I like to read – probably not as much as a lot of other people, but I do enjoy it. I am always surprised when a book affects me in a profound way - because it does not happen to me all that frequently. This is likely due to the fact that I use reading as an escape rather than a reality check.
I just finished reading The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. If ever I identified with a book and a story line, it was that one. It wasn’t so much the plot itself but the emotional down fall and the realization that you don’t really want to be who society and your parents have prepared you to be. The main character, Esther, finds herself slowly dissolving from society’s expectations of her and floundering to find her own definition of self.
All in all, I came away from The Bell Jar being glad that I read it because of it’s place in literature, but being depressed by it because the story reminded too much of my own struggles.