It was a queer, sultry summer, the summer they electrocuted the Rosenbergs, and I didn't know what I was doing in New York. I'm stupid about executions. The idea of being electrocuted makes me sick, and that's all there was to read about in the papers-goggle-eyed headlines staring up at me on every street corner and at the fusty, peanut-smelling mouth of every subway. It had nothing to do with me, but I couldn't help wondering what it would be like, being burned alive all along your nerves. I thought it must be the worst thing in the world.And indeed, it will be the worse thing in the world. After her first disastrous shock session, she wonders "what terrible thing it was that I had done." With electro-shock therapy, Esther's first attempt to escape her dark abyss is as hellish as is her tumble in.
As a bright, unmarried woman of the 1950's, Esther is a) expected to be a virgin; b) destined for a marriage where husband is first, wife second; c) if destined for a career at all, destined for one as secretary; d) all of the above. These pressures, and others, overwhelm Esther. At college, she feels the stigma of being a "scholarship girl." She is angry at an ex-boyfriend whom she unmasks as a virgin imposter. Culture sanctions his sexual experience, whereas it would damn Esther's were she to have any. She is angry at her mother for insisting that Esther learn shorthand, for that secretarial career Esther disdains. These personal resentments are also cultural ones.
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