The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey EugenidesThe Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides

The Virgin Suicides

byJeffrey Eugenides

Paperback | September 20, 2011

see the collection Mental Health: Fiction

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First published in 1993, The Virgin Suicides announced the arrival of a major new American novelist. In a quiet suburb of Detroit, the five Lisbon sisters—beautiful, eccentric, and obsessively watched by the neighborhood boys—commit suicide one by one over the course of a single year. As the boys observe them from afar, transfixed, they piece together the mystery of the family’s fatal melancholy, in this hypnotic and unforgettable novel of adolescent love, disquiet, and death. Jeffrey Eugenides evokes the emotions of youth with haunting sensitivity and dark humor and creates a coming-of-age story unlike any of our time. Adapted into a critically acclaimed film by Sofia Coppola, The Virgin Suicides is a modern classic, a lyrical and timeless tale of sex and suicide that transforms and mythologizes suburban middle-American life.
JEFFREY EUGENIDES was born in Detroit and attended Brown and Stanford Universities. His first novel, The Virgin Suicides, was published to great acclaim in 1993, and he has received numerous awards for his work. In 2003, Eugenides received the Pulitzer Prize for his novel Middlesex, which was also a finalist for the National Book Criti...
Title:The Virgin SuicidesFormat:PaperbackDimensions:256 pages, 8.2 × 5.5 × 0.7 inPublished:September 20, 2011Publisher:Knopf CanadaLanguage:English

The following ISBNs are associated with this title:

ISBN - 10:0307401928

ISBN - 13:9780307401922

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Rated 2 out of 5 by from The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides I simply didn't get this book. I was so desperate to find hidden meaning in it, but there was nothing. Why waste so much paper and ink on something so overtly pretentious and so utterly meaningless? A group of oppressed sisters kill themselves after flirting with the neighborhood boys. How horrible that it happened in the middle of suburban America, where white picket fences are supposed to render such neighborhoods impermeable to tragic teenage death. In the end, all I got from this book was the fact that the girls were peculiar (and hello! at least one was not a virgin when she committed suicide), the boys were immature, the girls' parents were psychotic. Okay, sure, I get that there may have been metaphors and themes about the hypocrisy of middle America, oppressive religion, etc. etc
Date published: 2018-08-28
Rated 2 out of 5 by from The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides I simply didn't get this book. I was so desperate to find hidden meaning in it, but there was nothing. Why waste so much paper and ink on something so overtly pretentious and so utterly meaningless? A group of oppressed sisters kill themselves after flirting with the neighborhood boys. How horrible that it happened in the middle of suburban America, where white picket fences are supposed to render such neighborhoods impermeable to tragic teenage death. In the end, all I got from this book was the fact that the girls were peculiar (and hello! at least one was not a virgin when she committed suicide), the boys were immature, the girls' parents were psychotic. Okay, sure, I get that there may have been metaphors and themes about the hypocrisy of middle America, oppressive religion, etc. etc
Date published: 2018-08-28
Rated 5 out of 5 by from wow! Semi spoiler: I really enjoyed this book. it was a lot different than any other book I've ever read! The book is slow moving, but I found myself flipping through the pages and getting completely entranced in it. I got through it quickly the times I sat down to give it a good read! Since it's not certain who the narrator is, the story is very opened ended, leaving a lot to interpretation. definitley recommend if you wanna try something different.
Date published: 2018-05-23
Rated 4 out of 5 by from original It was an interesting storyline I'd never heard before
Date published: 2018-01-23
Rated 5 out of 5 by from fave this is one of my fave books of all time. lovely writing. #plumreview
Date published: 2018-01-01
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Good Book I've been wanting to read this book for a very longtime, and overall I'm happy I did. However, I wish that there had been more detail in the writing; I really wanted to experience the novel fully, and felt as though I couldn't with the writing style used. Overall, an interesting book.
Date published: 2017-12-27
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Classic This really hurt in a good way.
Date published: 2017-12-23
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Great Read for People That Enjoy Creepy! I bought this book for my final project last year and since I have read it 3 more times. This book is beyond what I could have ever imagined in terms of psychoanalytical theories present. I looked through this book thinking it was a familial cult of some sort and my theory could be very well correct. It's a great book to research and dig deep into but you have to have the stomach to read it as it goes into creepy details and details of the suicides commited.
Date published: 2017-10-15
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Could not put it down This book was an amazing commentary on the dangers of overprotective/religious parents.
Date published: 2017-10-11
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Beautiful and Mysterious As a story, many find this book very unsatisfying, since the reason for the sisters' suicide is implied, however, as a sociology student, the concept behind this book is extremely interesting. This unity between the sisters in a time of isolation is fascinating, especially in their attempt to contact the boys, and adapt to secretive interactions. Its such a hauntingly depressed story, but beautifully executed. Eugenides is good at his craft!
Date published: 2017-10-08
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Depressing but good Depressing but very good read. I read it a while ago but I still remember that I was captivated by the characters.
Date published: 2017-08-22
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Feels Timeless an odd, uncomfortable, but meaningful read. #plumreview
Date published: 2017-06-27
Rated 3 out of 5 by from Tim Burton-esque Unique plot. I would have liked to get a bit more of an explanation for the sister's suicides, but I suppose that was kind of the whole point of the novel.
