My brain hurts.

I found this story and the way it was told to be extremely annoying. By the time I reached the last page, my head was spinning and it felt as if smoke was coming out of my ears.

To be honest, I'm not even sure if I understood everything I read. Who were the characters here? Were they the characters or the narrator(s)? Or both? What role did they play in each other's lives? What do I really know about them if all I have is what I've been told? But wait a minute. A story is a story because it's always told from someone's perspective. It's always someone's point of view. So why did this one feel so different? Didn't I trust the narrator the way I usually do? And if not, why? Thinking about it, I realize I didn't trust him (the narrator) from the very first sentence, but I have no idea why. Freak(s)!

Not even I was that bad as a teenager.

"We didn't know what to do next. We had no instructions."

Now let's talk about the Virgins. Those bloody Virgins. They've been on my mind constantly lately. Who were they? Why were they the way they were? Were they actually virgins? Can I be certain? I didn't trust them either, so... And besides, when Lux killed herself, she was no longer a virgin. Or was that part about screwing on the roof just another bunch of lies from whoever's friends and neighbours.

Who knows?

God, those Virgins. They took forever to die. I was so tired of all the anticipation. They've really driven me crazy, those Virgins. And Mary being the last one to die. God. Why Mary? Why?

Insane...

If I wasn't giving this five stars, it would have been 1 star. So five stars it will be, and I'm going to create a shelf for books that I loved only because I hated them so much. I can put this book right there next to Annie Proulx's 'The Shipping News'.

And I think I'll name this future new shelf something like 'Fantastically boring and irritating but brilliantly written!'. Isn't that a catchy name?

Morbidly engrossing.

From the very first page, you are made aware that all five Lisbon sisters are going to take their own lives, and astonishingly, you even know the specific methods each of them will employ.

However, this knowledge does not in the slightest deter you from reading right to the very end.

Your curiosity compels you to try and fathom the five doomed, yet utterly fascinating sisters who serve as the protagonists (if such a term can truly be applied to them) of this incredibly depressing, yet at the same time, wonderful novel.

The story weaves a web of mystery and tragedy around these sisters, drawing you in deeper with each passing page.

You find yourself unable to look away, desperate to understand the complex emotions and circumstances that led them to this fateful decision.

It is a journey into the dark recesses of the human psyche, a exploration of the fragility of life and the power of despair.

Despite the bleakness of the subject matter, the novel is written with such skill and beauty that it leaves an indelible mark on your soul.

To be frank, the synopsis of this book gave me the impression that it would be a literary fiction title within the thriller sub-category. That's precisely why I initially picked up the book from the lending library. However, unfortunately, the book failed to live up to its synopsis.

The book is, in fact, a hard-core literary fiction novel in the experimental literary fiction sub-category, a genre that I don't usually appreciate. Consequently, my review of this novel will be somewhat biased.

The book is filled with symbolism, auditory and visual imagery, puns, tragic and dramatic ironies, and more, making it a highly lyrical piece of literary fiction and almost like a work of art from a modernist perspective. I would compare its style to the fiction of William Faulkner, Virginia Woolf, Kate Chopin, and Katherine Mansfield. The literary style, narration, and major themes in this novel place it in the category of realistic young adult or coming-of-age literature. However, the issue is that since the theme is too rich, serious, and erudite for young adults and incorporates elements of early modernist themes, I had to classify this book as experimental literary fiction.

The way it handles suppressed emotions and sexual desires is similar to how Mansfield and Chopin typically approach such topics in their fiction. But unlike the feminist classic writers, Eugenides' narration and descriptions seem forced. It's more of a "tell" rather than a "show," which is somewhat gaudy in the novel. This is especially true regarding the way the character Lux has sex with her many lovers on the roof of her home in the open for all to see. It seems oddly placed in the narrative, and although it reveals a lot about their suppressed emotions, it does come across as something stretched. Paul Auster and Jhumpa Lahiri handle such narratives better.

Personally, I felt that the book was too full of symbology to be a comfortable read. Most of the symbology would be difficult for a non-literary student to decipher, making the book not the best choice to take to bed after a long day at the office. The major and sub-themes are all too serious for a light read, but the descriptions are rich and evocative, similar to those of South-East Asian writers like Arundhati Roy, Jhumpa Lahiri, Kamala Markandaya (with more detailed descriptions than her usual style), and a bit of Chitra Banerjee Divakaruni. The descriptions of the many "items" taken from the Lisbon home by the teenage boys who observed or stalked the Lisbon girls are some of the most colorful parts of the text.

