Sometimes, you just know when you have found a truly great novelist, and Jeffrey Eugenides is one such novelist.

I initially rated this book four stars, but no, it deserves a five-star rating. And where have I been since 1999? On some desert island? How did I not possibly know of this wonderful gem of a book? Mr Eugenides has shot onto my favourite author list, and I've ordered Middlesex and The Marriage Plot from my bookseller.

This is a haunting, dreamlike, atmospheric, and raw novel. Told from the viewpoint of five men now in their thirties, they recount one year some twenty years earlier and the obsession they had with a family of girls; an obsession which haunts them even in their adult years. It begins with the suicide of the youngest girl, the precursor to the preoccupation the boys have with the Lisbon sisters. This is a tale of the atrophy of the Lisbon family, the gradual breakdown of their tenuous lives over the course of 13 months. And it's basically a neighbourhood story; Michigan in the 1970s, one street, one year, five girls, and the neighbouring boys.

The story is told interestingly in plural first-person narration by the boys. The sisters are a mystery to the boys then and still some twenty years later where the memory still haunts them. The girls actually remain a bit of a mystery to the reader partly because you never actually hear from their viewpoint. They appear wraith-like and mystical to both reader and narrators. Cecilia, Bonnie, Mary, Therese, and Lux have lived cloistered lives. Although they attend the same school as the boys, they keep to themselves, appear unusual and different from the other pupils. The boys have almost a reverent need to know; it seems driven by a pure want to be close to the girls. They start collecting what will be an extensive cache of what they term as exhibits including Cecilia's journal, a faded polaroid, Lux's bra, and Bonnie's votive candles. Insights other than the boys' own are recounted as the narrators later seek out various neighbours, other pupils, parents, and teachers. Although, as they discover, this knowledge will do little to uncover the riddle of the elusive Lisbon girls.

The book is light on dialogue and rich with description; delicious detail, detail, detail. Eugenides creates an ethereal, persistent, intriguing mood. It is surrealistic and lingers with you long after you have put the book down.

Novel read in the Telegram group “Book of cinema” of the Atreyu Literary Club.

I really liked the way it was told because that first person plural is different. Although I didn't empathize with the narrators, I think the author hit the mark completely with this very special and plural version of the witness narrator.

The first sentence is impactful and marks the way we will read the rest of the novel.

In “The Virgin Suicides” there are several hard moments, almost oppressive, along with others that are beautiful, almost poetic. Descriptions of the everyday, narrated under the halo of memories, unite the moments of one type and the other.

The focus is always on the Lisbon sisters. It approaches them and moves away like a zoom of a camera, but always maintains a certain distance. At certain moments I would have liked to know their thoughts firsthand, but without that inner journey, what was happening to them is also understandable.

“What we want is to live… if they let us.”

The fact that the book is called 'The Virgin Suicides' might lead one to expect a certain outcome. However, I was still managed to be shocked when the virgins committed suicide.

One would think that with such a title, the events would be somewhat foreseeable. But as I delved deeper into the story, I found myself completely unprepared for the actual moment of their suicides.

The author's ability to build up the tension and create a sense of mystery around the characters made their actions all the more impactful.

Even though I knew it was coming, the way it was presented in the book was truly unexpected. It made me realize that sometimes, even when we think we know what's going to happen, we can still be caught off guard.

The Virgin Suicides is a powerful and thought-provoking book that challenges our expectations and forces us to confront the harsh realities of life.

This novel is one of those that intoxicates you, one from which you can't tear yourself away despite the horrible things that happen on the pages. At times it was almost hypnotic.

Although I already knew everything that would happen in the book, thanks to the magnificent adaptation by Sofia Coppola that I saw in high school, I enjoyed every moment of the reading (and confirmed that one of my favorite movies is also an impeccable adaptation).

Jeffrey Eugenides and the particular narration he chose for this story transport us to the seventies, showing the decadence and putrefaction beneath the facades of the American suburbs, and the sick obsession of a group of adolescents with five sisters, always surrounded by tragedy, eroticism, and mysticism that in the minds of the boys borders on the mythological.

Now I want to read EVERYTHING that Eugenides has published. It's truly remarkable how Eugenides weaves this tale, making it a captivating exploration of a bygone era. The vivid descriptions and complex characters draw you in and keep you engaged until the very end. His writing style is both lyrical and powerful, adding an extra layer of depth to the story. I can't wait to discover more of his works and see what other literary gems he has in store for us.

