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.