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L鈥檃mica geniale #4
袉褋褌芯褉褨褟 胁褌褉邪褔械薪芯褩 写懈褌懈薪懈
袩芯写褉褍谐懈 袥褨谢邪 泄 袝谢械薪邪 锌械褉械卸懈谢懈 褔懈屑邪谢芯. 袨斜懈写胁褨 薪械胁褌芯屑薪芯 谢邪屑邪谢懈 褋褌械褉械芯褌懈锌懈, 薪邪屑邪谐邪褞褔懈褋褜 胁懈褉胁邪褌懈褋褟 蟹褨 褋胁褨褌褍 蟹谢懈写薪褨胁 褨 薪邪褋懈谢谢褟. 袙芯薪懈 泻芯褏邪谢懈 褌邪 胁褌褉邪褔邪谢懈, 锌褨写褨泄屑邪谢懈褋褟 褌邪 锌邪写邪谢懈. 袊褏 褉芯蟹写褨谢褟谢懈 泻褨谢芯屑械褌褉懈, 邪谢械 锌芯锌褉懈 胁褋械 胁芯薪懈 褌褉懈屑邪谢懈褋褟 褋胁芯褦褩 薪邪写蟹胁懈褔邪泄薪芯褩 写褉褍卸斜懈. 效械褉械蟹 褌褉懈胁邪谢懈泄 褔邪褋 袝谢械薪邪, 蟹邪褋谢褨锌谢械薪邪 泻芯褏邪薪薪褟屑 写芯 袧褨薪芯, 锌芯胁械褉褌邪褦褌褜褋褟 写芯 袧械邪锌芯谢褟. 袙芯薪邪 胁卸械 褍褋锌褨褕薪邪 泄 褕邪薪芯胁邪薪邪 锌懈褋褜屑械薪薪懈褑褟. 袥褨谢邪 蟹邪褋薪芯胁褍褦 泻芯屑锌鈥櫻幯傂笛€薪褍 褎褨褉屑褍 泄 褋褌邪褦 谢褨写械褉泻芯褞 泻胁邪褉褌邪谢褍, 锌芯褋褍薪褍胁褕懈 屑芯谐褍褌薪褨褏 斜褉邪褌褨胁 小芯谢邪褉. 楔谢褟褏懈 写邪胁薪褨褏 锌芯写褉褍谐 蟹薪芯胁褍 锌械褉械锌谢褨褌邪褞褌褜褋褟. 袥褨谢邪 泄 袝谢械薪邪 褋褌邪褞褌褜 斜谢懈蟹褜泻懈屑懈 褟泻 薪褨泻芯谢懈. 袨写薪邪泻 褋褌褉邪褕薪邪 锌芯写褨褟 蟹屑褨薪懈褌褜 褍褋械.
袩褉芯 邪胁褌芯褉邪: 袝谢械薪邪 肖械褉褉邪薪褌械 鈥� 褨褌邪谢褨泄褋褜泻懈泄 褎械薪芯屑械薪 褋褍褔邪褋薪芯褩 谢褨褌械褉邪褌褍褉懈. 袩懈褋褜屑械薪薪懈褑褟, 褟泻邪 薪械 写邪谢邪 卸芯写薪芯谐芯 褨薪褌械褉胁鈥櫻� 褨 卸芯写薪芯谐芯 褉邪蟹褍 薪械 蟹鈥櫻徯残感恍把佈� 薪邪 锌褍斜谢褨褑褨, 邪谢械 锌芯褌褉邪锌懈谢邪 写芯 褋芯褌薪褨 薪邪泄胁锌谢懈胁芯胁褨褕懈褏 谢褞写械泄 褋胁褨褌褍 蟹邪 胁械褉褋褨褦褞 卸褍褉薪邪谢褍 芦孝邪泄屑禄. 袊褩 泻薪懈卸泻懈 斜邪谐邪褌芯 褉芯泻褨胁 薪械 锌芯谢懈褕邪谢懈 褌芯锌芯胁懈褏 锌芯蟹懈褑褨泄 薪械 褌褨谢褜泻懈 胁 褨褌邪谢褨泄褋褜泻懈褏, 邪 泄 褍 褦胁褉芯锌械泄褋褜泻懈褏 褌邪 邪屑械褉懈泻邪薪褋褜泻懈褏 褋锌懈褋泻邪褏 斜械褋褌褋械谢械褉褨胁.
袩褉芯 邪胁褌芯褉邪: 袝谢械薪邪 肖械褉褉邪薪褌械 鈥� 褨褌邪谢褨泄褋褜泻懈泄 褎械薪芯屑械薪 褋褍褔邪褋薪芯褩 谢褨褌械褉邪褌褍褉懈. 袩懈褋褜屑械薪薪懈褑褟, 褟泻邪 薪械 写邪谢邪 卸芯写薪芯谐芯 褨薪褌械褉胁鈥櫻� 褨 卸芯写薪芯谐芯 褉邪蟹褍 薪械 蟹鈥櫻徯残感恍把佈� 薪邪 锌褍斜谢褨褑褨, 邪谢械 锌芯褌褉邪锌懈谢邪 写芯 褋芯褌薪褨 薪邪泄胁锌谢懈胁芯胁褨褕懈褏 谢褞写械泄 褋胁褨褌褍 蟹邪 胁械褉褋褨褦褞 卸褍褉薪邪谢褍 芦孝邪泄屑禄. 袊褩 泻薪懈卸泻懈 斜邪谐邪褌芯 褉芯泻褨胁 薪械 锌芯谢懈褕邪谢懈 褌芯锌芯胁懈褏 锌芯蟹懈褑褨泄 薪械 褌褨谢褜泻懈 胁 褨褌邪谢褨泄褋褜泻懈褏, 邪 泄 褍 褦胁褉芯锌械泄褋褜泻懈褏 褌邪 邪屑械褉懈泻邪薪褋褜泻懈褏 褋锌懈褋泻邪褏 斜械褋褌褋械谢械褉褨胁.
480 pages, Hardcover
First published October 29, 2014
5483 people are currently reading
74267 people want to read
About the author
Elena Ferrante
51听books18.3k听followersElena Ferrante is a pseudonymous Italian novelist. Ferrante's books, originally published in Italian, have been translated into many languages. Her four-book series of Neapolitan Novels are her most widely known works.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 13,655 reviews
December 2, 2015
This novel nearly broke me.
The Story of the Lost Child is beautifully heartbreaking. It is the culmination of Elena Ferrante's Neapolitan series, and it wraps up the story of two friends, Elena and Lila. I spent my summer with these two women. I read the first book, My Brilliant Friend, just to see what all the Ferrante Fever fuss was about, and I didn't expect to read any more of the series. But I ended up intrigued and wanting more, and I gobbled up Books 2 and 3 as quickly as I could.
In this fourth book, Elena has run away from her marriage to Pietro and has a passionate affair with Nino, the boy she has loved since childhood. Lila is opposed to the affair, and the women's friendship becomes even more strained. Meanwhile, Elena's writing career has ups and downs, and Lila becomes entangled in the underground politics of their old neighborhood in Naples.
It is hard to explain to someone who hasn't read Ferrante why these novels are so powerful. On the surface, they sound like any other domestic drama 鈥� two women living their lives, experiencing love and loss, going through the highs and lows of marriage and parenthood.
But it's not that simple. Their lives are so well-drawn, their emotions and experiences are so real, and the history and neighborhoods of Italy are so well-described that this book feels more like an autobiography than a novel. The Ferrante books are rich in the same way that Tolstoy's novels are a feast. To paraphrase an Internet meme, One does not simply read a Ferrante book. One lives it.
I have become deeply connected to Elena and Lila over these four books. When Elena's mother is diagnosed with cancer, and Elena has to care for her, I nodded in sympathy, for I, too, am caring for a mother with cancer. When Elena experiences incredible heartbreak, I empathized and remembered my own heartbreak. When Lila suffers a devastating loss and is consumed with manic grief, I thought of my own despair after a loss.
Some reviewers have said this fourth novel is the best one in the series. I honestly couldn't rank them. They are all part of one epic story, and I feel both sadness and triumph now that I have finished reading. Sad because I will miss spending time with these amazing women, and triumph at what Ferrante has accomplished. Truly, this is a modern masterpiece.
Favorite Quotes
"How many words remain unsayable even between a couple in love, and how the risk is increased that others might say them, destroying it."
"Good feelings are fragile, with me love doesn't last. Love for a man doesn't last, not even love for a child, it soon gets a hole in it. You look in the hole and you see the nebula of good intentions mixed up with the nebula of bad."
"I thought: maybe every relationship with men can only reproduce the same contradictions and, in certain environments, even the same smug responses."
"From childhood I had given her too much importance, and now I felt as if unburdened. Finally it was clear that what I was wasn't her, and vice versa. Her authority was no longer necessary to me, I had my own. I felt strong, no longer a victim of my origins but capable of dominating them, of giving them a shape, of taking revenge on them for myself, for Lila, for whomever."
"One writes not so much to write, one writes to inflict pain on those who wish to inflict pain. The pain of words against the pain of kicks and punches and the instruments of death."
"Where is it written that lives should have a meaning?"
"I was distressed that nothing of me would endure through time."
"Unlike stories, real life, when it has passed, inclines toward obscurity, not clarity."
The Story of the Lost Child is beautifully heartbreaking. It is the culmination of Elena Ferrante's Neapolitan series, and it wraps up the story of two friends, Elena and Lila. I spent my summer with these two women. I read the first book, My Brilliant Friend, just to see what all the Ferrante Fever fuss was about, and I didn't expect to read any more of the series. But I ended up intrigued and wanting more, and I gobbled up Books 2 and 3 as quickly as I could.
