Mrs. Dalloway by Virginia Woolf

Why is it that authors are revered when they create tragic personal lives for themselves? Or when they can write authoritatively about mental instability, depression and suicide? Is it brilliant to entertain these thoughts or just to share them with the world? Do we feel sorry for their emotional plight - is that the draw? Aren't there some stable authors out there who can merely entertain their imagination and then have the skill to capture it on paper? I don't see that being unstable warrants literary genius status. With all that out of the way. . .

I have seen Mrs. Dalloway on every reading list that I have ever looked up. I was so looking forward to reading it. There were a few redeeming moments that made it fall into the category of "not a complete waste of time" but for the most part I don't enjoy reading about someone so truly on the verge of a breakdown and then succumbing to it (not the character of Mrs. Dalloway by the way). Is it any wonder that the author committed suicide? She was lauded for her detailed and realistic characterization of insanity, depression and suicide. Was she brilliant or was she just disturbed?

This is a book about unrequited love, selfishness and self-awareness or a lack thereof, about growing older and about contradictions. One minute you can think the characters are getting on the right track and then they will fall lower than they had been before. I think we all think about suicide sometimes, and we all play with insanity from time to time in our lives - but I could not for the life of me see why this story has been made more than it actually was. Am I missing something?