Virgin suicides

I half expected what I got, and a large part of me didn't know what to expect. The Virgin Suicides doesn't explain the thoughts and motives of the main characters explicitly, but relies instead on a collective first person limited point of view. While I found this a bit disconcerting, it was truly a clever approach, given the subject matter. Written from the perspective of the boys living on the same street as the "virgins," who I think I will simply refer to as the protagonists, this book does not so much discuss as speculate on and give disconnected evidence of perhaps a chemical imbalance, perhaps a disorder. This is not like a cold or a headache, experienced by everyone, which is why I think the point of view used is so fitting. Those who have not experienced such feelings can only look on and speculate, trying to fit together pieces. I feel as though I need to read this a second time to try to absorb more of the symbolism and resonant truths that I can feel are there and got inklings of, but the story was so coated in this almost sticky-hot disconnect between the analyzation and the real emotions that had to have been occurring that it felt like a really muggy day and it made it incredibly difficult to focus on the profundities. This fog makes it hard to write a review as well, because I feel like I missed something important in expressing my reaction to this book.

The town of Grosse Pointe, Michigan are fascinated by the death of 13-year-old Cecilia Lisbon and then eventually her four older sisters. All five suicides have been the subject of much confusion as everyone tries to piece together an explanation for these acts. The girls seemed so normal and twenty years later their enigmatic personalities are still the subject of much speculation as the boys recall their adolescence and infatuations with the Lisbon girls.

The Virgin Suicides is told by an anonymous narrator in the first person plural as he and a group of men recall their obsession over the Lisbon girls. This is an interesting way of showing the story because you never really find out their motivations and all you can really do is speculate based on the evidence these boys have collected. At times I think the girls suffered from depression, being in an overly protective home and being avoided at school. While their parents were overly protective, there is never really any signs of abuse and they are just trying to raise the girls up in a way they thing is right. Then at school it never seems like the girls have any friends and just stick together; there is no indication that any of the other girls in school talked to them and all the boys seemed too obsessed with them that they never really socialise with the girls either. Does this mean they suffer from depression? I don’t know but being treated like a prisoner at home and a leper at school would be difficult.

Cecilia (13), Lux (14), Bonnie (15), Mary (16), and Therese (17) all have their own personalities and this never comes through in this book. The idea of the boys worshipping them all without really knowing how to tell them apart is an interesting concept. High School infatuation really doesn’t give way to really understanding the girls and that was one of the major problems the girls had. As they reflect on what happened they refer to themselves as the “custodians of the girls’ lives” but none of them really took anytime to truly know them when they were alive; they just piece together based on their memories and the evidence they took from their house. To me this is the key to this whole book; they can never really know what the girls felt because they were too scared to find out and the parents kept them on a tight leash.

I love this book, it’s deliciously bleak and Jeffrey Eugenides is just a wonderful writer. I’m surprised how well thought out and polished this is for a debut novel; it outshines a lot of other books. Eugenides is fast becoming a favourite of mine; I adored The Marriage Plot and now only have his most talked about novel, Middlesex to read. I love the combination of darkness and elegance in this book, mix that with this thought provoking concept you really do get a sense of why Eugenides is such a great author.

While the subject matter of suicide is difficult to approach, I think Jeffrey Eugenides did a masterful job at showing just how devastating it is for everyone around. He adds that intrigue that never quite goes away and then he also questions the town’s people and even the reader into what we can do to recognise this pain and maybe help prevent it. No matter how many clues you search for in this book, can you really know the true motivation behind the girl’s suicides? This is what makes this book so great; it doesn’t give you the full answer but leaves you with some many options. I think this is the point, there normally isn’t one clear answer to why someone would take their own lives; it is collection of little things the build up until they can’t take it anymore.

I’ve not seen the movie adaptation of this book and quite frankly I’m a little scared. I don’t know how it would work as a film. I know it could probably convey the heartbreaking concept of this book but the beauty of this book would be almost impossible to translate onto the screen.

It is a weird concept to think of a book about suicide as beautiful or gorgeous but I can’t think of any other way to describe it. Sure the subject matter is dark (which I love anyway) but the way Jeffrey Eugenides approaches it is first class. There is no finger pointing and no reason to play the blame game, it focuses solely on the Lisbon Girls and just how much the town didn’t know about them. A haunting read but never really going too dark, the balance between tragedy and understanding is just perfect.

This review originally appeared on my blog; literary-exploration.com/2013/04/09/book-review-the-virgin-suicides/

This novel was certainly engrossing. I saw the movie a long time ago, and agree with beckerbuns that I'd like to see it again, now. Eugenides is a fantastic writer, and this story certainly succeeded in being haunting and surreal. I admired the elm tree metaphor; this sad family was diseased and dying. The way the entire neighborhood quietly knew this, and kept their distance, added to the surreal nature of the plot--surely, in real life, four girls absent from school for such a long period of time (among other things) would result in some sort of intervention. Or, I like to think so...I liked the narration, by a handful of sensitive boys who struggled to understand the unknowable, because it rang true to me--try as they might to scope out what was going on in that house, they never penetrated the nature of the despair and isolation, and they were forever affected by it. Which, I suppose, circles 'round again to the elm tree metaphor.