This book is definitely a cult classic, and I can see its appeal. It's the sort of book a lonely, depressed young woman would savor as revelatory as it could recast their sadness something that makes them ethereal, a fallen angel. The "male gaze" of the neighbor boys adds to the kind of allure of the tortured, broken girls and their tragic draconian circumstances. I think the book is relatively self-aware and the framing device and the gossamer girls are supposed to be a subversion or almost a parody. That being said, I think it is partially genuine which made the book tiresome to me. I think it fetishizes sadness, and I don't need a book to be totally with it on current mental health directives, but with the target audience of vulnerable young girls, it feels more exploitative than artistic. I'm probably too old for this book, but I'm glad I read it for its interesting prose and status as a cultural touchstone.