In this fourth book, Elena has run away from her marriage to Pietro and has a passionate affair with Nino, the boy she has loved since childhood. Lila is opposed to the affair, and the women's friendship becomes even more strained. Meanwhile, Elena's writing career has ups and downs, and Lila becomes entangled in the underground politics of their old neighborhood in Naples.
It is hard to explain to someone who hasn't read Ferrante why these novels are so powerful. On the surface, they sound like any other domestic drama 鈥� two women living their lives, experiencing love and loss, going through the highs and lows of marriage and parenthood.
But it's not that simple. Their lives are so well-drawn, their emotions and experiences are so real, and the history and neighborhoods of Italy are so well-described that this book feels more like an autobiography than a novel. The Ferrante books are rich in the same way that Tolstoy's novels are a feast. To paraphrase an Internet meme, One does not simply read a Ferrante book. One lives it.
I have become deeply connected to Elena and Lila over these four books. When Elena's mother is diagnosed with cancer, and Elena has to care for her, I nodded in sympathy, for I, too, am caring for a mother with cancer. When Elena experiences incredible heartbreak, I empathized and remembered my own heartbreak. When Lila suffers a devastating loss and is consumed with manic grief, I thought of my own despair after a loss.
Some reviewers have said this fourth novel is the best one in the series. I honestly couldn't rank them. They are all part of one epic story, and I feel both sadness and triumph now that I have finished reading. Sad because I will miss spending time with these amazing women, and triumph at what Ferrante has accomplished. Truly, this is a modern masterpiece.
Favorite Quotes
"How many words remain unsayable even between a couple in love, and how the risk is increased that others might say them, destroying it."
"Good feelings are fragile, with me love doesn't last. Love for a man doesn't last, not even love for a child, it soon gets a hole in it. You look in the hole and you see the nebula of good intentions mixed up with the nebula of bad."
"I thought: maybe every relationship with men can only reproduce the same contradictions and, in certain environments, even the same smug responses."
"From childhood I had given her too much importance, and now I felt as if unburdened. Finally it was clear that what I was wasn't her, and vice versa. Her authority was no longer necessary to me, I had my own. I felt strong, no longer a victim of my origins but capable of dominating them, of giving them a shape, of taking revenge on them for myself, for Lila, for whomever."
"One writes not so much to write, one writes to inflict pain on those who wish to inflict pain. The pain of words against the pain of kicks and punches and the instruments of death."
"Where is it written that lives should have a meaning?"
"I was distressed that nothing of me would endure through time."
"Unlike stories, real life, when it has passed, inclines toward obscurity, not clarity."
March 23, 2021
un like = una mazzata a Nino Sarratore
September 18, 2015
This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My only friend, the end
Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes...again
Can you picture what will be
So limitless and free
Desperately in need...of some...stranger's hand
In a...desperate land
Lost in a Roman...wilderness of pain
And all the children are insane
All the children are insane
Waiting for the summer rain, yeah
~The Doors, "The End"
Nothing about the way the Neapolitan Novels has captured and held me spellbound makes sense. Pages of expository text barely broken by a paragraph indent; characters relentlessly bashing their heads against poverty and violence, returning again and again to the places and people that have caused them the greatest misery; periods of hope and redemption brought to bitter ends by poor choices and slashing domestic acrimony. And yet. And yet. I know that by reading Elena Ferrante's bildungsroman, I have partaken in one of the greatest literary journeys, feasts, dreams, accomplishments of the 21st century. It isn't so much that the Neapolitan Novels, built on the simple premise of a female friendship from childhood to old age, breaks new ground. It's that Ferrante returns us to the best of what we can be as readers: thoughtful, patient, introspective, willing to dig deep into layers of meaning, to see beyond the cold surface of quotidian events to the simmering magma of emotion beneath. In eras past, Eliot, Mann, Tolstoy, Woolf, Hardy demanded the same and the rewards of Ferrante are as great.
This final installment brings Elena Greco full circle, back to the neighborhood she fled as a young woman鈥攆irst to the towers of academe, then to literary acclaim, spending her young adulthood and her early years as a wife and mother in the orderly, civilized north of Italy. But as her friend Lila had done years before, Elena throws propriety and security to the winds and follows her passion back to Naples, the scene of so much crime in the streets, so many crimes of the heart. That passion is the fickle Nino, the man-boy to whom both women sacrifice their burgeoning self-determination. I'm just full of lyrics today鈥攁s I think of Nino, of young Lila's and not-so-young Elena's obsession with his empty soul, I hear Paul Simon lamenting: "I have squandered my resistance for a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises All lies and jest, still a man hears what he wants to hear And disregards the rest, hmmmm".
We know from the very beginning鈥攈undreds of pages ago, when we embarked on this political and personal Odyssey鈥攖hat Lila has disappeared as an elderly woman, at the twisted and burnt end of her rope. But where has she gone? The legacy she leaves behind is that molten lava roiling beneath the surface, and in The Story of the Lost Child, the hard, black earth is rent open, letting the impossible heat burst forth. Elena seems more curious than concerned by Lila's disappearance. Her friend's presence hovers, thick and insistent, over every aspect of her life; Lost Child illustrates how and why this friendship has endured despite the psychological damage each woman inflicts on the other.
The title, The Story of the Lost Child, can be taken for its literal meaning, as the plot bursts with tension and tragedy. But the entire collection speaks to children lost in this Neapolitan ghetto, the children we met pages and heartbreaks ago. We witnessed their twisted paths to adulthood over the course of four novels, until at last we npw stand with them at a reckoning place. The great loss is the reader's, knowing we must bid our final goodbyes to the Grecos, Cerullos, Carraccis, Pelusos, Sarratores and so many others, with so much left unsaid and unknown.
And undone. Oh, how our hearts are utterly undone.
April 4, 2018
The tunnel on the edge of the neighbourhood, beyond which Lila couldn't pass.
When I arrived in Naples I had just read the Claudio Gatti article which claimed to expose Elena Ferrante's real identity. I remembered being amazed, when it had come out back in 2016, by the fury it had provoked. People were outraged! Not just readers but literary editors too had lined up to condemn the piece 鈥� putting across, in the process, a lot of wrong-headed ideas about 鈥榯he death of the author鈥� which should really have been kept separate from the ethical concerns in question.
But now I've finished the last book I think I understand the disproportionate reaction a bit better. The Story of the Lost Child is, like its three predecessors, a bit of a messy novel, stylistically indifferent, but intensely emotional and involving. And everyone struggles to understand why. Despite what some reviews imply, this kind of long, female-focused 碍眉苍蝉迟濒别谤谤辞尘补苍 is not a complete novelty 鈥� it's not a million miles from Doris Lessing's Children of Violence sequence, or AS Byatt's Frederica quartet 鈥� and even the notion of a woman trying to piece together the details of her friend's life is, if Gatti is right, probably lifted from Christa Wolf's The Quest for Christa T. But Ferrante's characters 鈥� especially the flinty, talismanic Lila 鈥� are so comprehensively imagined that they must, you feel, reflect something essentially autobiographical, something profoundly true, on the part of the author.
So I get to Naples. I've just read book four, I've just read Gatti's article. I want to go and see the rione or 鈥榥eighbourhood鈥� where the books are set, which is a run-down little area of estates in the eastern suburbs called the Rione Luzzatti. I ask a few cab drivers: they won't take us to that part of town. 鈥楾he criminal families live there,鈥� one leers. Then I try some tour agents 鈥� they all refuse as well. One of them even specialises in Elena Ferrante tours, but it turns out on further inquiry that they just go to the upmarket Piazza dei Martiri (where the characters go shopping when they've got some money) and the historical centre. 鈥楾he rione is not good for tourists,鈥� I am told. 鈥楢ctually, even we do not go there.鈥�
Eventually, though, I find someone who knows someone who has a friend who will take us. Laura, who grew up in the rione herself, comes to meet us: she is super friendly and, far from being offended by our desire to gawk at her childhood stomping-ground, which is what I'd been worried about, she actually seems rather touched by it, and is genuinely excited about the chance to show us around. We walk down the famous stradone, litter-swept and bleak, and peer through grates into communal cellars like the one where Lila dropped Len霉's doll. We walk through the tunnel that marked the edge of the girls' world, where some of the lights have been smashed, the better to mug people walking back home from the nearest metro station. We walk by the school, where 11-year-old Laura had to fend off knife crime from 16-year-olds who had been held back so many times they were sitting right next to her in class. We creep into the courtyard where Lila's apartment is set and where, locals are convinced, from cross-referencing details in a variety of books and articles, Ferrante herself once lived.
Ferrante's old apartment. Maybe.
Laura and her friends, she says, are proud and happy that Ferrante has now immortalised the place 鈥榝or something positive 鈥� for books, for literature鈥�. I am a little surprised, if only because, in the novels, the locals are not so happy when Len霉 starts writing about the area.
But of course, Elena Greco is not Elena Ferrante. It's always an effort to remember that, because that's the conceit that the books are selling: an author called Elena writing a narrator who is an author called Elena. Draw your own conclusions, they suggest. And yeah, they must surely contain lots that is true, like all good fiction does. But reading these books is such an overwhelming experience that the slightest retreat from autobiography starts to feel almost unacceptable: OK, OK, maybe you've reordered events a bit, drawn out a couple of poetic coincidences, conflated a couple of minor characters here and there 鈥� but the essentials are true, right? You really grew up like this, didn't you? There's a real Lila out there somewhere鈥es?