Hello, and welcome to my review of the book that truly had everyone, both online and in my real life, expressing concern for me!

I've never received so many follow-up messages regarding a review as I did when I mentioned I was reading this one as a cry for help. It really made me understand why some people might fake personal crises just to gain attention.

The fact that the book was actually good was just an added bonus.

When I first read this book in 2016, about a week before my high school graduation (probably also as a cry for help), I didn't truly understand it. But I don't feel bad about that. Firstly, it's done in a fairly subtle way. Secondly, I was only 18 at the time. And thirdly, judging by the reviews of my fellow Goodreads users, a lot of you also didn't quite get it.

Sorry for calling you bozos earlier. I didn't really mean you.

Unless, of course, you're someone who read the entire book and somehow came away thinking that Eugenides wants you to believe in and support our collective male narrator. Then to you I would say: Read with a critical eye after Googling the terms "unreliable narrator" and perhaps "satire." Bozo.

If you enjoy hate-able narrators, interesting perspective choices, beautiful writing, and disturbing images that will stay with you for years, then this is the book for you.

(There is one particular image that has been burned into my mind ever since I first read it all those years ago. And I highly doubt it will ever have the mercy to leave me alone.)

I also think this book fits well with the current resurgence of sad girl reads. We definitely stan a book for being ahead of its time. However, if you're reading it for this reason, you should be aware that this isn't exactly the typical sad girls' story, and yet in a way, it is.

This is a book about what it feels like to be a teenage girl, as seen through the lens of a group of boys who don't understand, don't want to understand, and don't care. It's a book about all the crap that boys get away with and all the crap that girls have to go through, from the perspective of the boys who don't realize either of these things. It's told from the boys' perspective because the author is trusting you to see beyond it.

I have to wonder if all these negative reviews assume that Sofia Coppola made up the point of this book, just because she made it more obvious?

Bottom line: It's a classic!

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pre-review

Rereading as a cry for help

Update: It has come to my attention that, due to the title of this book, multiple people have perceived this review as a significantly more serious cry for help than I originally intended.

Please know that the cry for help in question is simply starting my week by reading devastating 20-year-old literary fiction. Also, and more importantly, note that the title would seem to imply that I'm calling myself a virgin, and I would never refer to myself as a virgin on the internet, as it's permanent.

Review to come / 4 stars

“La casa si ritraeva dietro una cortina nebbiosa di giovinezza soffocata, e persino i nostri genitori cominciarono a notare l'aspetto cupo e malsano del luogo.”

The house was hidden behind a hazy curtain of stifled youth, and even our parents began to notice the dark and unhealthy aspect of the place.

“La mattina che si uccise anche l'ultima figlia dei Lisbon (stavolta toccava a Mary: sonniferi, come Therese) i due infermieri del pronto soccorso entrarono in casa sapendo con esattezza dove si trovavano il cassetto dei coltelli, il forno a gas e la trave del seminterrato a cui si poteva annodare una corda. Scesero dall'ambulanza, con quella che come al solito ci sembrò una lentezza esasperante (…)”

The morning when the last Lisbon daughter also took her own life (this time it was Mary's turn: she was on sleeping pills, like Therese), the two emergency room nurses entered the house knowing exactly where the knife drawer, the gas oven, and the basement beam to which a rope could be tied were located. They got out of the ambulance, with what seemed to us, as always, an exasperating slowness (…).

Così comincia questa strana storia che riavvolge il nastro partendo dal suo epilogo.

Thus begins this strange story that rewinds the tape starting from its ending.

Come in uno di quei puzzle dove c’è sempre qualche pezzo mancante oppure che non combacia, allo stesso modo chi narra ricostruisce mettendo assieme voci e i ricordi perchè una cosa è sicura: questa storia non può essere narrata in modo univoco.

Like in one of those puzzles where there is always a missing piece or one that doesn't fit, in the same way, the narrator reconstructs by putting together voices and memories because one thing is certain: this story cannot be told in a single way.

Si procede, pertanto, con una prima persona plurale che testimonia la coralità di un gruppo maschile in adorazione verso le cinque sorelle Lisbon.

Therefore, it proceeds with a first-person plural that testifies to the unity of a male group in adoration towards the five Lisbon sisters.

Una storia che ricalca una tragedia greca.

A story that recalls a Greek tragedy.

