Ah, Sylvia

What keeps me from ever--ever--fetching The Bell Jar down from the shelf of popular favorites? Partly, to be honest, the fact that so many women, and literary critics, adore it, and profess to've found beauty and truth in it.  Myself, I've never read a line of Sylvia Plath's poetry that I liked, admired or found beautiful.  Is it just me?  Or is it the undoubted fact that depressed women who kill themselves annoy the hell out of me.