The Bar Parisi, the assumed original of the Solaras' bar
The idea that the author could be in here somewhere, waiting to be found, is helped along by the books' constant theme of authorship and unstable identities. We don't know who wrote what, only that both Elena and Lina have been writing something; Elena worries that Lina has quasi-mystically entered into her computer to tell her story her own way; then she denies it. There is an almost Nervalian reduplication of women, starting with the Len霉/Lila pairing, one blonde, one brunette, one who leaves, one who stays, one who writes fiction, the other who writes computer code;
I fair, she dark, I calm, she anxious, I likeable, she malicious, the two of us opposite and united鈥�.
Even their daughters are mistaken for each other, misidentified. And Lina is further refracted into their friend Alfonso, who looks like her and starts to dress like her, too. At times, Lina the character seems to recognise her own fluidity. She talks about disappearing, about erasing herself; she does in fact vanish without trace. And she has regular psychological episodes of smarginatura, the 鈥榖leeding鈥� of one object or person into another, which Ann Goldstein translates a little awkwardly as dissolving boundaries. All of this is, really, in the service of the fantasy of an 鈥楨lena Ferrante鈥� who can become whoever we need her to be for the novels to have the greatest power for us.
Piazza Salvatore Lobianco
Standing in the little square, Hannah and I get a bit emotional. Actually, the area is a lot like parts of Livingston, where my wife grew up; it's like run-down, neglected suburbs in a lot of cities. To elevate this kind of urban wasteland into something transcendent seems like a heroic feat 鈥� it suddenly reminds me a bit of what Alan Moore did with Northampton, though it's even more impressive because there are no forgotten historical riches underlying the Rione Luzzatti 鈥� it's just stark, rationalist housing, built by Fascists, and subsequently ignored. Until Ferrante.
But again I check myself immediately. I'm constructing my own emotional story of what Ferrante did, the same way all readers of these books do. How much difference would it make if that isn't her apartment, if she grew up miles away in Rome, if her husband was the one with the Neapolitan childhood, the dialect? If it was all a brilliant fabrication? What would that do to our experience of the books?
It's almost 鈥� I say to Hannah 鈥� like the greatest creation in these novels is not anyone listed in the cast, but 鈥楨lena Ferrante鈥� herself. Hannah nods. But all morning we stare at every old woman we pass, searching for Lila Cerullo's face.
December 30, 2018
After re-reading this series, I can confirm it's one of my all-time favorites. Ferrante is a writer I admire so much, and like I said in my original reviews, one that I know confidently I can, and will, read again and again throughout my life.
---
Original Review:
I'm done. I'm actually done. The journey is over, and what a wonderful journey it was. Maybe soon I will be able to write a better review, but for now I can only say that this series is truly unlike anything I've read. It's a modern masterpiece, and Elena Ferrante is one of the greatest living authors. I'm sure to revisit these books again and again and again. In the mean time, goodbye Lila & Lenu. It's been a pleasure.
First read: March 26 - April 1, 2016
Second read: December 26 - 30, 2018
---
Original Review:
I'm done. I'm actually done. The journey is over, and what a wonderful journey it was. Maybe soon I will be able to write a better review, but for now I can only say that this series is truly unlike anything I've read. It's a modern masterpiece, and Elena Ferrante is one of the greatest living authors. I'm sure to revisit these books again and again and again. In the mean time, goodbye Lila & Lenu. It's been a pleasure.
First read: March 26 - April 1, 2016
Second read: December 26 - 30, 2018
June 22, 2024
I'm devastated.
October 30, 2016
I鈥檝e never read a series before. Finally I understand why people sleep outside bookstores the day before the next instalment is due to be published. Were there to be a book five I might well zipper myself inside a bag outside Feltrinelli the night before release. Except there will be no next instalment here. I鈥檓 done. Lila has left my life and I will never know anything more about her. I feel horribly bereft.
Book Four has less of a feel of fictional memoir about it; it reads more like a novel. It contains some clever post-modernist tricks, most notably the book within a book theme. Elena Greco finally writes about Lila, except it isn鈥檛 these books (these books play no part whatsoever in her story); it鈥檚 a seventy page novella called Friendship. Meanwhile she has the suspicion that Lila is writing secretly about Naples. In spirit, these have always been Lila鈥檚 books. Now Elena lets slip the possibility that maybe they really are Lila鈥檚 books. Vanity is probably the central theme of this book but authorship is also a prevailing theme. Ferrante asks many probing questions about the nature of authorship. And we end up asking, who is the author of the Neapolitan series?
Elena becomes rather more disagreeable in this book. She becomes vain and a bit petty. Especially in contrast to Lila, who seems to live without any recourse to vanity, which is why perhaps she鈥檚 such a compelling and deeply fascinating character. The only other author I can recall who attempted to create a character free of vanity was Dostoevsky with The Idiot and, brilliant as that was, I'd have to say Ferrante did a better job than he did. It began to bother me how disagreeable I was finding Elena and her vanity. I wasn鈥檛 at all sure this was what Ferrante intended. Then I realised that what Ferrante intended was probably exactly the confusion I was feeling. This isn鈥檛 one of those run of the mill novels where every character is morally and emotionally consistent and so has a clearly designated and manipulative charge and endgame. It鈥檚 a novel that constantly springs surprises, that constantly makes you stop and question lazy emotional and moral assumptions you realise you harbour. One thing Ferrante does so well is get at the anatomy of every strong emotion. Emotions aren鈥檛 single and straightforward. Every emotion carries the charge of its opposite. Emotion in fact is often us arguing with ourselves. She shows how hate can be simultaneously present with love, jealousy with aspiration, admiration with resentment, conviction with doubt. I don't think any writer has done arguing better than Ferrante. You could say the books are one protracted argument 鈥� everyone is constantly arguing, romantically, domestically, politically, socially - and you come to realise that this what life is, a long protracted messy argument. Lila is almost like some magical touchstone creature. Even when she appears to be wrong she turns out to be right. I don鈥檛 think she鈥檚 wrong once in the entire novel and yet she鈥檚 far from some simplistic Obi Wan Kenobi; she鈥檚 hugely complex, volatile, divisive, contradictory, spontaneous, calculated, adorable, obnoxious. She bristles with lived life on every page. In contrast, the more of Elena鈥檚 vanity we see the more we doubt that Elena Greco could have written these novels. You begin to feel only Lila could have.
For me Lila is up there with Anna Karenina, Molly Bloom and Mrs Ramsey as one of the great female characters of literature. No question in my mind Ferrante will be on the classics shelf in two hundred years.
Book Four has less of a feel of fictional memoir about it; it reads more like a novel. It contains some clever post-modernist tricks, most notably the book within a book theme. Elena Greco finally writes about Lila, except it isn鈥檛 these books (these books play no part whatsoever in her story); it鈥檚 a seventy page novella called Friendship. Meanwhile she has the suspicion that Lila is writing secretly about Naples. In spirit, these have always been Lila鈥檚 books. Now Elena lets slip the possibility that maybe they really are Lila鈥檚 books. Vanity is probably the central theme of this book but authorship is also a prevailing theme. Ferrante asks many probing questions about the nature of authorship. And we end up asking, who is the author of the Neapolitan series?
Elena becomes rather more disagreeable in this book. She becomes vain and a bit petty. Especially in contrast to Lila, who seems to live without any recourse to vanity, which is why perhaps she鈥檚 such a compelling and deeply fascinating character. The only other author I can recall who attempted to create a character free of vanity was Dostoevsky with The Idiot and, brilliant as that was, I'd have to say Ferrante did a better job than he did. It began to bother me how disagreeable I was finding Elena and her vanity. I wasn鈥檛 at all sure this was what Ferrante intended. Then I realised that what Ferrante intended was probably exactly the confusion I was feeling. This isn鈥檛 one of those run of the mill novels where every character is morally and emotionally consistent and so has a clearly designated and manipulative charge and endgame. It鈥檚 a novel that constantly springs surprises, that constantly makes you stop and question lazy emotional and moral assumptions you realise you harbour. One thing Ferrante does so well is get at the anatomy of every strong emotion. Emotions aren鈥檛 single and straightforward. Every emotion carries the charge of its opposite. Emotion in fact is often us arguing with ourselves. She shows how hate can be simultaneously present with love, jealousy with aspiration, admiration with resentment, conviction with doubt. I don't think any writer has done arguing better than Ferrante. You could say the books are one protracted argument 鈥� everyone is constantly arguing, romantically, domestically, politically, socially - and you come to realise that this what life is, a long protracted messy argument. Lila is almost like some magical touchstone creature. Even when she appears to be wrong she turns out to be right. I don鈥檛 think she鈥檚 wrong once in the entire novel and yet she鈥檚 far from some simplistic Obi Wan Kenobi; she鈥檚 hugely complex, volatile, divisive, contradictory, spontaneous, calculated, adorable, obnoxious. She bristles with lived life on every page. In contrast, the more of Elena鈥檚 vanity we see the more we doubt that Elena Greco could have written these novels. You begin to feel only Lila could have.
For me Lila is up there with Anna Karenina, Molly Bloom and Mrs Ramsey as one of the great female characters of literature. No question in my mind Ferrante will be on the classics shelf in two hundred years.
November 22, 2014
Posso esimermi dal dare un commento lucido e ragionato? Ho appena chiuso il volume. Ci貌 che sento 猫 di aver lasciato una storia cattiva, smarginata, insalubre. 脠 stato come guardare un pozzo nero, con qualche riflesso di luce appena che per貌 mi ha abbagliato.
December 27, 2022
IL CERCHIO SI CHIUDE
Diventare amiche: 鈥i diede la mano. Questo gesto cambi貌 tutto tra noi per sempre.
