The Virgin Suicides and the American Dream Final Essay PDF

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The Virgin Suicides and the American Dream Final Essay...

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The Virgin Suicides and the Collapse of the Post-War American Dream Word Count: 3000

After the Second World War, the American Dream was more significant than ever before. Political domination, vast economic growth, and societal stability, meant that the average man was no longer a lower class, struggling worker, but was instead a middle class employee who owned his own home and had a significant degree of comfort. America was seen as the leader of the free world, and its citizens relaxed within this feeling of security. The American Dream was underpinned by the perception of America as exceptional, trustworthy, and committed to equality. In the post-war years, it seemed that anything was possible within the United States. However, in Jeffrey Eugenides’ The Virgin Suicides the applicability and achievability of the American Dream is challenged within the context of 1970’s Detroit. Here, the vision of America as a paradise is darkened by the shadows of segregation, economic collapse, and widespread uncertainty. Through an examination of the suburban setting of the novel, it will be shown that this perceived utopia is little more than a fantasy quickly crumbling around the characters. The sanctity of the American identity and capability is confronted, revealing that the challenges of modernity deeply compromise the picturesque American self-image. The most blatant reference to the post-war American dream, is that of the suburb. After the frantic urbanisation of the 1920’s, the growing, white middle class demanded an alternative to the crammed accommodation that apartment buildings had to offer. The ability to afford a house in the suburbs and the expense of commuting was a key signal of one’s economic prosperity. Suburbs were seen as paradises, where children could be safely raised away from the crime and chaos of urban centres. This is alluded to when the boys mention they could occasionally hear gunshots from the ghetto, but they would be reassured by their fathers that it was “only cars backfiring” (Eugenides 36). In truth, the boys’ upbringing in the

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suburbs has sheltered them from much of reality. It is stated that prior to the girls’ suicides “there had never been a funeral” before in the town (Eugenides 36). Clearly, their suburban hideaway is meant to be a utopia, a landmark of American peace and prosperity, that even death could not touch. However, it is important to remember that these communities were racially homogenous and emphasized the formation of a 1950’s nuclear family. Early critics “vigorously attacked suburbia for its racial discrimination, patriarchal familism, political separatism, and geographical sprawl” (Sharpe and Wallock 2). Since these spaces would go without integration for decades, it meant they did not have to confront issues such as race or gender equality. This reality is hinted to by Eugenides, when it is noted that the local shopping centre had made “improvements to scare black people off”, which included hanging a ghost costume which resembled the uniform of the KKK and removing fried chicken from the menu “without explanation” (99). These details are key as they remind the reader that suburbia is inherently born from artificiality and oppression, making it a far more eerie setting than can be perceived on the surface. In many ways, suburbs are undeniably fleeting, existing in a reality that may never have truly been, simply created for a set group, not unlike the narrative itself. The boys find paradise within their estate because it was created for them, like the post-war American dream, its central anchor is that of the middle class, white man. Suburbs attempt to give off a sense of comfort through their newness and unburdened sensibility, and yet the novel is a longing look back to a suburb in the midst of horrible tragedy. The Virgin Suicides is quick to expose the changing dynamics within suburbs by layering in aspects of decay and collapse which hint at the underlying discourse and anxiety within society as the definition and universality of the American dream is tested. Throughout the novel, elm trees become a significant symbol of suburbia. Their decline mimics the deterioration of the health and well-being of this middle class sanctuary.

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According to the collective narrators, they are the most significant indicator of the suburbs, for there was an “abrupt demarcation where the trees ended and the city began” (Eugenides 34). Their presence is unequivocally tied to that of the Lisbon sisters, as within the opening pages it is stated that the tree from their front yard has been cut down (Eugenides 7). This is further supported by a tree house functioning as a home for the boys’ collection of Lisbon memorabilia. Much like the girls’, the novel opens at the ending of the tree’s life, gradually revealing why it came to such an unexpected conclusion. Through this connection, the collapse of the trees and therefore the ideal of the suburbs becomes unavoidable, they are predestined to fail. Additionally, the male narrators use the same nostalgic tone they use to address the girls to talk about the trees. In one such instance, they fondly reminisce about autumn when they would rake leaves and light them on fire (Eugenides 91). Despite their newfound understanding that the practice produces a considerable amount of pollution, they are still eager to return to this time of blind naivety. The revelation by the boys that most of the trees are gone is a reminder that their peaceful escape, purposefully built between the city and the country, has collapsed. This Eden that they long to return to has been irreversibly destroyed. Critic Francisco Collado-Rodríguez takes this one step further and compares the obliteration of the trees to the consumption of the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge in the Bible (35). Importantly, this signals the characters “becoming conscious of good and evil, and of their own mortality”, this reinforces the novel’s exploration of the end of adolescence (Collado-Rodríguez 35). Significantly, this also paints suburbia as an unrealistic ideal, which cannot handle the complexities of actual life. The boys are being forced to acknowledge the wider world and they refuse. In essence, the suburbs that the boys miss are a falsehood, an impossible dream. The artificiality of the suburbs is also alluded to in the presence and removal of trees from the neighbourhood. Aside from being symbols of nutriment and the ability to thrive,