However, aside from all that, the book was a melancholic read, albeit not a slow one. The melancholic style can be compared to that of Rohinton Mistry, and the fast-paced portion of the text to something Divakaruni would do to take her vivid descriptions to another level. But at the end of a long and tiring day, having to decipher all these symbols and allegories is tiresome, making one feel as if they were reading a Tagore title. This was especially the case when the author would suddenly launch into long narrations in the form of extremely long paragraphs about the secludedness of the Lisbon girls and their "decaying" as prisoners in their home under the tyranny of their conservative mother. That was really heavy and melancholic reading, and it would put me to sleep anywhere and at any time, despite all the caffeine in my system.

Another point I'd like to make here is that I was expecting some suicides to occur at regular intervals in the novel. I got that impression from the synopsis, but as it turned out, that wasn't the case. However, it wasn't a misinterpretation on my part because that's indeed what the synopsis seemed to imply. After the first girl committed suicide, there was a long gap until the next four happened all together at the same time and on the same day, which was a real letdown. I'm not being a depraved sadist; I'm just being honest about my feelings that I was promised many suicides and should have gotten a couple at regular intervals! I think it's unfair to readers to be misled by eye-catching synopses that promise more than they deliver. Eugenides may be a great literary fiction writer, but his dark and somber title wasn't for me and definitely shouldn't have had that synopsis.

I didn't like any of the characters in this book; they weren't appealing at all. However, I did like the scene where four of the girls went on their first dance together with their dates. That was a charming and hilarious part to read and enjoy. But after that scene, as I mentioned before, symbolism took over again, along with a lot of imagery. I remember reading that part of the text at the doctor's and getting so engrossed that I lost track of time and wasn't called by the doctor!

I could go on, but I'll end by saying that for a literature class, this was a great book. Otherwise, for entertainment purposes, it's a tedious read.

This book gets 3 stars from me.

Este libro es una obra maestra. Punto.

‘Las vírgenes suicidas’ de Jeffrey Eugenides se ha convertido en uno de mis libros favoritos. Durante la lectura, estaba absolutamente obsesionada. No podía pensar en otra cosa. ¿Tantas ganas tenía de conocer el final? No, no era eso. Conoces el desenlace desde la primera página. En un corto periodo de tiempo, las cinco hermanas Lisbon, de entre 13 y 17 años, se suicidan.

Por otra parte, el final de la novela no supuso para mí el fin de la lectura. Durante semanas (sé que suena exagerado, pero es así), he continuado volviendo al libro, a releer fragmentos. E incluso, al revisitar la primera página, me llevé una gran sorpresa. Ese conocimiento del trágico desenlace hace que lo esperes constantemente, creando una fuerte sensación de tensión, pero también de horrible morbo.

Este libro es un ejercicio literario extraordinario. Es como si en todo momento el autor supiera qué estás pensando y cómo manejar la narración para involucrar, sorprender y dejar marcado para siempre al lector. Hay una suerte de magia en la forma de contar de esta historia. Pese a que sepas lo que va a pasar (¡con detalles!), de alguna forma te olvidas, miras hacia otro lado, tienes esperanza… y cuando vuelves atrás a revisar lo leído, te llevas las manos a la cabeza para decir “si estaba ahí todo el tiempo”. Algo así como entrar a un laberinto guiado, donde te perderás mil veces antes de encontrar la salida.

Si el punto de partida te ha hecho imaginar que se trata de una novela negra, quítatelo de la cabeza, pero ya. ‘Las vírgenes suicidas’ es un libro de crítica social, a ratos disfrazada, a ratos directa y cruel. Una novela llena de simbolismo, de capas y capas, de “easter eggs”, de detalles abiertos a mil y una interpretaciones. Un libro que merece la pena leer sin prisa, trabajando en sumergirse en cada frase, porque os prometo, no hay puntada sin hilo. Eso sí, que esto no os lleve a engaño, es un libro muy fácil de leer. No esperéis una prosa compleja. La profundidad de la novela está en su contenido.