Per il primo paio di pagine ho fatto un po鈥� fatica a riannodare il filo: bench茅 il racconto riprenda esattamente dal punto dove era stato interrotto la volta precedente, alla fine del terzo romanzo, Storia di chi parte e di chi resta, 猫 comunque passato un anno da allora.
Ma 猫 stata una sensazione di breve durata: in poco tempo Elena Ferrante mi ha preso e portato via, mi ha trascinato con s茅, all鈥檌nseguimento della vita e nella vita - nella vita dei suoi personaggi, incalzandoli, seguendoli, entrando nel loro intimo, nei recessi pi霉 nascosti, negli umori cattivi, per quanto a volte innocui.
La bambola e l鈥檕mbra di don Achille.
Sempre con quella sua caratteristica che consiste nel sapere svelare e mostrare il lato oscuro e meno gradevole dell鈥檃nimo umano, la dark side quotidiana, quella con cui si convive ogni giorno, la grettezza la meschinit脿 la malizia la gelosia la violenza l鈥檌nvidia la malignit脿 l鈥檌ntolleranza con cui ogni giorno dialoghiamo, vuoi per sopprimerle o metterle a tacere, vuoi per dar loro un po鈥� di sfogo.
Quale pi霉, quale meno. Chi pi霉, chi meno.
脠 come un鈥檕nda, di quelle grandi, che crea un tunnel, e io lettore ci sono dentro, nel tunnel, trasportato dalla forza dell鈥檃cqua, surfando come se fossi nato sulla tavola.
Catherine McCormack-Lila, straordinaria.
脠 una lettura che crea dipendenza, assuefazione, come gi脿 lo hanno fatto le oltre mille pagine che hanno preceduto queste: la dose quotidiana non pu貌 scendere sotto le cento pagine.
Ferrante scava, va al fondo dell鈥檕scurit脿, la racconta con precisione.
E verrebbe da sentirsi intrusi, indiscreti, spioni: non fosse che la qualit脿 della scrittura 猫 tale che questo rischio 猫 evitato.
Poi si giunge all鈥檈pilogo, intitolato 鈥楻estituzione鈥�: sono solo cinque pagine, non ci si pu貌 illudere, siamo arrivati alla fine.
Ecco, dopo, 猫 proprio come nella canzone: la musica 猫 finita, gli amici se ne vanno, e tu mi lasci solo pi霉 di prima鈥�, la casa si svuota, improvvisamente non si sente pi霉 parlare, neanche una parola di napoletano, tutte quelle facce familiari, tutti quegli amici, quelle due bambine diventate adulte, e donne, e anziane, diventate soprattutto grandi, Grandi, tutte quelle storie, quei fatti, gli episodi, le partenze, i ritorni鈥�
Beh, no, non proprio come nella canzone: sono finiti, ma non sono perduti, ci si sente soli, ma riscaldati, illuminati.
Le due amiche geniali, my brilliant friends.
Si 猫 ripetuta la magia della grande letteratura.
Anche ora che sapevo della malattia di mia figlia, non riuscivo a cacciare via la soddisfazione per ci貌 che ero diventata, il gusto di sentirmi libera spostandomi per l鈥橧talia, il piacere di disporre di me come se non avessi un passato e tutto stesse cominciando adesso.
Diventare amiche: 鈥i diede la mano. Questo gesto cambi貌 tutto tra noi per sempre.
Per il primo paio di pagine ho fatto un po鈥� fatica a riannodare il filo: bench茅 il racconto riprenda esattamente dal punto dove era stato interrotto la volta precedente, alla fine del terzo romanzo, Storia di chi parte e di chi resta, 猫 comunque passato un anno da allora.
Ma 猫 stata una sensazione di breve durata: in poco tempo Elena Ferrante mi ha preso e portato via, mi ha trascinato con s茅, all鈥檌nseguimento della vita e nella vita - nella vita dei suoi personaggi, incalzandoli, seguendoli, entrando nel loro intimo, nei recessi pi霉 nascosti, negli umori cattivi, per quanto a volte innocui.
La bambola e l鈥檕mbra di don Achille.
Sempre con quella sua caratteristica che consiste nel sapere svelare e mostrare il lato oscuro e meno gradevole dell鈥檃nimo umano, la dark side quotidiana, quella con cui si convive ogni giorno, la grettezza la meschinit脿 la malizia la gelosia la violenza l鈥檌nvidia la malignit脿 l鈥檌ntolleranza con cui ogni giorno dialoghiamo, vuoi per sopprimerle o metterle a tacere, vuoi per dar loro un po鈥� di sfogo.
Quale pi霉, quale meno. Chi pi霉, chi meno.
脠 come un鈥檕nda, di quelle grandi, che crea un tunnel, e io lettore ci sono dentro, nel tunnel, trasportato dalla forza dell鈥檃cqua, surfando come se fossi nato sulla tavola.
Catherine McCormack-Lila, straordinaria.
脠 una lettura che crea dipendenza, assuefazione, come gi脿 lo hanno fatto le oltre mille pagine che hanno preceduto queste: la dose quotidiana non pu貌 scendere sotto le cento pagine.
Ferrante scava, va al fondo dell鈥檕scurit脿, la racconta con precisione.
E verrebbe da sentirsi intrusi, indiscreti, spioni: non fosse che la qualit脿 della scrittura 猫 tale che questo rischio 猫 evitato.
Poi si giunge all鈥檈pilogo, intitolato 鈥楻estituzione鈥�: sono solo cinque pagine, non ci si pu貌 illudere, siamo arrivati alla fine.
Ecco, dopo, 猫 proprio come nella canzone: la musica 猫 finita, gli amici se ne vanno, e tu mi lasci solo pi霉 di prima鈥�, la casa si svuota, improvvisamente non si sente pi霉 parlare, neanche una parola di napoletano, tutte quelle facce familiari, tutti quegli amici, quelle due bambine diventate adulte, e donne, e anziane, diventate soprattutto grandi, Grandi, tutte quelle storie, quei fatti, gli episodi, le partenze, i ritorni鈥�
Beh, no, non proprio come nella canzone: sono finiti, ma non sono perduti, ci si sente soli, ma riscaldati, illuminati.
Le due amiche geniali, my brilliant friends.
Si 猫 ripetuta la magia della grande letteratura.
Anche ora che sapevo della malattia di mia figlia, non riuscivo a cacciare via la soddisfazione per ci貌 che ero diventata, il gusto di sentirmi libera spostandomi per l鈥橧talia, il piacere di disporre di me come se non avessi un passato e tutto stesse cominciando adesso.
December 28, 2014
There is a terrible sense of loss once you reach the last line of the last volume of Ferrante's saga, her writing is so addictive, it has kept me company for over a year now and waiting for the next installment of the story has been a delightful suspense.I feel abandoned to my own device now that the curtain fell on this wonderful story. The last volume "La bambina Perduta" has just been published in Italy,so I've devoured it in three days and it's not a disappointment. It has a somehow slow start, with a tremendous and unexpected twist that comes as a blow half way through the book. Her writing keeps digging, like a furious fox terrier the depths and the folds of the relationship between Lena and Lila. This writer has a ferocity and a depth that I've rarely encountered.