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they are also themselves records of the past. The rings of a tree document instances of drought or fire, and function as time capsules of naturalistic tragedy. Throughout the novel this sense of lineage is referenced by the Lisbon girls who fight desperately to save the tree in their front yard. Therese claims that the “trees are ancient” so much so that they have developed “evolutionary strategies” (Eugenides 181). In the midst of the artificial falsehood that is their suburb, these trees are the only meaningful shred of authenticity and history left. The exterminator’s desire to remove the tree, despite the girls’ proposition to allow nature to have its way, supports the idea that this environment functions against the natural order; it is created and maintained by men. This is further reinforced by Cecilia’s belief that the trees are not being removed due to illness, but in an effort to “make everything flat” (Eugenides 44). The trees do not conform to the desires of the group in power, and they must be squashed in order to establish a precise order. This is compounded by the fact that the trees feed off the very thing that the townspeople are eager to turn away from: death. It is noted that the trees within the cemetery are “nourished by well-fed carcasses”, the continued destruction of healthy people ensures that that the trees thrive (Eugenides 36). In this way, the trees become the enemy of the quaint suburban inhabitant. They are unruly, revelling in destruction, and capable of acknowledging difficulties. However, once they are removed and replaced with saplings, the boys complain. This demonstrates that in man’s desperation to achieve perfection, they have removed the very thing they liked the most. These details come together to form the idea that the suburbs are not sanctuaries, but rather the opposite. It is an unnatural environment, so keen to achieve and maintain an ideal, it has become corrupted. The generation before the boys “rendered” this world, and eventually it will be shown that it was “not the world they really believed in” (Eugenides 55). In this way, Eugenides is suggesting that the pursuit of the American dream is inherently faulty, it is impossible to achieve because it is so far removed from reality.

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The suburb functions as a highly segregated environment. If it is meant to be a manifestation of the American Dream, it is clearly only intended for a certain type of people. White, Protestant families dominate the story, with the exception of the Lisbon family, who are Catholic. However, this identity is obviously one that Mrs. Lisbon may be trying to hide, she often plays music that would be expected in a “Protestant household” (Eugenides 136). The Lisbons seem to have a difficult time finding their place within the established dynamic of the American suburb, caught between their individuality and assimilation. If Mr. Lisbon’s efforts to find a cemetery for Cecilia are any indication, it would appear that the town has no room for them. The only cemetery that existed in the neighbourhood “filled up long ago in the time of the last deaths (Eugenides 36). The tour of cemeteries that follows reveals not only the diverse pockets of people that surround the suburb not yet able to penetrate it, but also Mr. Lisbon’s racial and ethnic anxiety, which reflects a wider dynamic at play. He discards a plot in the Palestinian section of the West Side, disliking the “muezzin” calling the people to prayer and the rumours that the people “still ritually slaughtered goats in their bathtubs” (Eugenides 37). This rejection is followed by another, this time for a Catholic cemetery in a Polish neighbourhood, however, the funeral director never used this term, but rather the more racially charged “Polack” (Eugenides 37). When Mr. Lisbon finally selects a plot, it is nestled between two freeways, not exactly the tranquil setting one would expect for the funeral of a young girl. Significantly, the cemetery is described as the “flattest they had ever seen” with no religious or individualised landmarks (Eugenides 37). Similar to the trees, there is a sense that a desire to achieve a flat, uniformity has stripped this setting of its intent. The only decoration within the graveyard is a collection of “plastic American flags abused by rain” (Eugenides 37). Somehow in order to achieve the label of American within this suburban context, the deceased have had to give up much of their original identity. However,

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there would appear to be an inherent “fragility of newly established suburban identities, which are always threatened by the return of repressed ethnic memories” (Dines 967). Throughout the novel, there is a constant sense of encroachment. Decay and infestation creep their way into the suburb and are purposefully ignored by the inhabitants in the hopes that they will simply go away. Many of these things make specific reference to their origin, reinforcing the idea of a repressed otherness. The disease responsible for killing the trees is spread by “Dutch elm beetles” (Eugenides 7). At one point Bonnie notes that the trees would still be alive “if the boats didn’t bring the fungus from Europe in the first place” (Eugenides 181). The bats that fly over head in the evening are associated with the immigrant Stamarowski family. At one point, the boys wonder if the Stamarowski’s brought them from Poland noting it would make sense due to the family home’s “Old World decay” (Eugenides 89). The boys are not allowed to attend Cecilia’s funeral “to protect [them] from the contamination” (Eugenides 38). The birth and death of fish-flies are constantly used as an indication of passing time, representing the hot summer months, but also producing sentiments of invasion and destruction. The fungus in the lake continues to grow until the smell becomes “outrageous”, without any attempts to clean it (Eugenides 234). Instead, a summer debutant ball is given the theme of “asphyxiation” asking guests to wear gas masks (Eugenides 234). The sound of crickets “came from every direction, always with the suggestion that the insect world felt more than we did” (Eugenides 234). The constant mentions of insects are reminiscent of biblical plagues, and Eugenides uses visual, auditory, and olfactory imagery to make the phenomenon inescapable and all consuming. All of these details amount to a significant metaphor for the political and economic changes knocking on the door of suburbia. In the 1950’s affluent white families pushed into the suburbs and built their ideal world, now in the 1970’s, an era of substantial societal change, African Americans and immigrants were attempting to follow. Eugenides is inviting the reader to view the