¿Una genialidad? El libro está narrando desde el punto de vista de uno de los adolescentes del barrio de las hermanas Lisbon. Un grupo de jóvenes que las observaba como un conjunto, no personas distintas, con un aura casi de divinidad inalcanzable. Que las miraban desde lejos y que quedaron de alguna forma afectados por los suicidios. Ese narrador habla como portavoz del grupo de amigos, pero a veces también refleja el sentir de todas las gentes del barrio (un barrio cualquiera de un pueblo cualquiera en Estados Unidos en los 70’s), creando constantemente una clara separación entre el nosotros y el “otro”: la familia Lisbon. Así, aunque el propio narrador cree que habla de las Lisbon y de su desaparición, en realidad, por el contrario, puedes ver que habla de su sociedad. Es decir, de cómo un grupo (llamado vecindad, llámalo sociedad en general) ve lo diferente, cómo marca las distancias, cómo se fascina con morbo y cómo aísla. También, cómo al final, como sociedad, cuando el daño está hecho (sea el que sea) nos arrepentimos.

Es fundamental no perder de vista que conocemos así, un punto de vista sesgado de lo que ocurrió en casa de los Lisbon. Solo una mirada ajena, preocupada, curiosa pero pasiva. Que da una información y unos juicios que surgen de la investigación y los recuerdos de aquel momento. Y es que la narración se mueve entre el año de las muertes y décadas después, donde aún, los amigos, tratan de entender el por qué. Desde luego, a través de estos ojos, el autor consigue que tu sientas la misma fascinación por las Lisbon que los personajes, que des todo de ti para comprenderlas, que extiendas tu mano para tocarlas. Con las páginas comprendes que nunca llegas a conocer a las hermanas, solo la proyección de los adolescentes con hormonas efervescentes tienen de ellas. Aun así, las pocas veces que podemos oir su voz, leer sus palabras, escuchar su música… nos acerca a ellas, a su sentir, a su agonía, a su búsqueda de la libertad.

Al mismo tiempo que, insisto con mirada atenta y abierta, puedes entender el porqué del suicidio de las hermanas Lisbon (¡y creo que hay posibilidades de que lleguemos a conclusiones diferentes!), lo que es aún más interesante es la autopsia a una sociedad podrida (ojo a la importancia de los olores en toda la novela), porque la muerte de las adolescentes no es la única que se trata en la novela.

Para mí una obra maestra de la literatura, un libro que será clásico. Un libro que hay que trabajar para entender a todos sus niveles y que merece muchas lecturas.

Wow, you knew that this guy was the real deal after all.

His works have a certain charm that keeps readers hooked.

I see this as a perfect segue to his masterpiece "Middlesex". It's simple, yet so profound. It's sad, but in a way that makes you think. It is capital I Intriguing.

The first novel always announces the author's intentions for those that come next. Eugenides has a penchant for exploring the themes of adolescence in all its tragic shortcomings.

The Lisbon girls in the story are like monoliths to the nameless suitors. These suitors do nothing else but speculate about the girls and become passionate voyeurs. They don't lift a finger to save the girls; they just observe and obsess.

I guess while the girls become emblematic of sexual repression, the foolish boys become symbols of generic apathy and cowardice.

It's not just a story; it's a symbol of the times. It's a vivid portrait of true suburban un-happiness, showing the hidden emotions and struggles of the people living there.

Suicide is indeed not the most cheerful of topics, and the suicides of five sisters are even more disturbing. How can one recommend a book on such a grim subject? It's simple: just read it.

What Eugenides does exceptionally well is capture the enigma of secluded sisters as seen through the eyes of neighborhood boys. This is crucial in reading the novel. It's not necessarily the Lisbon sisters' story but rather the boys' story and how the suicides affected them all the way into adulthood (the boys are now men and they retell their story). They have never fully recovered from the events of that year, as demonstrated by the carefully catalogued and numbered evidence they've amassed over the years (faded photographs, scraps of paper, newspaper clippings, etc). It's as if their growth and development from boys to men has been permanently stunted, and it's a tragedy to read. Eugenides' use of a vague narrator allows the reader to actively engage in the mystery and confusion as the boys attempt to come to terms with the deaths. The narrator(s) always refer to themselves as "we" and never "I", drawing the reader in with them. We don't know who is speaking. It could be any of 10 - 12 boys. It's a particularly effective way of enabling the reader to experience the same range of emotions as the boys. By the end of the book, I was just as affected as the boys were and are.