December 27, 2022
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丕{丕賳丕 賰賳鬲 丕賳丕
亘賷賳賲丕 賴賷 賱賲 鬲賰賳 鬲賵丿 丕賳 鬲賰賵賳 賴賷!!}丕
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毓賳 賱毓賳丞 丕賱賲賰丕賳 賵 丕賱夭賲丕賳..毓賳 匕賰乇賷丕鬲 賳夭賷賮賴丕 賱賳鬲丨賲賱 丕賲丕賰賳 賯亘賷丨丞 賵賳賴丕賷丕鬲 丕賰孬乇 賯亘丨丕. .毓賳 爻兀賲 丕賱毓賲乇 賵 孬賯賱賴..毓賳 丕乇孬 丿賲丕亍 賮丕爻丿丞 賳丨賰賷
孬賱丕孬丞賵孬賱丕孬賵賳 毓丕賲丕 鬲爻鬲毓乇囟賴賲 賮賷乇丕賳鬲賷 亘噩乇兀鬲賴丕 丕賱丌爻乇丞 賮賷 賲賱丨賲鬲賴丕 丕賱丕禺賷乇丞 毓賳 賱毓亘丞 丕賱賰乇丕爻賷 丕賱賲賵爻賷賯賷丞 毓賱賷 丕賱爻賷丕丿丞 亘賷賳 丕賱丕丨夭丕亘 賵 乇丕爻 丕賱賲丕賱 貨賵 亘賷賳 兀爻乇 匕賱賰 丕賱丨賷 丕賱丕賷胤丕賱賷 丕賱賲賱毓賵賳 丨賷孬 爻賷禺丿賲賰 賲賳 賰賳鬲 禺丕丿賲鬲賴賲 賮賷 丿賵乇丞 丕賱夭賲賳 丕賱賰丕賲賱丞
丕爻乇丞 丕禺賷賱 賰丕乇丕鬲卮賷
毓賳 鬲賱賰 丕賱丨丕乇丞 丕賱賳丕亘賵賱鬲丕賳賷丞 丕賱鬲賷 鬲爻丕賵賷 = 丕賱毓丕賱賲
毓賳 丕賵賱 噩賷賱 賲賳 丕賱賳爻丕亍 賷賮乇囟 毓賱賷賴 丕賱毓賲賱..毓賳 孬賵乇丞 丨亘賵亘 賲賳毓 丕賱丨賲賱 丕賱鬲賷 丨乇乇鬲 賳爻丕亍 賵 丕爻鬲毓亘丿鬲 丕禺乇賷丕鬲..毓賳 噩賷賱 賮賷 毓賲乇 兀賲賷 賵 賱賰賳 賱丿賴卮鬲賷 馗賴乇 賱賳丕 丕賳 丕賱賵噩毓 賵丕丨丿 賵 賳賯丕胤 丕賱囟毓賮 賳丨賲賱賴丕 毓賱賶 馗賴賵乇賳丕 毓亘乇 丕賱毓賯賵丿 賵 毓亘乇 丕賱賯丕乇丕鬲
毓賳 丕賱賳賵乇 丕賱匕賷 賳賮賯丿賴 賱賱丕亘丿 丕匕丕 睾乇賯賳丕 賮賷 賯丕毓 賲賳 賴賵 丕賯賱 賲賳丕
毓賳 賳丕亘賵賱賷 賵鬲丕乇賷禺 丕賱賱毓賳丞 丕賱賰丕賲賳丞 賮賷 爻賮賵丨 丕賱賮賷夭賵賮
賵 丕賱鬲賮爻禺 丕賱匕賷 鬲乇夭丨 鬲丨鬲賴 賲丐爻爻丞 夭賵丕噩 鬲賲 鬲丿賲賷乇賴丕 鬲賯乇賷亘丕 賮賷 丕賱賳氐賮 丕賱孬丕賳賷 賲賳 丕賱賯乇賳 丕賱毓卮乇賷賳
毓賳 丕賱賲丕賮賷丕 賵 鬲丨賰賲賴賲 賮賷 鬲賮丕氐賷賱 丕賱丨賷丕丞 賵 丕賱賲賵鬲 賵 丕賱賲乇囟 賵 丕賱鬲噩丕乇丞 賵 丕賱氐賳丕毓丞 賵 丕賱丕禺賱丕賯 賵 丕賱夭賷噩丕鬲 ..毓賳 丕賱氐丿賷賯 毓賳丿賲丕 賷鬲丨賵賱 賱毓丿賵..毓賳 賲賱丕卅賰丞 賷丿賮毓賵賳 賮丕鬲賵乇丞 噩賷賱 馗賱 賷丨賲賱 丕丨賯丕丿 氐亘丕賴 賰丕賱丨丿亘丞
毓賳 丕賱賰鬲丕亘丞 賵 鬲毓乇賷鬲賴丕 賱賱賰丕鬲亘 賵丕爻鬲賲乇丕乇賷鬲賴丕 賵 毓賱丕賯鬲賴丕 亘丕賱賰丕亘丞 賵 丕賱賷兀爻 賵 賯賷賲鬲賴丕 丕賱丨賯丞 賮賷 乇賮毓丞 丕賱賲噩鬲賲毓..毓賳 丕賱氐丿丕賯丞賵 丕賱丕賳賵孬丞 賵 丕賱乇噩賵賱丞 賵 賲丕 亘賷賳賴賲丕 ! 毓賳 丕賱丕賲賵賲丞賵 丕賱禺夭賶 賵 丕賱丿賵賳賷丞 賵 丕賱兀賮乇丕丨 丕賱賲噩賴囟丞 丿賵賲丕 鬲丨賰賷 賮賷乇丕賳鬲賷 亘賱睾丞 賲囟胤乇亘丞 賲丐賱賲丞 賲賰孬賮丞 丕賱賲卮丕毓乇 賮賷 爻乇丿 氐丕乇 賱睾夭丕 亘丨丿 匕丕鬲賴
亘賵丕賯毓賷鬲賴丕 丕賱賲賯賷鬲丞 丕賳丨丕夭鬲 賴賳丕 賱賱卮睾賮 毓賱賶 丨爻丕亘 丕賱丨亘.. 賵 賱賱賯亘丨 毓賱賶 丨爻丕亘 丕賱噩賲丕賱 賵 賱賱卮乇 毓賱賶 丨爻丕亘 丕賱禺賷乇 ..丨賲賱 丕賱噩夭亍 丕賱兀禺賷乇 兀爻賮丕乇 賳賴丕賷丕鬲 賲匕賴賱丞 噩毓賱鬲 賲賳 乇亘丕毓賷丞 賳丕亘賵賱賷 "毓乇丕亘"賱 丕賱賯乇賳 丕賱丨丕丿賶 賵 丕賱毓卮乇賷賳
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賳毓賲貨毓賱賷賳丕 丕賱丕 賳胤丕賱亘 亘丕賱賲爻鬲丨賷賱 賵 兀賳 賳賳毓賲 亘丕賱賲賲賰賳 賵
賱賰賳 賴賱 賲賳 丕賱賲賲賰賳 丕賳 賳噩丿 乇賵丕賷丞 丕禺乇賶 鬲卮禺氐 丕賵噩丕毓賳丕 賵 鬲胤賱賯 丕爻賲丕亍 毓賱賶 賲丕 賳毓丕賳賷賴 賵 鬲卮亘賴賳丕 丕賱賶 賴匕丕 丕賱丨丿 丕賱氐賮賷賯責
丕{丕賳丕 賰賳鬲 丕賳丕
亘賷賳賲丕 賴賷 賱賲 鬲賰賳 鬲賵丿 丕賳 鬲賰賵賳 賴賷!!}丕
賰賲 鬲賱禺氐賳賷 丕賱噩賲賱丞 丕賱丕禺賷乇丞 亘賮噩丕噩丞
丕賱乇睾亘丞 賮賷 丕賱賲丨賵 丕賱匕丕鬲賷 賵 丕賱禺賵賮 賲賳 鬲丨賱賱 丕賱兀胤乇丕賮 賴匕丕 賲丕 爻鬲賮賵夭 亘賴 丕匕丕 賰賳鬲 賲孬賱賷 丕賳丕 賵 賱賷賱丕 毓卮鬲 賲丨丕胤丕 亘兀賳胤丕毓 噩丕丨丿賷賳
丕賲丕 丕賱賵丨丿丞 丕賱睾囟賵亘丞 賮賴賷 賲氐賷乇賰 丕匕丕 馗賱賱鬲 賲鬲丕乇噩丨 丕賱賲賵賴亘丞 賲賳賯丕丿丕 賱賯賱亘賰 賲孬賱賷 兀賳丕 賵 丕賷賱賷賳丕
毓賳 賱毓賳丞 丕賱賲賰丕賳 賵 丕賱夭賲丕賳..毓賳 匕賰乇賷丕鬲 賳夭賷賮賴丕 賱賳鬲丨賲賱 丕賲丕賰賳 賯亘賷丨丞 賵賳賴丕賷丕鬲 丕賰孬乇 賯亘丨丕. .毓賳 爻兀賲 丕賱毓賲乇 賵 孬賯賱賴..毓賳 丕乇孬 丿賲丕亍 賮丕爻丿丞 賳丨賰賷
孬賱丕孬丞賵孬賱丕孬賵賳 毓丕賲丕 鬲爻鬲毓乇囟賴賲 賮賷乇丕賳鬲賷 亘噩乇兀鬲賴丕 丕賱丌爻乇丞 賮賷 賲賱丨賲鬲賴丕 丕賱丕禺賷乇丞 毓賳 賱毓亘丞 丕賱賰乇丕爻賷 丕賱賲賵爻賷賯賷丞 毓賱賷 丕賱爻賷丕丿丞 亘賷賳 丕賱丕丨夭丕亘 賵 乇丕爻 丕賱賲丕賱 貨賵 亘賷賳 兀爻乇 匕賱賰 丕賱丨賷 丕賱丕賷胤丕賱賷 丕賱賲賱毓賵賳 丨賷孬 爻賷禺丿賲賰 賲賳 賰賳鬲 禺丕丿賲鬲賴賲 賮賷 丿賵乇丞 丕賱夭賲賳 丕賱賰丕賲賱丞
丕爻乇丞 丕禺賷賱 賰丕乇丕鬲卮賷
毓賳 鬲賱賰 丕賱丨丕乇丞 丕賱賳丕亘賵賱鬲丕賳賷丞 丕賱鬲賷 鬲爻丕賵賷 = 丕賱毓丕賱賲
毓賳 丕賵賱 噩賷賱 賲賳 丕賱賳爻丕亍 賷賮乇囟 毓賱賷賴 丕賱毓賲賱..毓賳 孬賵乇丞 丨亘賵亘 賲賳毓 丕賱丨賲賱 丕賱鬲賷 丨乇乇鬲 賳爻丕亍 賵 丕爻鬲毓亘丿鬲 丕禺乇賷丕鬲..毓賳 噩賷賱 賮賷 毓賲乇 兀賲賷 賵 賱賰賳 賱丿賴卮鬲賷 馗賴乇 賱賳丕 丕賳 丕賱賵噩毓 賵丕丨丿 賵 賳賯丕胤 丕賱囟毓賮 賳丨賲賱賴丕 毓賱賶 馗賴賵乇賳丕 毓亘乇 丕賱毓賯賵丿 賵 毓亘乇 丕賱賯丕乇丕鬲
毓賳 丕賱賳賵乇 丕賱匕賷 賳賮賯丿賴 賱賱丕亘丿 丕匕丕 睾乇賯賳丕 賮賷 賯丕毓 賲賳 賴賵 丕賯賱 賲賳丕
毓賳 賳丕亘賵賱賷 賵鬲丕乇賷禺 丕賱賱毓賳丞 丕賱賰丕賲賳丞 賮賷 爻賮賵丨 丕賱賮賷夭賵賮
賵 丕賱鬲賮爻禺 丕賱匕賷 鬲乇夭丨 鬲丨鬲賴 賲丐爻爻丞 夭賵丕噩 鬲賲 鬲丿賲賷乇賴丕 鬲賯乇賷亘丕 賮賷 丕賱賳氐賮 丕賱孬丕賳賷 賲賳 丕賱賯乇賳 丕賱毓卮乇賷賳
毓賳 丕賱賲丕賮賷丕 賵 鬲丨賰賲賴賲 賮賷 鬲賮丕氐賷賱 丕賱丨賷丕丞 賵 丕賱賲賵鬲 賵 丕賱賲乇囟 賵 丕賱鬲噩丕乇丞 賵 丕賱氐賳丕毓丞 賵 丕賱丕禺賱丕賯 賵 丕賱夭賷噩丕鬲 ..毓賳 丕賱氐丿賷賯 毓賳丿賲丕 賷鬲丨賵賱 賱毓丿賵..毓賳 賲賱丕卅賰丞 賷丿賮毓賵賳 賮丕鬲賵乇丞 噩賷賱 馗賱 賷丨賲賱 丕丨賯丕丿 氐亘丕賴 賰丕賱丨丿亘丞
毓賳 丕賱賰鬲丕亘丞 賵 鬲毓乇賷鬲賴丕 賱賱賰丕鬲亘 賵丕爻鬲賲乇丕乇賷鬲賴丕 賵 毓賱丕賯鬲賴丕 亘丕賱賰丕亘丞 賵 丕賱賷兀爻 賵 賯賷賲鬲賴丕 丕賱丨賯丞 賮賷 乇賮毓丞 丕賱賲噩鬲賲毓..毓賳 丕賱氐丿丕賯丞賵 丕賱丕賳賵孬丞 賵 丕賱乇噩賵賱丞 賵 賲丕 亘賷賳賴賲丕 ! 毓賳 丕賱丕賲賵賲丞賵 丕賱禺夭賶 賵 丕賱丿賵賳賷丞 賵 丕賱兀賮乇丕丨 丕賱賲噩賴囟丞 丿賵賲丕 鬲丨賰賷 賮賷乇丕賳鬲賷 亘賱睾丞 賲囟胤乇亘丞 賲丐賱賲丞 賲賰孬賮丞 丕賱賲卮丕毓乇 賮賷 爻乇丿 氐丕乇 賱睾夭丕 亘丨丿 匕丕鬲賴
亘賵丕賯毓賷鬲賴丕 丕賱賲賯賷鬲丞 丕賳丨丕夭鬲 賴賳丕 賱賱卮睾賮 毓賱賶 丨爻丕亘 丕賱丨亘.. 賵 賱賱賯亘丨 毓賱賶 丨爻丕亘 丕賱噩賲丕賱 賵 賱賱卮乇 毓賱賶 丨爻丕亘 丕賱禺賷乇 ..丨賲賱 丕賱噩夭亍 丕賱兀禺賷乇 兀爻賮丕乇 賳賴丕賷丕鬲 賲匕賴賱丞 噩毓賱鬲 賲賳 乇亘丕毓賷丞 賳丕亘賵賱賷 "毓乇丕亘"賱 丕賱賯乇賳 丕賱丨丕丿賶 賵 丕賱毓卮乇賷賳
賮賷 丕賱噩夭亍 丕賱賲禺賮賷 賲賳 丕賱乇賷賮賷賵 鬲丨賱賷賱賷 丕賱賲鬲賵丕囟毓 賱賱卮禺氐賷丕鬲 丕賱乇卅賷爻賷丞
April 9, 2025
[From Celle qui fuit et celle qui reste]
Whenever you read a book that the author seriously cared about, you realise after a while that in fact it's two books: there's the book that got written, the one you're holding in your hands, and there's the other book, the one the author wanted to write but couldn't, due to the problems inherent in being a mortal human being. Sometimes the distance between the two books is close enough that you can believe they're the same. (I don't know how one would improve Candide or Alice in Wonderland; maybe Voltaire and Carroll did). But in other cases, it's clear that the two books are different. The authors of the New Testament would have liked to set down a clear and complete account of the life of Jesus Christ and the events it inspired, but, since the four Gospels contradict each other on numerous points, they must have fallen short of their ambition. For similar but slightly more complicated reasons, it seems that Plato's Dialogues also fail to report accurately the teachings of Socrates. Moving on to more recent cases, Wittgenstein famously apologised for not being able to write a better book than the Philosophical Investigations, which nonetheless is often cited as the twentieth century's most influential work of philosophy; and, a personal favorite, Jan Kj忙rstad's Jonas Wergeland trilogy gives you numerous clues about the nature of the true, ideal version of the book, and how it differs from the imperfect copy you have received.
