The tone of The Virgin Suicides is jarring. What could be more serious than adolescent suicide, and yet Eugenides writes almost flippantly, so funny at times that I forgot this was a tragedy, not a soap opera. The story itself is composed through word of mouth-what in layman's terms would be called "gossip"-and thus brings with it all the prejudiced perspective of each member of the community. But I like that because maybe that's the best, possibly only, way to consider suicide.
Though the people creating the storyline are middle-aged and balding, it is written from the point of view of a bunch of teenage boys who don't yet even know the life-giving potential of their bodies, let alone understand how that potential can warp into a drive to destruction. The flippancy is necessary, a way for the boys to cope with ideas (i.e. Death) too big for them to handle. But it also shows a respect and value for life as the boys note all the delicate details of the Lisbon girls' lives, and how what they wear and what they do points towards a grave disruption of teenage girl normalcy.
By proxy, this juxtaposition of serious and slight helps us understand the nuances of tension within the community, the murky birthings of suicidal intent, and how the preoccupations of young boys dog them into manhood to resolve into grave (no pun intended) issues such as addiction and divorce.
I haven't finished the book but it's the tone and turn of phrase that pulls me inexorably forwards, wraps me up in each successive death and reels me in to an end I can't yet fathom.
Becca Weber
No comments:
Post a Comment