Beyond the topic of suicide, there is also some very perceptive social commentary on how death (particularly suicides) impacts not only specific individuals but communities as well. The narrator(s), for example, notice how all the leaves remained unraked during the fall after the first four sisters took their lives. There's also mention of a day of mourning and an assembly at school, and one boy comments on how he felt like they were supposed to feel badly for everything that ever happened... ever. How do adults explain suicide to children? Eugenides skillfully delves into what it's like to try to grapple with and understand something completely beyond comprehension. How do we process suicide and death? Can we? Should we? I don't think it's unreasonable to draw comparisons to 'Hamlet' or other literature where 'ghosts' play a prominent role. For all practical purposes, these men are still boys under the spell of five ghosts. It's a thought-provoking novel that lingers with the reader long after closing its pages, just as the Lisbon sisters still haunt the memories of the neighborhood boys.

Perhaps the most remarkable aspect of the novel is the prose itself. Mr. Eugenides is a talented writer. My copy of the book is almost worn out from all the markings I've made. There are passages that made me leap off my bed and shout at the sky. His prose is as shiny as a newly minted coin. It's as if every word was meticulously chosen and every sentence carefully constructed (and I imagine they were). The novel reminds the reader of the power of the printed word. I don't know how much Eugenides sacrificed for his soul (for surely there was some sort of bargain with the devil), but I hope it was a substantial amount.

Unfortunately, quality literature seems to be scarce these days. However, I think it's safe to say that after two books, Jeffrey Eugenides has joined a gradually dwindling group of truly great, living, American authors (Roth, DeLillo, Morrison, Updike, among a few others) and is well on his way to a distinguished, prolific, literary career.

This is one of the few books I've read more than once. Each time I read it, I hope to gain some understanding of the 'why' of suicide, yet knowing it will never be so. So I'll just keep reading it over and over and try to understand, just as the boys continue to gather, go over the evidence, seek closure, and attempt to become men.

Sí, tengo varias cosas que decir al respecto. En primer lugar, la presentación no fue lo que esperaba. Era demasiado confusa y no lograba transmitir claramente la información. Además, el contenido en sí no era muy interesante. Me pareció demasiado repetitivo y no ofrecía nada nuevo o sorprendente.

Además, la atención al cliente también dejó mucho que desear. Cuando tuve una pregunta, no recibí una respuesta rápida o satisfactoria. Esto me hizo sentir que no me importaban lo que pensaba o lo que necesitaba.

En general, pues no me gustó. Creo que hay muchas cosas que se pueden mejorar en este producto o servicio. Espero que en el futuro, puedan hacer los cambios necesarios para ofrecer una experiencia más satisfactoria a los clientes.

The Reading Rush day 2: Read a book and watch the adaptation.

★★ /5

Sadly, this particular activity wasn't to my taste. It's not that the book was objectively bad. In fact, the story had its merits and I could clearly see the author's intentions. However, for some reason, I just couldn't bring myself to care about what happened to the characters. Their plights and experiences failed to engage my emotions or spark my interest.

As a result, I don't have a great deal to say about this book. It simply wasn't something that I found enjoyable or captivating. Maybe it was the writing style, or perhaps the subject matter wasn't something that I could relate to. Whatever the reason, it just didn't click with me.

Nevertheless, I still completed the task of reading the book and watching the adaptation. It was an interesting exercise, but unfortunately, it didn't leave a lasting impression on me.

The Virgin Suicides had been on my to-read list for quite some time. The sole reason was that I recalled it being a "hot topic" for a while, which piqued my curiosity. I had no clue what to anticipate. Now that I have completed reading it, I am at a loss for words. I did enjoy the book, but I struggle to put my feelings into words. There were many aspects that I found interesting in a rather quirky manner.

Firstly, it is written in the first person, yet instead of using "I", the author opted for "we", which was fascinating but without an obvious explanation.

Secondly, "we" would describe something in a way that the reader would most likely consider ordinary, yet "we" would refer to it as remarkable. For instance, a description of a female might bring to mind an unattractive young woman, but "we" would find the lady beautiful and captivating.