Procede con descrizioni che mi hanno fortemente ricordato Zola nel minuzioso ricostruire.

It proceeds with descriptions that strongly reminded me of Zola in the meticulous reconstruction.

Mi sono, poi, imbattuta in una scena che ricalca il banchetto nuziale che Miss Havisham (“Grandi speranze” - Dickens) aveva lasciato intatto al giorno delle nozze in cui fu abbandonata. Una cosa ben fatta: come una cover che si appropria ridefinendo il tutto in modo personale.

Then, I came across a scene that recalls the wedding banquet that Miss Havisham (from "Great Expectations" by Dickens) had left intact on the day of her wedding when she was abandoned. A well-done thing: like a cover that appropriates and redefines everything in a personal way.

Volevo leggere “Middlesex” che m’interessava molto per la tematica. Ho incontrato “Le vergini suicide” e il giudizio è più che positivo.

I wanted to read "Middlesex" which I was very interested in because of the theme. I came across "The Virgin Suicides" and the judgment is more than positive.

Un canto che sa di antico quanto un inno sacro e di moderno quanto uno scatenato pezzo rock che acclama la ribellione adolescenziale.

A song that tastes of the ancient as much as a sacred hymn and of the modern as much as a wild rock piece that acclaims adolescent rebellion.

Magia, mito, esoterismo in una storia di morte che reclama la vita. Un degrado di un dramma annunciato.

Magic, myth, esotericism in a story of death that claims life. A degradation of an announced drama.

“Avvertivamo il senso di reclusione che comporta l'essere ragazze, con la testa che ribolle di idee e di sogni, per poi imparare le combinazioni di colori più adatte. Ci si rese conto della fraternità che ci univa; esistevamo tutti nello spazio come animali con la stessa pelle, e loro ci conoscevano benissimo, benché ai nostri occhi rappresentassero un mondo inesplorato. E infine comprendemmo che le ragazze erano proprio donne camuffate, che capivano l'amore e anche la morte, e che il nostro compito consisteva semplicemente nel creare il rumore che sembrava capace di affascinarle.”

We felt the sense of seclusion that being girls implies, with our heads boiling with ideas and dreams, only to then learn the most suitable color combinations. We realized the brotherhood that united us; we all existed in space like animals with the same skin, and they knew us very well, although in our eyes they represented an unexplored world. And finally, we understood that the girls were just disguised women, who understood love and also death, and that our task simply consisted in creating the noise that seemed capable of fascinating them.

“La signorina Perl era in buoni rapporti con un disk-jockey della zona e trascorse un'intera notte ascoltando i dischi preferiti di Lux, un elenco fornito dai suoi compagni di scuola. Quella \\"ricerca\\" le fruttò la scoperta di cui andava più fiera: una canzone dei Cruel Crux intitolata La vergine suicida. Trascriviamo qui il ritornello, anche se né la signorina Perl né noi siamo stati in grado di stabilire se l'album era fra quelli bruciati da Lux per ordine di sua madre:

Miss Perl had a good relationship with a local disk-jockey and spent an entire night listening to Lux's favorite records, a list provided by her schoolmates. That "research" bore the fruit of the discovery she was most proud of: a song by the Cruel Crux titled "The Virgin Suicides". We transcribe the refrain here, even though neither Miss Perl nor we were able to determine if the album was among those burned by Lux on her mother's orders:

“Vergine suicida lei grida qualcosa a chi servirà questa corsa all'olocausto? Mi ha dato la sua verginità è la mia vergine suicida.”

"Virgin suicides, she shouts something to whom will this race to the Holocaust serve? She has given me her virginity, she is my virgin suicides."

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RUTh4...

This is the book that truly inspired me. It was so bad that it made me decide to create a special shelf just for those books that I firmly believe deserve to have tomatoes thrown at them.

From the moment I started reading this particular book, I knew something was amiss. The plot was convoluted and made no sense, the characters were one-dimensional and unlikable, and the writing style was dull and unengaging.

As I continued to plow through the pages, hoping for some glimmer of redemption, I was met with more disappointment. It seemed as if the author had no idea what they were doing or what would appeal to readers.

In my opinion, this book hands down deserves the most tomatoes. It is a prime example of what not to do when writing a book, and I would not recommend it to anyone.

I can only hope that by creating this special shelf, I can warn others away from making the same mistake of reading this abysmal book.

  
    All wisdom ends in paradox.
  