Date published: 2017-06-16
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Wonderfully Mysterious Really interesting and original premises: 5 beautiful blond sisters commit suicide one after the other and the neighbourhood boys are left to decipher the sisters' motives and stories many years later. This book is obscure, but it's also somehow filled humour and has a child-like feel to it. I also really enjoyed the vintage feel to this novel.
Date published: 2017-06-15
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Incredible I loved this book so much that despite reading it years ago, I still consider it to be one of my favourite novels, and I recommend it to just about everyone.
Date published: 2017-06-06
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Unbelievably Different The story is told through the eyes and ears of the neighborhood boys. Teenage boys who are obsessed with the Lisbon sisters and watch their lives and deaths (or what they know of their lives and deaths) step by step. The Virgin Suicides would seem to be just another tragic tale of American suburbia, but Eugenides transforms it into a unique masterpiece.
Date published: 2017-04-13
Rated 3 out of 5 by from Dark I know this story is supposed to be a contemporary classic, but I just didn't get it. There's no intrigue, no mystery, simply one endless tale of obsessed boys going of tangents every now and then. It is beautifully written though
Date published: 2017-03-05
Rated 5 out of 5 by from So much feeling This book really touched on the internal struggle people go through, while looking back on someone who has committed suicide. The story is very personal and it has a whole third of the story that wasn't included in the movie, so if you're thinking of picking this up because you loved the movie, DO SO!! You won't regret it!
Date published: 2017-03-03
Rated 5 out of 5 by from A wonderfully written masterpiece One of the most beautifully written books I have ever read and will ever read.I highly recommend this novel.
Date published: 2017-02-17
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Tragic and Compelling Such a sad story, but I loved the mystery in it. The ending leaves your imagine running wild as you want to know more about what went on in the Lisbon house.
Date published: 2017-01-23
Rated 1 out of 5 by from can't I'm so upset I didn't like this book. I always loved the movie as a child and it think that it is much better than the book after reading it. The book was so BORING! Entire pages, tens of them, going on and on about nothing. Describing characters that have no meaning at all to the story and minuscule details. I did like the investigation aspect of the story through the boys that "loved them", but it distances you from the Lisbon girls and you don't really care what's going on with them. It was a very short story that doesn't offer very much actual information and wrap-up, although it drags on through the unimportant tedious details that distract you from the fact that you have no idea WTF is going on. It's more of a story that you WANT to enjoy because of the cult popularity around it, than you actually DO enjoy. #plumreview
Date published: 2017-01-22
Rated 4 out of 5 by from A Classic I always wanted to read The Virgin Suicides, and had finally gotten around to it recently. I thoroughly enjoyed reading the novel, but wished it would have gone into a bit more depth. The book was beautifully written and well executed considering its sensitive subject of teenage suicide. I did, although, feel as though there were some loose ends that still needed to be explained. All in all, it was a good read!
Date published: 2017-01-18
Rated 4 out of 5 by from Dark but Eloquent So happy I got around to reading this book as it is such a classic. It was beautifully written but had quite a dark side. I couldn't stop thinking about it after I finished reading it!
Date published: 2016-12-11
Rated 3 out of 5 by from Great but lacking something Great, captivating read but I expected more of a resolution. I finally got around to reading this after years of meaning to, but I felt like I was waiting for a big reveal at the end that never came.
Date published: 2016-12-07
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Poetic and dreamy Eugenides has an amazing writing style. It's very lyrical and sticks with you for a long time. There are parts of this book that I can recite from memory.
Date published: 2016-12-02
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Gorgeous This book made me feel like I was in another world. The writing style and setting are incredible.
Date published: 2016-11-30
Rated 3 out of 5 by from Worth the read This book discussed a powerful subject, teenage suicides, personally I found it a little dull but the it's worth reading for the unique story line
Date published: 2016-11-23
Rated 5 out of 5 by from Captivating The novel was beautifully written and fascinating. I couldn't put it down and I had a major book hangover after- didn't want it to end!
Date published: 2016-11-06

