The Bell Jar

Like many a self-serious adolescent girl with literary pretensions, I went through a Sylvia Plath phase in high school. Her poems exuded an aspirational world weariness; she knew all and I knew nothing. The Bell Jar has all the acerbic qualities I remember, but what impressed me most was the headstrong youthfulness of the writing. At some point, I looked at the short bio of her printed on the back of the book and was bowled over to learn that she had died at age 30. At the time of reading, I was all of one year older and already felt like I had experienced multiple lifetimes.