This book entered my life at an opportune moment. For that reason, it will always be a memorable bookmark in the chaos. The story revolves around the eponymous virgins, the five Lisbon sisters, who become entangled in the mire of adolescence and the wretchedness of puberty. A stage of life marked by the growing realization of the meaninglessness of existence. Typically, this is the ideal time to introduce a teenager to Linkin Park or Taylor Swift. There is no in-between. (Before Taytay, there was Kelly Clarkson).

What truly stood out for me was the prose. To be honest, I couldn't tell you precisely what this book is about. Is it a snapshot of life in this sleepy town? Or is it about the symbolic ephemera of girlhood? Perhaps it's an allegory of the current way of life.
  

The Lisbon girls became a symbol of what was wrong with the country, the pain it inflicted on even its most innocent citizens...

The book takes its time in revealing itself to you. It even has a remarkable self-awareness. When the young girls die and their parents decide to put the house on the market, it has to be gutted to make it suitable for sale. But even then, it didn't disclose more to our narrators than what we had already been told.
  

...we learned little more about the girls than we knew already. It felt as though the house could keep disgorging debris forever, a tidal wave of unmatched slippers and dresses scarecrowed on hangers, and after sifting through it all we would still know nothing.

Don't lose sight of the forest for the trees. Although the meaning of the book is unique to each reader, the wordplay is simply... amazing. arrived every morning with the hopeless expression of a man draining a swamp with a kitchen sponge. Paul Baldino still commanded our fear and respect. His rhino’s hips had gotten even larger and the circles under his eyes had deepened to a cigar-ash-and-mud color that made him look acquainted with death. Most of our parents attended the funeral, leaving us home to protect us from the contamination of tragedy.

The book is very casual in its use of poetic observation as a weapon, as if seducing readers into embracing suicide. But that's not the case. It's not a Trojan horse for some discussion about suicide or the inevitability of death. It doesn't give us an opportunity to engage in a soapbox debate about suicide. There are plenty of those already. The suicides just... are. The narrators do attempt to discover why all five sisters would decide to die and in such different ways. But they're the only ones who accept it as an endnote to the short lives of the Lisbon sisters. Neither tragic nor emblematic of anything. It just is. It's almost refreshing to read a book that isn't trying to slyly get you to see one side or the other. The boys even realize the futility of trying to fit the girls into neat little pathologizable boxes.
  

the Lisbons’ sadness was beyond comprehension

In the end, we had pieces of the puzzle, but no matter how we put them together, gaps remained, oddly shaped emptinesses mapped by what surrounded them, like countries we couldn’t name.

I continued reading, not because I was desperate to find out why five young girls who seemed normal, healthy, with a functional father and a high-strung mother, parents typical of suburbia, would choose such a way to end things, but because the language kept pulling me along.

This book could have turned into Eugenides' checkout receipt from CVS and I'd still have kept reading it. There were times when I wondered if it was trying to tell me to stop worrying so much.
  

“Shit,” he said, “what have kids got to be worried about now? If they want trouble, they should go live in Bangladesh.”

But no one country has a monopoly on troubled suffering or the contemplation of misfortune. Even the self-important citizens of the world's wealthiest third world country can attest to that. Or perhaps, suicide is inevitable for some people, like psychosis, some are simply genetically or environmentally predisposed to die this way.
  

“With most people,” he said, “suicide is like Russian roulette. Only one chamber has a bullet. With the Lisbon girls, the gun was loaded. A bullet for family abuse. A bullet for genetic predisposition. A bullet for historical malaise. A bullet for inevitable momentum. The other two bullets are impossible to name, but that doesn’t mean the chambers were empty.”

Then again, the book does ask if suicide is a selfish means of escape. As someone with suicidal ideation, at no point was I triggered or questioning why this happens to me. It seemed to demystify something that is painfully human and normal, as if pointing out the futility of pessimism or the indignity of optimism. Maybe it's just enough to be.

Only the Lisbon girls will ever fully understand why they chose their destiny. A fateful punctuation in the otherwise mindless lives of these people. When Mary, the final daughter, takes her life, the boys were attending a debutante's ball. The dichotomy of such spectral stages of life made it easier to digest the deaths of these teenagers. Not because they should be consumable, but because, ultimately, to be human is to die. I don't know what I'm saying. Perhaps this is the best pointless book I've ever read.