Read from the Book

On the morning the last Lisbon daughter took her turn at suicide— it was Mary this time, and sleeping pills, like Therese— the two paramedics arrived at the house knowing exactly where the knife drawer was, and the gas oven, and the beam in the basement from which it was possible to tie a rope. They got out of the EMS truck, as usual moving much too slowly in our opinion, and the fat one said under his breath, “This ain’t TV, folks, this is how fast we go.” He was carry ing the heavy respirator and cardiac unit past the bushes that had grown monstrous and over the erupting lawn, tame and immaculate thirteen months earlier when the trouble began. Cecilia, the youn gest, only thirteen, had gone first, slitting her wrists like a Stoic while taking a bath, and when they found her, afloat in her pink pool, with the yellow eyes of someone possessed and her small body giving off the odor of a mature woman, the paramedics had been so frightened by her tranquillity that they had stood mesmerized. But then Mrs. Lisbon lunged in, screaming, and the reality of the room reasserted itself: blood on the bath mat; Mr. Lisbon’s razor sunk in the toilet bowl, marbling the water. The paramedics fetched Cecilia out of the warm water because it quickened the bleeding, and put a tourniquet on her arm. Her wet hair hung down her back and already her extremities were blue. She didn’t say a word, but when they parted her hands they found the laminated picture of the Virgin Mary she held against her budding chest. That was in June, fish- fly season, when each year our town is covered by the flotsam of those ephemeral insects. Rising in clouds from the algae in the polluted lake, they blacken windows, coat cars and streetlamps, plaster the municipal docks and festoon the rigging of sailboats, always in the same brown ubiquity of flying scum. Mrs. Scheer, who lives down the street, told us she saw Cecilia the day before she attempted suicide. She was standing by the curb, in the antique wedding dress with the shorn hem she always wore, looking at a Thunderbird encased in fish flies. “You better get a broom, honey,” Mrs. Scheer advised. But Cecilia fixed her with her spiritualist’s gaze. “They’re dead,” she said. “They only live twenty- four hours. They hatch, they reproduce, and then they croak. They don’t even get to eat.” And with that she stuck her hand into the foamy layer of bugs and cleared her initials: C.L. We’ve tried to arrange the photographs chronologically, though the passage of so many years has made it difficult. A few are fuzzy but revealing nonetheless. Exhibit #1 shows the Lisbon house shortly before Cecilia’s suicide attempt. It was taken by a real estate agent, Ms. Carmina D’Angelo, whom Mr. Lisbon had hired to sell the house his large family had long outgrown. As the snapshot shows, the slate roof had not yet begun to shed its shingles, the porch was still visible above the bushes, and the windows were not yet held together with strips of masking tape. A comfortable suburban home. The upper- right second- story window contains a blur that Mrs. Lisbon identified as Mary Lisbon. “She used to tease her hair because she thought it was limp,” she said years later, recalling how her daughter had looked for her brief time on earth. In the photograph Mary is caught in the act of blow- drying her hair. Her head appears to be on fire but that is only a trick of the light. It was June 13, eighty- three degrees out, under sunny skies. When the paramedics were satisfied they had reduced the bleeding to a trickle, they put Cecilia on a stretcher and carried her out of the house to the truck in the driveway. She looked like a tiny Cleopatra on an imperial litter. We saw the gangly paramedic with the Wyatt Earp mustache come out first— the one we’d call “Sheriff” when we got to know him better through these domestic tragedies— and then the fat one appeared, carry ing the back end of the stretcher and stepping daintily across the lawn, peering at his policeissue shoes as though looking out for dog shit, though later, when we were better acquainted with the machinery, we knew he was checking the blood pressure gauge. Sweating and fumbling, they moved toward the shuddering, blinking truck. The fat one tripped on a lone croquet wicket. In revenge he kicked it; the wicket sprang loose, plucking up a spray of dirt, and fell with a ping on the driveway. Meanwhile, Mrs. Lisbon burst onto the porch, trailing Cecilia’s flannel nightgown, and let out a long wail that stopped time. Under the molting trees and above the blazing, overexposed grass those four figures paused in tableau: the two slaves offering the victim to the altar (lifting the stretcher into the truck), the priestess brandishing the torch (waving the flannel nightgown), and the drugged virgin rising up on her elbows, with an otherworldly smile on her pale lips. Mrs. Lisbon rode in the back of the EMS truck, but Mr. Lisbon followed in the station wagon, observing the speed limit. Two of the Lisbon daughters were away from home, Therese in Pittsburgh at a science convention, and Bonnie at music camp, trying to learn the flute after giving up the piano (her hands were too small), the violin (her chin hurt), the guitar (her fingertips bled), and the trumpet (her upper lip swelled). Mary and Lux, hearing the siren, had run home from their voice lesson across the street with Mr. Jessup. Barging into that crowded bathroom, they registered the same shock as their parents at the sight of Cecilia with her spattered forearms and pagan nudity. Outside, they hugged on a patch of uncut grass that Butch, the brawny boy who mowed it on Saturdays, had missed. Across the street, a truckful of men from the Parks Department attended to some of our dying elms. The EMS siren shrieked, going away, and the botanist and his crew withdrew their insecticide pumps to watch the truck. When it was gone, they began spraying again. The stately elm tree, also visible in