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suburb as a “battleground where the high stakes and indirect costs of racial segregation and domestic policies remain disguised by a facade of denial and decorum” (Wilhite). Straining American economic and political policy are also apparent within the novel. References to war are not uncommon, but they are always to the Second World War and the time of the boys’ fathers, never to the Vietnam war which was far more contemporary, only finishing in 1975. Military references are fleeting and the concepts of death and violence are brushed aside in favour of glorification. However, on an underlying level there is a sense that the American ideal of strength and stability is wavering in the face of legitimate challenge. The men who earned prosperity and peace in the 1940’s are now shells of their former selves. When the men are attempting to remove the fence that Cecilia was impaled on, the boys comment on this rarity of physical labour, comparing the figures to those of the soldiers at Iwo Jima. When the fence is finally removed by a hired professional, the men proceed to stand over the hole admiring their work despite the fact they “hadn’t done anything” (Eugenides 55). Crucially, it is stated that “everyone felt a lot better, as though the lake had been cleared up, or the air, or the other side’s bombs destroyed” (Eugenides 55). There is a sense that the ability to take physical action is comforting, the men wish for the days when problems could be solved using warfare and soldiers, but what they face is far more conceptual. Epidemics involving race, gender, economics, politics, and the environment surround them on every side, and yet they find comfort in the simple removal of a fence. Eugenides is trying to reflect the helplessness that men felt during a period of vast change. The instability of the Cold War, the collapse of manufacturing and the economy, and social discord meant that the future of America was highly unclear. The security and determination associated with America were crumbling and with it the foundations of the American Dream. Up to the 1970’s, the military in America was a reminder of stability. It provided a feeling of protection and was a symbol of American promise at home and abroad. If there was

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a guarantor to the American Dream and the nation’s continued expansion, it was the military. However, every time it is referenced in the narrative, it becomes a symbol of failure. The boys form “military ranks” when clearing away leaves and they would feel such pleasure doing so that they would continue to the point of destruction, raking “up the grass itself” (Eugenides 91). When trying to rescue the ill-fated Lisbon sisters they go “in single file, like paratrooper” (Eugenides, 205). This undoubtedly reflects the reality of the Vietnam War, and the wider recognition that American military policy was as damaging as it was helpful, but also the failure of America to adapt to its changing circumstances. There is a sense that the nation is on a path of self-destruction, dismantled by its own inability to confront modernity and the realisation of globalised power. The American identity within the international community was one of sole leadership, it always knew best, now it must admit this is over. However, Eugenides is clear that this revelation has not occurred. When the men go to remove the fence they assume the “Lisbons would be grateful”, and this action is repeated when the boys are sent by their fathers to sweep up the fish flies from outside the Lisbon home (Eugenides 53). The community is so desperate to maintain its image it has forgotten there is something rotten inside, and the problem will only continue to grow. Like the men, America and its suburbs were haphazardly attempting to pretend everything was fine, while their very foundations shook beneath them. Eugenides establishes the perfect post-war American society and dismantles it. He reveals that the suburbs are a construct, hinting at the fundamental falsity of the American Dream. It was created in a perfect environment, incapable of handling the challenges of reality. Racism, sexism, and classicism become irrefutable roadblocks to achieving acceptance and ease within the American landscape. Ideas of social, economic, and political change are disguised as natural phenomena that eat their way into the picturesque environment, reminding the reader that the 1970’s was a time of vast upheaval. Most

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importantly, Eugenides is able to show that white men were reluctant to acknowledge change because it may mean dealing with discomfort, this becomes a metaphor for America itself, willingly ignorant in the face of evolution.

Works Cited

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Collado-Rodríguez, Francisco. “Back to Myth and Ethical Compromise: García Márquez's Traces on Jeffrey Eugenides's ‘The Virgin Suicides.’” Atlantis, vol. 27, no. 2, 2005, pp. 27–40. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/41055202. DINES, MARTIN. “Suburban Gothic and the Ethnic Uncanny in Jeffrey Eugenides's ‘The Virgin Suicides.’” Journal of American Studies, vol. 46, no. 4, 2012, pp. 959–975., www.jstor.org/stable/23352473. Eugenides, Jeffrey. The Virgin Suicides. Abacus, 2000. Sharpe, William, and Leonard Wallock. “Bold New City or Built-Up 'Burb? Redefining Contemporary Suburbia.” American Quarterly, vol. 46, no. 1, 1994, pp. 1–30. JSTOR, JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/2713349. Wilhite, Keith. "Face the House: Suburban Domesticity and Nation as Home in the Virgin Suicides." MFS Modern Fiction Studies, vol. 61, no. 1, 2015, pp. 1-23.

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