Jeffrey Eugenides was born in Detroit and attended Brown and Stanford Universities. The Virgin Suicides was published in 1993 and was adapted into a motion picture in 1999 by Sofia Coppola. In 2003, Jeffrey Eugenides received the Pulitzer Prize for his novel Middlesex , which was also a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award, the IMPAC Dublin Literary Award, and Frances Prix Mdicis. He joined the faculty of Princeton University in the fall of 2007.
Additional Praise for The Virgin Suicides
Deftly written and intricately imaginedsizzling.
Newsweek
Mr. Eugenides is blessed with the storytellers most magical gift, the ability to transform the mundane into the extraordinary.
The New York Times Book Review
Arrestinguncannily evokes the wry voice of adolescence and a mixture of curiosity, lust, tenderness, morbidity, cynicism, and the naivet surrounding these bizarre events.
The Wall Street Journal
Displays a certain brillianceEugenides has a voice dreamy with mythology and a point of view carved from the poignancy of adolescence. The resulting sensibility is both elegant and quirky, and it infuses his first novel with a graceful, reasoned confidence. Wistful, gloomy, and chillingly funny at onceA fiercely antipastoral novelone with a shocking, elegiac sadness in the eaves.
The Boston Globe
Rhapsodicwith a deft, often comedic touchBy turns hypnotic and elegiac, the novel manages to sustain a high level of suspense in what is clearly an impressive debut.
People
A rare first novel that ends wondrously, on a note of profoundest, most elegant grief.
John Hawkes
Remarkablea black, glittering novelEugenidess engrossing writing style keeps one reading despite a creepy feeling that one shouldnt be enjoying it so much.
Library Journal
CompellingThe book is a balance of sweet awkwardness and contemporary horror, with enough classical, mythic, and religious references to give English lit doctoral candidates a contact high.[ The Virgin Suicides ] is funny, poignant, full of the conflicts of growing up at a disordered time and place.
The Miami Herald
A lyrical and, at times, darkly humorous tale.
Newsday
A hypnotic storytellerA beautiful, funny, and touching novelJeffrey Eugenides has created a mythology out of the ostensibly common materials of middle-class, middle-American lifepurveying a kind of domestic magic realism which is all his own.
Jay McInerney
PiercingWith its incantatory prose, its fascination with teenage tragedy, and its preoccupation with memory and desire and loss The Virgin Suicides insinuates itself into our minds as a small but powerful opera in the unexpected form of a novel.
The New York Times
Extraordinary.
Mademoiselle
TantalizingEugenidess voice is so fresh and compelling, his powers of observation so startling and acute, that most will be mesmerized. An auspicious debut from an imaginative and talented writer.
Publishers Weekly (starred review)
Brassy and laden with ironyyet it achieves its own odd level of tragedy as well, elaborating the scrollwork of teen fantasy in its funniest and most nightmarish possibilities.
Mirabella
A remarkable and beautiful book.
Gilbert Sorrentino
The beginning of a major careerLike Philip Roths Goodbye, Columbus or Amy Tans The Joy Luck Club , this is one of those debuts that make you glad to own your own first edition.
Entertainment Weekly
Not to be missedDebut novelist Eugenides is a heavyweight: Proof of it is in nearly every pitch-perfect sentence of this startling and very good book.[He] writes just about as well as anyone in recent memory has about male teenage desire, mythologizing, and half-rational thought. Maybe the most eccentrically successful, genuinely lyrical first novel since William Whartons Birdy.
Kirkus Reviews (starred review)
ExtraordinaryremarkableEugenides celebrates, grieves, and honors the mystery of the most commonplace lives.
The Times (London)
Eugenides weaves a sinuous spell. In most coming-of-age novels, a thin black line separates intensity from banality, but the peculiar hormonal lyricism of The Virgin Suicides is shot through with sneaky black humor that banishes sentimentality and sociologyall the funny-sad effluvia of growing up concentrated and purified into a slender, intoxicating book.
Esquire
An impressive first novelone of the most macabre denouements in recent fiction.
Glamour
THE VIRGIN SUICIDES
JEFFREY EUGENIDES
Picador
Farrar, Straus and Giroux
New York
For Gus and Wanda
CONTENTS
ONE
On the morning the last Lisbon daughter took her turn at suicideit was Mary this time, and sleeping pills, like Theresethe 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 aint TV, folks, this is how fast we go. He was carrying 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 youngest, 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. Lisbons 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 didnt 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 spiritualists gaze. Theyre dead, she said. They only live twenty-four hours. They hatch, they reproduce, and then they croak. They dont even get to eat. And with that she stuck her hand into the foamy layer of bugs and cleared her initials: C.L.
Weve 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 Cecilias suicide attempt. It was taken by a real estate agent, Ms. Carmina DAngelo, 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.