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A review by haileyldavidson
The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides
3.0
What would you (a man) know about the complexities of girl's suffering?
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This is so odd. At it's worst feels so blatantly disrespectful, at it's best- interesting but lacking in any intelligent compassion, woefully ignorant to its subjects. Just one shallow man's nauseating story about a group of bland and uninteresting men, obsessing over these dead white girls, Manic Pixie Dream Girls, hyper-sexualized teenagers, with a deeper meaning of....what? Exactly? Hot girls might need Lexapro too? Women are not just annoying growths sprouting from the vagina? If this is really meant to convey how you don't truly know your neighbour- maybe it's because you refuse to gaze at them with anything other than your privilege and male desire! food for thought!
I know this is a classic and that doesn't mean it automatically earns my respect as a reader but I feel like I might revisit this- or watch the film to form a second opinion. I don't want to feel as if I didn't put in the effort to understand this. I know the whole book is meant to be a critique on the male gaze but it doesn't feel like one at all. It feels like a man who is a little nervous to poke his fingers deep enough into a systemic issue that would ultimately include himself. It doesn't seem overly concerned. The critique, if there is any there to be found- comes off as shallow and underfed.
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This is so odd. At it's worst feels so blatantly disrespectful, at it's best- interesting but lacking in any intelligent compassion, woefully ignorant to its subjects. Just one shallow man's nauseating story about a group of bland and uninteresting men, obsessing over these dead white girls, Manic Pixie Dream Girls, hyper-sexualized teenagers, with a deeper meaning of....what? Exactly? Hot girls might need Lexapro too? Women are not just annoying growths sprouting from the vagina? If this is really meant to convey how you don't truly know your neighbour- maybe it's because you refuse to gaze at them with anything other than your privilege and male desire! food for thought!
I know this is a classic and that doesn't mean it automatically earns my respect as a reader but I feel like I might revisit this- or watch the film to form a second opinion. I don't want to feel as if I didn't put in the effort to understand this. I know the whole book is meant to be a critique on the male gaze but it doesn't feel like one at all. It feels like a man who is a little nervous to poke his fingers deep enough into a systemic issue that would ultimately include himself. It doesn't seem overly concerned. The critique, if there is any there to be found- comes off as shallow and underfed.