I think Elena Ferrante's L'amica geniale also belongs to this distinguished club. On the surface, the novel is straightforward. It appears to be a minutely detailed, ultra-realistic account of the narrator's life, starting with her childhood in a poor quarter of Naples and showing how she becomes a famous author who, in particular, has written this book. The unifying theme, which gives the novel its title, is her friendship with Lila, a woman she has known since they were both small children. If you read it in this way, it's easy to see why it's often been compared to Knausg氓rd's Min kamp, another long and ostensibly autobiographical ultra-realistic novel. I did indeed start reading both Knausg氓rd and Ferrante from this obvious point of view, and I'm not trying to convince you that there's anything wrong with that. Perhaps both novels are just what they appear to be on the surface. But, at least from my perspective, they diverged more and more as they progressed. What Knausg氓rd wants to do, it seemed to me, is to show you how suspect the whole notion is of being a novelist. You take your life and the lives of the people around you, and you turn them into a story which you sell for money. There's a certain amount of this in Ferrante too, and some of the moral disgust that Knausg氓rd so effectively inspires. But I don't think that's the core of the book.
Knausg氓rd is, or at least pretends to be, an egotist, and his book is all about ego, and in interviews he sticks to the line that everything in it is true. But Ferrante has gone to great lengths to stay anonymous, and no one knows who she is. She drops hints in her novel, which contains numerous novels-within-the-novel, that at least some of it is true. Evidently the narrator, who's also called Elena and who also claims to have written the book, could to a certain extent be her. But it's also clear that Elena Greco can't be the same person as Elena Ferrante. And at the same time, she drops contradictory hints that the book may not really have been written by either Elena. Maybe it was written by Lila. But finally she denies this too.
The thing that makes the book so unusual is that it manages to keep the ambiguity between truth and fiction all the way through. We don't know if Elena really exists; all we know is that someone who calls herself Elena exists, that she wrote L'amica geniale, and that, in some unspecified way, it is inspired by real events. But more and more, one feels that the identity of the author is irrelevant. The important character isn't the vain, superficial, and not overly bright Elena. It's her friend Lila, who comes across as a truly admirable person; a person one could compare with Socrates, whom Plato says was, of all the men of his time he had known, "the wisest and justest and best". Lila is sometimes described in similar terms, by people who are surprised to hear themselves say it. Elena is ultimately disappointed with her novel, because she knows she has failed. She has lost Lila, and despite all her work she hasn't been able to tell us what she was really like.
Did Lila exist, in some sense? I assume we will never find out. But at least we have this account of her life, distorted and imperfect and incomplete as it is. It's a completely stunning achievement.
Whenever you read a book that the author seriously cared about, you realise after a while that in fact it's two books: there's the book that got written, the one you're holding in your hands, and there's the other book, the one the author wanted to write but couldn't, due to the problems inherent in being a mortal human being. Sometimes the distance between the two books is close enough that you can believe they're the same. (I don't know how one would improve Candide or Alice in Wonderland; maybe Voltaire and Carroll did). But in other cases, it's clear that the two books are different. The authors of the New Testament would have liked to set down a clear and complete account of the life of Jesus Christ and the events it inspired, but, since the four Gospels contradict each other on numerous points, they must have fallen short of their ambition. For similar but slightly more complicated reasons, it seems that Plato's Dialogues also fail to report accurately the teachings of Socrates. Moving on to more recent cases, Wittgenstein famously apologised for not being able to write a better book than the Philosophical Investigations, which nonetheless is often cited as the twentieth century's most influential work of philosophy; and, a personal favorite, Jan Kj忙rstad's Jonas Wergeland trilogy gives you numerous clues about the nature of the true, ideal version of the book, and how it differs from the imperfect copy you have received.
I think Elena Ferrante's L'amica geniale also belongs to this distinguished club. On the surface, the novel is straightforward. It appears to be a minutely detailed, ultra-realistic account of the narrator's life, starting with her childhood in a poor quarter of Naples and showing how she becomes a famous author who, in particular, has written this book. The unifying theme, which gives the novel its title, is her friendship with Lila, a woman she has known since they were both small children. If you read it in this way, it's easy to see why it's often been compared to Knausg氓rd's Min kamp, another long and ostensibly autobiographical ultra-realistic novel. I did indeed start reading both Knausg氓rd and Ferrante from this obvious point of view, and I'm not trying to convince you that there's anything wrong with that. Perhaps both novels are just what they appear to be on the surface. But, at least from my perspective, they diverged more and more as they progressed. What Knausg氓rd wants to do, it seemed to me, is to show you how suspect the whole notion is of being a novelist. You take your life and the lives of the people around you, and you turn them into a story which you sell for money. There's a certain amount of this in Ferrante too, and some of the moral disgust that Knausg氓rd so effectively inspires. But I don't think that's the core of the book.
