The one thing that really got my attention was the first person plural narrative. A few men, now in their thirties, narrate the story that marked their adolescence and entire life so far: the suicide of the 5 mysterious Lisbon sisters (their school mates and neighbours), teenagers in an American suburb in the '70s. Haunted by this, they try to understand what made the girls do that, fishing for evidence, interviewing neighbours and trying to figure out things. However, it's not a detective fiction of any type, the tone is rather nostalgic and elegiac.
Interesting reading, not as captivating as I expected, but very well written in its way.
***We could never understand why the girls cared so much about being mature, or why they felt compelled to compliment each other, but sometimes, after one of us had read a long portion of the diary out loud, we had to fight back the urge to hug one another or to tell each other how pretty we were. We felt the imprisonment of being a girl, the way it made your mind active and dreamy, and how you ended up knowing which colors went together. We knew that the girls were our twins, that we all existed in space like animals with identical skins, and that they knew everything about us though we couldn't fathom them at all. We knew, finally, that the girls were really women in disguise, that they understood love and even death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them.