Book Review: The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides

7:53 pm


I'm not sure how to go about expressing my feelings on this one.

I wanted to love it. Really I did. But there's something creepy about a dude writing about other fully-grown dudes lusting over barely-past-pre-pubescent girls they basically stalked in school. I imagine this is how I would feel if I also read Lolita.

Don't get me wrong, the writing in this book was stunning. Absolutely stunning. But then again, it turns suicide into something beautiful. Something glamorous that these beautifully sad young girls took part in together.  The boys in the book spend their whole lives trying to work out why they did it, when it's none of their business. They take the possessions of the dead girls and cradle them like religious artifacts, including locks of their hair. They look around their bathroom and notice tampons, getting excited that one of them was currently on their period.

A few years ago I may have found this beautiful and edgy. A modern classic. But now it just feels like another creepy book about teenage girls, written from the perspective of middle-aged men.

But that's just me. I feel hesitant to post bad reviews of things but it's nice to give a different perspective sometimes.

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