Knausg氓rd is, or at least pretends to be, an egotist, and his book is all about ego, and in interviews he sticks to the line that everything in it is true. But Ferrante has gone to great lengths to stay anonymous, and no one knows who she is. She drops hints in her novel, which contains numerous novels-within-the-novel, that at least some of it is true. Evidently the narrator, who's also called Elena and who also claims to have written the book, could to a certain extent be her. But it's also clear that Elena Greco can't be the same person as Elena Ferrante. And at the same time, she drops contradictory hints that the book may not really have been written by either Elena. Maybe it was written by Lila. But finally she denies this too.
The thing that makes the book so unusual is that it manages to keep the ambiguity between truth and fiction all the way through. We don't know if Elena really exists; all we know is that someone who calls herself Elena exists, that she wrote L'amica geniale, and that, in some unspecified way, it is inspired by real events. But more and more, one feels that the identity of the author is irrelevant. The important character isn't the vain, superficial, and not overly bright Elena. It's her friend Lila, who comes across as a truly admirable person; a person one could compare with Socrates, whom Plato says was, of all the men of his time he had known, "the wisest and justest and best". Lila is sometimes described in similar terms, by people who are surprised to hear themselves say it. Elena is ultimately disappointed with her novel, because she knows she has failed. She has lost Lila, and despite all her work she hasn't been able to tell us what she was really like.
Did Lila exist, in some sense? I assume we will never find out. But at least we have this account of her life, distorted and imperfect and incomplete as it is. It's a completely stunning achievement.
February 15, 2020
[UPDATED - SEE BELOW]
I can't believe it's over! I mean really, after finishing Ferrante's riveting tetralogy, I feel a sense of loss. The fourth volume was fast-paced and full of reveals (no spoilers!). It was hard to read at several points, but always entertaining and thought provoking. If you have not read it yet, please do so this year. Definitely a journey to Naples that you do not want to miss.
One thing that struck me with this series is the similarities and differences with another classic story which crosses four decades in as many books: the Rabbit Tetralogy by John Updike. I have reviewed all four Rabbit books here in GR, but if you are not familiar with them, Updike follows Harry "Rabbit" Angstrom from the 50s to the 80s with one book per decade. The Ferrante series is similar even if the boundaries are not drawn as clearly between books as in Updike and covers roughly the same period as the Neapolitan series. Similarly, the character of Rabbit is deeply developed like that of Lena and Lila. Where Rabbit is quintessentially American in his own unique and depraved way, Lena and Lila are quintessentially Neapolitan. I think that rural Pennsylvania and metropolitan Naples are quite different geographically, but both serve as a evolving canvas backdrops upon which the central dramas play out. I just think that if you read the Updike books, you'd probably enjoy the Ferrante ones and vice versa in terms of a look a slice of life from the middle to the end of the 20th century seen on two different continents and from the perspective of the two sexes.
[SPOILER SECTION - STOP HERE OR BEWARE!]
I really enjoyed the allegory of the doll which brought the story full circle from the beginning of the relationship between Lena and Lila and was a beautiful reminder of that first wonderful book. Further, the disappearance of Tina (for which I enjoyed the ambiguity, almost dreamlike, in not knowing definitively her fate) was also a beautiful allegory for the lost innocence (and sanity to a degree?) of Lila and the loss of intimacy between here and Lena.
In all four books, it was wonderful to feel Naples like a character in the book (much like Paris in L'Education Sentimental). There are moments when you feel like you are overhearing Lena and Lila in a caf茅 or crossing them in a park. The city evolves around them in colors, smells, and great differences in wealth and power.
There is a Proustian feel to Ferrante's writing, although as one of my friends pointed out, the male characters (Enzo, Piero, Nino, etc) here are not as three-dimensional as the female characters (whereas in La Recherche, Odille, Gilberte, and Albertine are all much more profound). But still there is a nice on-ne-sais-quoi in her phrasing, her descriptions, and her unique female sensibility that lends a limpidity and beauty to her prose that is just so pleasurable to read.
I can't believe it's over! I mean really, after finishing Ferrante's riveting tetralogy, I feel a sense of loss. The fourth volume was fast-paced and full of reveals (no spoilers!). It was hard to read at several points, but always entertaining and thought provoking. If you have not read it yet, please do so this year. Definitely a journey to Naples that you do not want to miss.
One thing that struck me with this series is the similarities and differences with another classic story which crosses four decades in as many books: the Rabbit Tetralogy by John Updike. I have reviewed all four Rabbit books here in GR, but if you are not familiar with them, Updike follows Harry "Rabbit" Angstrom from the 50s to the 80s with one book per decade. The Ferrante series is similar even if the boundaries are not drawn as clearly between books as in Updike and covers roughly the same period as the Neapolitan series. Similarly, the character of Rabbit is deeply developed like that of Lena and Lila. Where Rabbit is quintessentially American in his own unique and depraved way, Lena and Lila are quintessentially Neapolitan. I think that rural Pennsylvania and metropolitan Naples are quite different geographically, but both serve as a evolving canvas backdrops upon which the central dramas play out. I just think that if you read the Updike books, you'd probably enjoy the Ferrante ones and vice versa in terms of a look a slice of life from the middle to the end of the 20th century seen on two different continents and from the perspective of the two sexes.
[SPOILER SECTION - STOP HERE OR BEWARE!]
I really enjoyed the allegory of the doll which brought the story full circle from the beginning of the relationship between Lena and Lila and was a beautiful reminder of that first wonderful book. Further, the disappearance of Tina (for which I enjoyed the ambiguity, almost dreamlike, in not knowing definitively her fate) was also a beautiful allegory for the lost innocence (and sanity to a degree?) of Lila and the loss of intimacy between here and Lena.
In all four books, it was wonderful to feel Naples like a character in the book (much like Paris in L'Education Sentimental). There are moments when you feel like you are overhearing Lena and Lila in a caf茅 or crossing them in a park. The city evolves around them in colors, smells, and great differences in wealth and power.
There is a Proustian feel to Ferrante's writing, although as one of my friends pointed out, the male characters (Enzo, Piero, Nino, etc) here are not as three-dimensional as the female characters (whereas in La Recherche, Odille, Gilberte, and Albertine are all much more profound). But still there is a nice on-ne-sais-quoi in her phrasing, her descriptions, and her unique female sensibility that lends a limpidity and beauty to her prose that is just so pleasurable to read.
August 25, 2016
Book Four....The Final Conclusion to the Neapolitan novels:
And so this story begins.....-[page 1]:
"From October 1976 until 1979, when I returned to Naples to live, I avoided resuming a steady relationship with Lila. But it wasn't easy. She almost immediately tried to reenter my life by force, and I ignored her, tolerated her, endured her. Even if she acted as if there were nothing she wanted more than to be close to me at a difficult moment, I couldn't forget the contempt with which she had treated me".
"Today I think that if it had been only the insult that wounded me 鈥� 鈥揧ou're an idiot,
she had shouted on the telephone when I told her about Nino, and she had never 'ever'
spoken to me like that before 鈥� 鈥� I would have soon calmed down. In reality, what mattered more than that offense was the mention of Dede and Elsa. Think of the harm you're doing to your daughters, she had warned me, and at that moment I had paid no attention. But over time those words acquired greater weight, and I returned to them often. Lila had never displayed the slightest interest in Dede and Elsa; almost certainly she didn't even remember their names. If, on the phone, I mentioned some intelligent remark they had made, she cut me off, changed the subject. And when she met them for the first time, at the house of Marcello Solara, she had confined herself to an
absentminded glance and a few pat phrases--she hadn't paid the least attention to how nicely they were dressed, and neatly their hair was combed, how well both were able to express themselves, although they were still small. And yet 'I' had given birth to them. 'I' I brought them up, they were part of me, who had been her friend forever: she should have taken this into account--I won't say out of affection but at least out of politeness 鈥� 鈥� for my maternal pride. Yet she hadn't even attempted a good-natured sarcasm; she had displayed indifference and nothing more. Only now--out of jealousy, surely, because I had taken Nino--did she remember the girls, and wanted to emphasize that I was a terrible mother, that although I was happy, I was causing them unhappiness. The minute I thought about it I became anxious. Had Lila worried about Gennaro when she left Stefano, when she abandoned the child to the neighbor because of her work in the factory, when she sent him to me as if to get him out of the way? Ah, I had my faults, but I was certainly more a mother and she was".
WOW.... Can you see how we might be for a ride for the next 473 pages?
Well, as much as I HAD THOUGHT I was going to be glad when I finished these 4 books.....
now, I'm not so sure. I'm sad! This 4th book broke my heart more than all three put together!
I can't help but wonder if other readers -'had/have' a long term friendship of 40 to 50 years. Any similarities to Elena and Lila? I also wonder what these stories might be like if Lila were the narrator.
Lisi and I met in 7th grade. Her real name is Ilyce. I went by my nickname, Liz in Jr. high school - and my real name is Elyse. Having similar names, with our school lockers back to back brought us together. An instant friendship it was. We are the same height, both Jewish--- but from very different types of families. Lisi introduced me to 欧宝娱乐. She was the reader as a child. Not me! The first time either one of us either had sex--- both late bloomers--- it was with the same guy! NOT AT THE SAME TIME!!! Me first- she later - a triangle messy drama -- which we survive with flying colors. Our friendship lasted longer than the guy. ( that's a very sad story:.he died)....
Lisi and I are still close friends -now in our 60's. Both of us have been married for approx 30 + years. Both have 2 daughters. Our husbands are good friends too....
Lisi and I have another friend- Renee. Renee was my closest friend - in a crazy - complex - deep way - more than with Lisi during our teen -growing years...
