If you already know the ending to a situation, would you have done things differently?
Cecilia commits suicide. And a little bit of me dies. She’s only thirteen and she did it twice.
I am reading The Virgin Suicides, with the ending already made known on the first page, I suppose. And as I flip each page, the words seem to become fishing nets, trawling my psyche deep and hard. Somehow, I feel exposed.
The trepidation that comes with reading the novel, the transient happiness of the Lisbon girls out on a prom dance, gleams even more brightly when I know they’re going to die soon.
Death stares at me from between the pages, playing Hide and Seek.
I feel like I’m reading from a fluorescent lamp on its last legs. More power, more power, more…before it dies and splutters into darkness. You know, the incandescence might actually engulf me before I finish the novel.
1, 2, I’ve found you
And I am only halfway through.