Eh, this book was just okay. It has not aged well. I'm sure, at the time when it first came out it seemed so daring, so revolutionary. Some of the ideas the character Esther had about motherhood and marriage and careers were not so common, or at least not the mainstream feelings, so it probably was kind of shocking and titilating reading back in the early 60's. It was gusty of Sylvia Plath to write about things like this and depression and mental illness back then. So I'll give her kudos for that.

But books about someone suffering from depression are so boring. Depressed people are so incredibly self-absorbed and boring. I don't understand depression because I don't suffer from depression so I have problems " getting it". The character, Esther was hard to empathize with; she treated everyone like shit. She was self absorbed but at the same time clueless as to what she was feeling, what she wanted. Just yuck.