Wednesday, July 4, 2012

The Virgin Suicides, by Jeffrey Eugenides



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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 worshipped them and who now recall their shared adolescence: the brassiere draped over a crucifix belonging to the promiscuous Lux; the sisters' breathtaking appearance on the night of the dance; and the sultry, sleepy street across which they watched a family disintegrate and fragile lives disappear.




I'm not sure why this is part of 1001 Books You Must Read Before You Die. It was just "meh" for me.

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