I had to take some time after reading this and do some deep thinking before I could review. It is such an unusual story - good, but dark and full of nooks and crannies for skeletons and other vermin to hide. It is hard to say I enjoyed a story like this - that would be like saying I enjoyed a car wreck; intriguing, but lots of people and property were damaged in the process.

One main thing I can say is I don't think I have seen the main story take as much of a back seat to the setting, the symbolism, and the side characters. The book is "The Virgin Suicides", but they might be the least important, as well as the most important, part of the book. Are you confused yet?

Setting: The neighborhood, the houses, the tree house, the school. The description of buildings is detailed and vivid. The importance of a location is emphasized. Certain windows serve as stages into the performance of people's lives. All of this is very complex and interesting, adding depth and atmosphere to the story.

Coated in muck: Throughout the book, things are covered in dust, slime, dead bugs, etc. Everything is made to seem like it is coated, and a deeper truth is underneath. And, I think it is important that the "coating" is never pretty. It is always foul, stinking, decaying, etc., creating a sense of unease and mystery.

Symbolism - As the story deteriorates, so do the structures and the people. Buildings decay, representing the breakdown of society and the human spirit. People become more and more unstable, mirroring the crumbling world around them. Every element spirals into a gloomy miasma and it moves towards the ultimate sad climax.

The boys - the boys in the story serving as narrators really kept making me think of Stand By Me or The Sandlot. They are coming of age, looking into other people's lives, and trying to figure things out while wrapped in the innocence of youth. Their perspective adds a layer of naivete and curiosity to the story, making it even more engaging.

I think that many will enjoy this book. Just remember that it is dark and somewhat disturbing. It is not something to read while looking for a pick me up. However, if you are in the mood for a thought-provoking and atmospheric read, "The Virgin Suicides" is definitely worth checking out.

There is so much to unpack about this book.

The fact that the book is written from the boys' point of view was truly infuriating. At times, they were gross and creepy, and it was annoying how little they actually cared about the girls. They were only infatuated with their looks and the "mystery" surrounding them.

However, the fact that Eugenides made the narrator unlikeable, yet the book likeable, is still astonishing to me. Additionally, it was extremely heartbreaking how all of the girls were clearly crying out for help, yet they continued to be disregarded and treated like objects by everyone around them.

This is the kind of book where I can't even begin to describe all of the thoughts I have about it. But I do know that it will stay with me. It makes me think about the importance of truly seeing and hearing others, and not just being superficially attracted to them. It also makes me reflect on how society often fails to notice and address the cries for help from those who are suffering. Overall, this book is a powerful and thought-provoking read that I will not soon forget.

I simply couldn't put this book down.

It isn't overly long, and for years, I had intended to read it after hearing such wonderful things about it.

This week, during a couple of flights, I managed to get through it.

It is utterly captivating. Eugenides's use of the choral narrative voice is truly unique, unlike anything I've ever read before. The descriptions are dreamy and compelling, drawing the reader in and keeping them hooked.

While it does have its moments of melodrama, these are balanced out by the completely mundane aspects of the characters' lives.

I feel as if I need to read it again to pick up on all the elements that I may have overlooked or not fully appreciated the first time around.

I can most definitely envision myself reading this one again, and I'm so glad that I finally got around to it.

It's a book that leaves a lasting impression and makes you want to explore it further.

I simply didn't get this book.

I was so desperate to find hidden meaning within its pages, but alas, there was nothing.

Why on earth would one waste so much precious paper and ink on something that is so overtly pretentious and yet utterly devoid of any real meaning?

The story of a group of oppressed sisters who kill themselves after flirting with the neighborhood boys is truly a tragic one.

It is even more horrible to think that this occurred in the middle of suburban America, where the white picket fences are supposed to shield such neighborhoods from the specter of tragic teenage death.

In the end, all that I managed to glean from this book was the fact that the girls were rather peculiar (and, by the way, at least one of them was not a virgin when she committed suicide), the boys were immature, and the girls' parents were borderline psychotic.

Okay, sure, I understand that there may have been underlying metaphors and themes about the hypocrisy of middle America and oppressive religion, among other things.

However, I must admit that I was not at all impressed.

I later saw Sofia Coppola's film adaptation of the book, but unfortunately, it did not enhance my understanding or appreciation of either the book or the film.

I had previously read Middlesex by Eugenides and had thought him to be a genius.

Alas, this book has proved that he is only an occasional genius.

What a sadness it is.