the foreground of Exhibit #1, has since succumbed to the fungus spread by Dutch elm beetles, and has been cut down. The paramedics took Cecilia to Bon Secours Hospital on Kercheval and Maumee. In the emergency room Cecilia watched the attempt to save her life with an eerie detachment. Her yellow eyes didn’t blink, nor did she flinch when they stuck a needle in her arm. Dr. Armonson stitched up her wrist wounds. Within five minutes of the transfusion he declared her out of danger. Chucking her under her chin, he said, “What are you doing here, honey? You’re not even old enough to know how bad life gets.” And it was then Cecilia gave orally what was to be her only form of suicide note, and a useless one at that, because she was going to live: “Obviously, Doctor,” she said, “you’ve never been a thirteen- year- old girl.” The Lisbon girls were thirteen (Cecilia), and fourteen (Lux), and fifteen (Bonnie), and sixteen (Mary), and seventeen (Therese). They were short, round-buttocked in denim, with roundish cheeks that recalled that same dorsal softness. Whenever we got a glimpse, their faces looked indecently revealed, as though we were used to seeing women in veils. No one could understand how Mr. and Mrs. Lisbon had produced such beautiful children. Mr. Lisbon taught high- school math. He was thin, boyish, stunned by his own gray hair. He had a high voice, and when Joe Larson told us how Mr. Lisbon had cried when Lux was later rushed to the hospital during her own suicide scare, we could easily imagine the sound of his girlish weeping. Whenever we saw Mrs. Lisbon we looked in vain for some sign of the beauty that must have once been hers. But the plump arms, the brutally cut steel- wool hair, and the librarian’s glasses foiled us every time. We saw her only rarely, in the morning, fully dressed though the sun hadn’t come up, stepping out to snatch up the dewy milk cartons, or on Sundays when the family drove in their paneled station wagon to St. Paul’s Catholic Church on the Lake. On those mornings Mrs. Lisbon assumed a queenly iciness. Clutching her good purse, she checked each daughter for signs of makeup before allowing her to get in the car, and it was not unusual for her to send Lux back inside to put on a less revealing top. None of us went to church, so we had a lot of time to watch them, the two parents leached of color, like photographic negatives, and then the five glittering daughters in their homemade dresses, all lace and ruffle, bursting with their fructifying flesh. Only one boy had ever been allowed in the house. Peter Sissen had helped Mr. Lisbon install a working model of the solar system in his classroom at school, and in return Mr. Lisbon had invited him for dinner. He told us the girls had kicked him continually under the table, from every direction, so that he couldn’t tell who was doing it. They gazed at him with their blue febrile eyes and smiled, showing their crowded teeth, the only feature of the Lisbon girls we could ever find fault with. Bonnie was the only one who didn’t give Peter Sissen a secret look or kick. She only said grace and ate her food silently, lost in the piety of a fifteen- year- old. After the meal Peter Sissen asked to go to the bathroom, and because Therese and Mary were both in the downstairs one, giggling and whispering, he had to use the girls’, upstairs. He came back to us with stories of bedrooms filled with crumpled pan ties, of stuffed animals hugged to death by the passion of the girls, of a crucifix draped with a brassiere, of gauzy chambers of canopied beds, and of the effluvia of so many young girls becoming women together in the same cramped space. In the bathroom, running the faucet to cloak the sounds of his search, Peter Sissen found Mary Lisbon’s secret cache of cosmetics tied up in a sock under the sink: tubes of red lipstick and the second skin of blush and base, and the depilatory wax that informed us she had a mustache we had never seen. In fact, we didn’t know whose makeup Peter Sissen had found until we saw Mary Lisbon two weeks later on the pier with a crimson mouth that matched the shade of his descriptions. He inventoried deodorants and perfumes and scouring pads for rubbing away dead skin, and we were surprised to learn that there were no douches anywhere because we had thought girls douched every night like brushing their teeth. But our disappointment was forgotten in the next second when Sissen told us of a discovery that went beyond our wildest imaginings. In the trash can was one Tampax, spotted, still fresh from the insides of one of the Lisbon girls. Sissen said that he wanted to bring it to us, that it wasn’t gross but a beautiful thing, you had to see it, like a modern painting or something, and then he told us he had counted twelve boxes of Tampax in the cupboard. It was only then that Lux knocked on the door, asking if he had died in there, and he sprang to open it. Her hair, held up by a barrette at dinner, fell over her shoulders now. She didn’t move into the bathroom but stared into his eyes. Then, laughing her hyena’s laugh, she pushed past him, saying, “You done hogging the bathroom? I need something.” She walked to the cupboard, then stopped and folded her hands behind her. “It’s private. Do you mind?” she said, and Peter Sissen sped down the stairs, blushing, and after thanking Mr. and Mrs. Lisbon, hurried off to tell us that Lux Lisbon was bleeding between the legs that very instant, while the fish flies made the sky filthy and the streetlamps came on.

Editorial Reviews

“Eugenides is blessed with the storyteller’s most magical gift, the ability to transform the mundane into the extraordinary.” —The New York Times Book Review“Compelling . . . funny, poignant.” —The Miami Herald “The beginning of a major career.” —Entertainment Weekly “Haunting . . . leaves a profound, indelible impression.” —Harper’s Bazaar “Eugenides weaves a sinuous spell. . . . Intoxicating.” —Esquire “Extraordinary.” —Mademoiselle