The havirgin suicidesunting, humorous and tender story of the brief lives of the five entrancing Lisbon sisters.

The shocking thing about the girls was how nearly normal they seemed when their mother let them out for the one and only date of their lives. Twenty years on, their enigmatic personalities are embalmed in the memories of the boys who worshiped them and who now recall their shared adolescence. – goodreads.com

Disclaimer: I feel that this book deserves a lengthy review, but this isn’t a review. I encourage you to read the book all the same.

May contain some spoilers.

4.2/5

This story invoked a sadness in me when i was reading it, but it wasn’t the usual feels I would experience this was different, it was like hearing one of your friends relatives died, leaving you with a deflated “oh”.

The virgin suicides is different to other books I’ve read that surround the issue of suicide, they all in some way gave the perspective of of the main character. What they liked what they loathed, why they did it, and in some ways there was always a chance that they would do it, wouldn’t die. and reading the virgin suicides, I had that same hope even though I knew they would all be dead by the end of the book.

A hopeless hope, right until the very end when Lux sat in that chair waiting, I so wanted it to happen for them to be okay to get away from their mother that I believed they were. Maybe it was me, but maybe it was the excellent Jeffrey Eugenides.

This was a slow read for me though, took me four days from when I read the first page to finish the entire book one of those days I didn’t even read it. It did captivate me like I expected it to.

Through the first person plural narrative, I took on the character of one of the boys, and of course I was just as oblivious to what was really going on with the Lisbon sisters. However something that nagged at me throughout the whole book and even now I week after I finished.

Why didn’t the boys just talk to them? if they were so infatuated with them surely they would have made more of an effort. I know I would have no matter how shy I was or awkward the interaction. because it would have been worth it.

I feel that the Lisbon girls suicides could have been prevented, I kind of angry about it. why didn’t anybody call social services when they never left the house, those neighbours, like seriously what the fuck?

You give me this picture of a close community but, you’re trying to tell me there were no straight up nosey people that wanted to see what was going on?

Why didn’t the boys try an rescue the girls sooner, none of them were brave enough or wild, or drunk?

Do not lie to me!

- Honestly though they could have been saved, I just know it. Those fucking boys I swear!

They made these girls mysterious and fantastical (saw this when I googled if it were based on a true story). Because what they’re girls? they go through their trash, but can’t be persistent in their advances.

And now I feel that if I were in the Lisbon girls position, I would definitely contemplate suicide matricide if that’s what it came to, just so my sisters could be free.

Eugenides is genius because I’m always going to have these questions:

Did they even try to run? Why couldn’t they get away?

Was this their only way out?

Why?

-Lexa

To the bottom of the abyss

That is my journey that is my quest

Only when I reach the true bottom

Can I start building.

Only then I can climb and reach for the top

Only then can I breathe

For the first time

In a while.

 

Breaking down, it happens and to be honest and truthful it’s the easiest thing to do. The destruction is made easier by foundations that were damaged and uncompleted in the first place.

I think my foundations are damaged; I can’t even comprehend what I can do to rectify it. I know that when at the brink, the edge of it all I should go to my safe place where ever that is and let it all out, this is easy enough to be said but what I struggle with is, is the letting it all out.

And I blame society for this trait, I among others may feel the need to not show our feelings or talk about them because society told us not to. Society doesn’t really promote it, instead it condemns talking about your feelings and you get called things like ‘bitch, whiney, crazy, soft’ if you do so but sometimes you just need to talk and need someone to just listen. And to be honest the fact is in my book anyone who talks about their feelings is the opposite of those names, because it takes bravery and courage to do so, to make yourself so vulnerable and go against instincts to keep it all in.

By keeping it all in you’re just going to make it worse and I can imagine two outcomes of it:

Like a volcano you hold it in until it’s too much and eventually explode, projectile vomit everywhere but once it’s over it’s over and your fine it really is like vomiting, you’ll feel right as rain afterwards, still it’s damaging in itself it’s slow so you won’t notice until the damage is done. Like acid eroding your teeth, until your sweet smile has completely deteriorated.

Like a fizzy drink you hold it all in and eventually it will stay in and fizzle down until you are flat, no sparkle or fizz. You’d be void of emotion. You’d be a boss of giving no shits. It’s something that I stumbled upon recently. Something that I call The Calm. Sounds great right nothing would bug you anymore… except it’s not great it was something I had never felt before and the only thing I could compare ti t to would be in “The Vampire Diaries” when a vampire turns off their emotions and humanity. If you haven’t seen that show you don’t need to the writing isn’t spectacular.

Think of this calm as the calm after the storm, after the rage, sadness and pain, comes the calm. It’s nothing familiar, it’s strange and daunting and unfriendly.

The first is the less of two evils, but it’s still evil. So please write a letter, or email make a phone call got for coffee. And talk and maybe even listen.

It’s time that we all change and make something beautiful.

-Lexa

Please tell me

why

I must lie

with every step that I take.

the end is near

but the story on going .

Please tell me why

why I feel like a failure and

a fraud

why when I breathe

it feels like a waste

like something bitter

but there’s no taste

Please tell me why

I’m a contradiction

why you say it’s okay

but others tell me it’s not

Please tell me why he

had to die

and why she stays with him

and why I feel a tortured soul

and why he’s like that

and why we can’t be like them

why can’t it be the way that it is

why I feel that I need to change it

to save it to save them

and why above all else

am I full of doubt

Can I do it?

Bury me in bruises

she said

Hit me like a man

Or it will be your biggest mistake.

She sang

She told me

Hit me, Hit me, Hit me

And I did

She wanted it.

She said

More

Harder

Keep going

It doesn’t hurt at all baby

So I did

The her sweet song

Faded.

Into a low whistle.

Still, it was captivating

As her sweet tune.

Lulling me to hit her

And I did

Then silence

No singing

No whistling

Whispering

Just a void

An ache in my fists

Battered

A sting in my bones

Broken

And her

She, still silent. Dead.

The end of her swan song.

-Lexa

AlmostlyHer and her almost smile.
We and our almost always.
nearly,
kind of,
roughly,
approximately,
just about,
more or less,
close to,
pretty much.
Almost;
love you
want you
need you
lust pride
with or without you
I am a sinner
be with me

a love I nearly, might ever know,

- Lexa

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