Although I cannot claim to have truly discovered a central point or even an "a-ha" moment, I still did enjoy the book. It had a certain charm and allure that kept me engaged from start to finish.

Once, when I was 13, my father came home early from work and asked to see my yearbook. It was the last day of junior high. I remember leaning against the kitchen counter, nervously cracking my knuckles. I watched as he slowly turned the glossy pages, carefully reading all of the comments written by my friends.

He remained silent throughout the reading. But when he finished, he handed me back my yearbook and said, “I loved being a teenager, but I wouldn't be one now for anything in the world.”

I thought I was going to receive a lecture that evening, but I didn't. To this day, I still wonder what suddenly sparked his interest in my social life and my friends. Had he read an article about the rise of teen suicide?

My father was a teenager in the late 1950s, while his kids became teenagers in the 1980s. I can only imagine that it was a very different experience for him.

He was born 20 years before the author of this book, Jeffrey Eugenides. Both of them grew up in the U.S., in the Midwest, and both had childhoods heavily influenced by the auto industry.

They also witnessed many changes in the U.S., especially the confusing shifts in the lives of American adolescents.

I truly wish, wish, WISH that my father had discovered Mr. Eugenides and this UNBELIEVABLE, FANTASTIC, INCREDIBLY ORIGINAL debut novel before he passed away. He would have been shaking his head in stunned disbelief.

Dad never knew Mr. Eugenides, but I do. And his Pulitzer-Prize winning Middlesex completely blew me away. He's an amazing writer who seems to capture the decline of American society without judgment, rant, or sociological nudge.

He's a storyteller who tells his tales, these deceptively simple stories that make you stop whatever you're doing, curl your toes, bite your nails, giggle into your hands, or shout. “HOW IS THIS YOUR DEBUT?! HOW IS THIS YOUR DEBUT, MR. EUGENIDES??!! NO, SERIOUSLY, HOW IS THIS YOUR DEBUT?”

And then he makes you cover your eyes with a cold compress and weep quietly into your pillow. “I don't hate you, Mr. Eugenides. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I don't hate you, Jeffrey. In fact, I love you. Oh, I love you, Jeffrey. Oh, Jeffrey, I love you.” as your family looks on in horror.

People, I could write countless essays about this book. I could post quote after quote of brilliant prose here. But all I really want to do is tell you that after I finished it this evening, I could only curl up in a tight ball of jealousy and awe and suck my thumb.

**The Virgin Suicides, Jeffrey Eugenides**

The story begins as an ambulance arrives for the body of Mary Lisbon. A group of anonymous neighborhood boys, who have been intrigued by the Lisbon sisters, recall the events that led to this tragic moment. The Lisbon family is Catholic and lives in the suburb of Grosse Pointe, Michigan in the 1970s.

The father, Ronald, is a math teacher at the local high school, while the mother is a homemaker. They have five daughters: 13-year-old Cecilia, 14-year-old Lux, 15-year-old Bonnie, 16-year-old Mary, and 17-year-old Therese.

Without any prior indication, Cecilia attempts suicide by slitting her wrists in the bathtub. Fortunately, she is found in time and survives. A few weeks later, in an effort to cheer her up, their parents allow the girls to throw a chaperoned party at their house. However, Cecilia excuses herself from the party, goes upstairs, and jumps out of her bedroom window. She is impaled on the fence post below and dies almost instantly.

The Lisbon parents then start to watch their four remaining daughters more closely, which causes the family to become isolated from the community. Cecilia's death also intensifies the air of mystery surrounding the Lisbon sisters for the neighborhood boys, who long to have a deeper understanding of the girls' lives. As the story unfolds, more secrets and tragedies come to light, leaving the reader with a sense of sadness and a question mark about the complex lives of the Lisbon sisters.

I don't know why I had the expectation that a book about "female suffering" written by a man would be good.

Maybe it was because I thought he could offer a different perspective. However, this book was very bad!

The author seemed to lack a true understanding of the depth and complexity of female experiences. The descriptions were shallow and failed to capture the essence of what women go through.

It felt like he was simply skimming the surface, rather than delving into the real issues. The storylines were unconvincing and the characters were one-dimensional.

Overall, it was a disappointment and I would not recommend this book to anyone looking for an accurate portrayal of female suffering.