Jeffrey Eugenides - Middlesex

I was born twice: first as a baby girl, on a remarkably smogless Detroit day in January of 1960; and then again as a teenage boy, in an emergency room near Petoskey, Michigan, in August of 1974. So opens Eugenides' epic novel, Middlesex. Calliope "Cal" Stephanides was declared a girl when she came into this world, against the odds. Her grandmother's spoon (which had successfully predicted the sex of previous unborn children) had swung indicating a son would be born, but, Calliope's father begged to differ saying, "it's science" - well, maybe so, but, fourteen years later (despite being raised as a girl), the Stephanides family learnt that "Cal" had a 5-alpha reductase deficiency, which resulted in the doctor figuring a girl had been born, not a boy.

Narrated by Calliope (and then Cal), this novel isn't just about the experience as a hermaphrodite. In fact, the narrator goes back three generations, where the ancestors were fleeing Greece during the Greek-Turk wars in the 1920s. Time moves on to World War II, the Depression, the race riots in Detroit, Detroit and the assembly line and finally, the present. The story adapts and evolves with each historical event, and its significance in the life of Cal and his ancestors.

This book is quite a chunkster at over 520 pages long, and while the gist seems to suggest its predominant focus is Cal's identity crisis, more than half the book focuses on the history and how the relationships through time have resulted in the present. There are incestuous relationships, the whole talk of what is acceptable and what should be avoidable, the "woman's" role vs. the "man's" and the filial and parental devotion that runs through the book, making it interesting and captivating.

The writing style is slightly bizarre, switching between third and first person, almost as though there's two streams of consciousness. But then again, that's one of the things I do love about Eugenides' writing (think The Virgin Suicides and the collective "we" narrator). The book is interesting, and despite being fairly long, it doesn't drag on or feel as though it's missed the final edit. It's humorous, witty and perceptive, with the scope of its narrative being ambitious, and in my opinion, Eugenides does a wonderful job of pulling it off.

This is the first book that I've read, where the central character is a hermaphrodite. It's also the first book I've read which deals with the Greek-Turk wars. However, I have read a fair few books around the whole immigration malarky, and this does manage to not be stereotypical.

Are there any other books you'd recommend which talks of the Greek-Turk history? How about books belonging to the "LGBT" category?

Jeffrey Eugenides - The Virgin Suicides

Once upon a time (in the 1970s), there were five sisters: Cecilia, Therese, Mary, Lux and Bonnie - the Lisbon girls. But Cecilia, the youngest, killed herself. And then, by the end of that one year, there were none.

The Virgin Suicides, written by a collective 'we' (as opposed to 'I', or in third person), traces the events that occurred from the first attempted suicide, to the last, from the eyes of young boys (school mates and neighbors of the Lisbon girls) who are now middle-aged, and still reflecting on the life and times of the enchanting, mesmerizing teenage girls, short, round-buttocked in denim, with roundish cheeks.

The reader takes a trip with them down memory lane in the 1970s elm-streeted America, as they present various 'exhibits'  (a polaroid of their house, canvas high-tops, a brassiere), interview people who knew the Lisbon girls (including their parents), and remember the only time the girls went to a dance, or, the 'party' in the basement of their house, which was followed by the first successful suicide. There were unsigned notes exchanged, a telephone conversation which had the boys and the Lisbon girls playing music back and forth to one another, and of course, the strong presence of the mother's strong Catholic roots, which prompted her to admonish the girls for make-up, bleaching, wearing halter-tops etc.

While this book touches on a very depressing subject, the casual and conversational nature of the book, coupled with the 'legacy' the Lisbon girls left behind hardly makes the reader reach for a pack of tissues.

They (the Lisbon girls) became too powerful to live among us, to self-concerned, too visionary, too blind. What lingered after them was not life, which always overcomes natural death, but the most trivial list of mundane facts: a clock ticking on a wall, a room dim at noon, and the outrageousness of a human being thinking only of herself. [...] They made us participate in their own madness, because we couldn't help but re-trace their steps, re-think their thoughts, and see that none of them led to us.

There's something creepy, almost stalker-like, about these boys, who used to gaze at the Lisbon house, in search for any indication of the Lisbon sisters, and what they were doing - be it looking through their window panes, or keeping an eye on their father, as he would mirror their well-being (this is after the girls rarely, if ever, left home). An element of unrequited love, the curiosity of adolescence and the enigma that surrounded the five sisters, who most people couldn't differentiate by name - the book in a nutshell!

The one thing that baffles me is, there was never any reason given for the first suicide. While the narrators were contemplating on that as well, no conclusive answer was reached, despite them having perused Cecilia's journal. What prompts a thirteen year old to first slit her wrists, and when that doesn't kill her, jump and impale herself on a fence, while a party is going on in the basement?

This is a fantastic debut novel, but, it also leaves a lot to be desired. For one, suicide can't be trivialized, and specially not the suicide of five teenage sisters, which ends up tearing the family apart - or, what's left of it anyway! I also found the characters intriguing, but I couldn't relate to them in any way, shape or form: be it Cecilia, always wanting to wear a wedding dress, or Lux, who has innumerable sexual encounters on the roof of her own house - her parents wouldn't be able to see her. The rest of the neighborhood would!

However, after reading this, I am looking forward to reading Middlesex, as I really enjoyed the style of writing.

Rating: 3