I enjoyed reading this immensely and am delighted that I will always remember purchasing it from a pleasant old man at WEST SIDE BOOK SHOP in Ann Arbor. I think the biographer did very well painting a sympathetic and compassionate but ultimately distant, objective portrait of Sylvia Plath and her life. Death of the author blah blah but I'm glad we have her journals. Is it to narcissistic to say she reminds me of me in the tiniest way?