I spent most of my time with Renee. -- Long story....but after an almost 50 year friendship.....we aren't speaking today....(I quietly let her go- but maybe she had let me go years before I even noticed). Lisi and Renee are still in touch....
but .... I only have the memories we once shared....( over 40 years worth). I 'think' about our resuming our friendship often -- but it hasn't happened.
Woman's friendships may be the most complex relationships on the planet!!!!
My suggestion....( but it's only my opinion)....either read all 4 books -- or don't read any of them! I went into THE BINGE READERS CAVE......reading approx. 300+ pages a day - non -stop until I finished all 4 books - days and night. Took a few breaks, but not many.
Elena Ferrante....I think it's fair to say she's a great artist....an extremely gifted storyteller! Kinda a genius!
And so this story begins.....-[page 1]:
"From October 1976 until 1979, when I returned to Naples to live, I avoided resuming a steady relationship with Lila. But it wasn't easy. She almost immediately tried to reenter my life by force, and I ignored her, tolerated her, endured her. Even if she acted as if there were nothing she wanted more than to be close to me at a difficult moment, I couldn't forget the contempt with which she had treated me".
"Today I think that if it had been only the insult that wounded me 鈥� 鈥揧ou're an idiot,
she had shouted on the telephone when I told her about Nino, and she had never 'ever'
spoken to me like that before 鈥� 鈥� I would have soon calmed down. In reality, what mattered more than that offense was the mention of Dede and Elsa. Think of the harm you're doing to your daughters, she had warned me, and at that moment I had paid no attention. But over time those words acquired greater weight, and I returned to them often. Lila had never displayed the slightest interest in Dede and Elsa; almost certainly she didn't even remember their names. If, on the phone, I mentioned some intelligent remark they had made, she cut me off, changed the subject. And when she met them for the first time, at the house of Marcello Solara, she had confined herself to an
absentminded glance and a few pat phrases--she hadn't paid the least attention to how nicely they were dressed, and neatly their hair was combed, how well both were able to express themselves, although they were still small. And yet 'I' had given birth to them. 'I' I brought them up, they were part of me, who had been her friend forever: she should have taken this into account--I won't say out of affection but at least out of politeness 鈥� 鈥� for my maternal pride. Yet she hadn't even attempted a good-natured sarcasm; she had displayed indifference and nothing more. Only now--out of jealousy, surely, because I had taken Nino--did she remember the girls, and wanted to emphasize that I was a terrible mother, that although I was happy, I was causing them unhappiness. The minute I thought about it I became anxious. Had Lila worried about Gennaro when she left Stefano, when she abandoned the child to the neighbor because of her work in the factory, when she sent him to me as if to get him out of the way? Ah, I had my faults, but I was certainly more a mother and she was".
WOW.... Can you see how we might be for a ride for the next 473 pages?
Well, as much as I HAD THOUGHT I was going to be glad when I finished these 4 books.....
now, I'm not so sure. I'm sad! This 4th book broke my heart more than all three put together!
I can't help but wonder if other readers -'had/have' a long term friendship of 40 to 50 years. Any similarities to Elena and Lila? I also wonder what these stories might be like if Lila were the narrator.
Lisi and I met in 7th grade. Her real name is Ilyce. I went by my nickname, Liz in Jr. high school - and my real name is Elyse. Having similar names, with our school lockers back to back brought us together. An instant friendship it was. We are the same height, both Jewish--- but from very different types of families. Lisi introduced me to 欧宝娱乐. She was the reader as a child. Not me! The first time either one of us either had sex--- both late bloomers--- it was with the same guy! NOT AT THE SAME TIME!!! Me first- she later - a triangle messy drama -- which we survive with flying colors. Our friendship lasted longer than the guy. ( that's a very sad story:.he died)....
Lisi and I are still close friends -now in our 60's. Both of us have been married for approx 30 + years. Both have 2 daughters. Our husbands are good friends too....
Lisi and I have another friend- Renee. Renee was my closest friend - in a crazy - complex - deep way - more than with Lisi during our teen -growing years...
I spent most of my time with Renee. -- Long story....but after an almost 50 year friendship.....we aren't speaking today....(I quietly let her go- but maybe she had let me go years before I even noticed). Lisi and Renee are still in touch....
but .... I only have the memories we once shared....( over 40 years worth). I 'think' about our resuming our friendship often -- but it hasn't happened.
Woman's friendships may be the most complex relationships on the planet!!!!
My suggestion....( but it's only my opinion)....either read all 4 books -- or don't read any of them! I went into THE BINGE READERS CAVE......reading approx. 300+ pages a day - non -stop until I finished all 4 books - days and night. Took a few breaks, but not many.
Elena Ferrante....I think it's fair to say she's a great artist....an extremely gifted storyteller! Kinda a genius!
February 16, 2018
3.5 stars
"I鈥檝e been writing for too long, and I鈥檓 tired; it鈥檚 more and more difficult to keep the thread of the story taut within the chaos of the years, of events large and small, of moods. So either I tend to pass over my own affairs to recapture Lila and all the complications she brings with her or, worse, I let myself be carried away by the events of my life, only because it鈥檚 easier to write them."
Gosh, relationships - particularly those of the 鈥榞irlfriends鈥� variety - are quite complex, aren鈥檛 they? Never before have I ever read about a friendship in such microscopic and candid detail as that of Elena and Lila. Never before have I been forced to examine my own friendships with such excruciating rigor. I鈥檓 honestly worn out! Yet, this series will stay with me forever. Having started Book 1, My Brilliant Friend, over a year ago, I have finally made my way through to this last in the series. I know, you鈥檙e probably thinking it took me a rather long time to get through a relatively short series; after all, there are only four books total. Personally, there鈥檚 no way I could have devoured these books one after the other, although many did just that.
I鈥檝e reviewed the first three Neapolitan books, so I鈥檓 going to keep this relatively brief. Truly, the entire series feels like one long, epic novel, simply divided into four parts. Each builds on the previous installment in a linear fashion, therefore making it necessary to read them in order. I get the feeling that the entire collection is autobiographical in nature, although this last book has me really questioning exactly whose story is this 鈥� is it Elena鈥檚, as I originally assumed, or is this truly Lila鈥檚 story? It is written from Elena鈥檚 first person point of view. Her character is that of an author; she has the fame from her books, has travelled and is formally educated. Lila on the other hand never left Naples, never finished high school. She remained in the violent neighborhood of her childhood, yet acquiring her own large degree of influence and success. In one sense, I have a difficult time separating Lila from the city of Naples itself, maybe even from the volatile mass of Mount Vesuvius, towering over all, sometimes explosive, other times merely smoldering, but always present. In any case, Lila is a fascinating character. "However much she had always dominated all of us and had imposed and was still imposing a way of being, on pain of her resentment and her fury, she perceived herself as a liquid and all her efforts were, in the end, directed only at containing herself. When, in spite of her defensive manipulations of persons and things, the liquid prevailed, Lila lost Lila, chaos seemed the only truth, and she 鈥� so active, so courageous 鈥� erased herself and, terrified, became nothing."
This novel is not only about the strength of a friendship, despite its changeability, but also an intelligent and thought-provoking discourse about motherhood, marriage, feminism, and the craft of writing. How is a woman鈥檚 identity shaped by education, culture, and her relationships with her children, her parents, her spouses, her lovers and her friends? It鈥檚 a tribute to Naples as only Lila can voice so passionately: "鈥� what a splendid and important city: here all languages are spoken, here everything was built and everything torn down, here the people don鈥檛 trust talk and are very talkative, here is Vesuvius which reminds you every day that the greatest undertaking of powerful men, the most splendid work, can be reduced to nothing in a few seconds by the fire, and the earthquake, and the ash, and the sea."
Having closed the last page in The Story of the Lost Child, I have to make a small confession: I am relieved. I was overwhelmed by the time I reached the two-thirds point in this novel. It鈥檚 truly a mental exercise of Olympian proportions to examine in such detail the inner workings of a friendship to such length. You couldn鈥檛 pay me to do that with my own relationships 鈥� I may in the end have nothing left! Yet, I am quite pleased to have read these 鈥� Ferrante鈥檚 skill is indisputable.
"Unlike stories, real life, when it has passed, inclines toward obscurity, not clarity."
"I鈥檝e been writing for too long, and I鈥檓 tired; it鈥檚 more and more difficult to keep the thread of the story taut within the chaos of the years, of events large and small, of moods. So either I tend to pass over my own affairs to recapture Lila and all the complications she brings with her or, worse, I let myself be carried away by the events of my life, only because it鈥檚 easier to write them."
Gosh, relationships - particularly those of the 鈥榞irlfriends鈥� variety - are quite complex, aren鈥檛 they? Never before have I ever read about a friendship in such microscopic and candid detail as that of Elena and Lila. Never before have I been forced to examine my own friendships with such excruciating rigor. I鈥檓 honestly worn out! Yet, this series will stay with me forever. Having started Book 1, My Brilliant Friend, over a year ago, I have finally made my way through to this last in the series. I know, you鈥檙e probably thinking it took me a rather long time to get through a relatively short series; after all, there are only four books total. Personally, there鈥檚 no way I could have devoured these books one after the other, although many did just that.
I鈥檝e reviewed the first three Neapolitan books, so I鈥檓 going to keep this relatively brief. Truly, the entire series feels like one long, epic novel, simply divided into four parts. Each builds on the previous installment in a linear fashion, therefore making it necessary to read them in order. I get the feeling that the entire collection is autobiographical in nature, although this last book has me really questioning exactly whose story is this 鈥� is it Elena鈥檚, as I originally assumed, or is this truly Lila鈥檚 story? It is written from Elena鈥檚 first person point of view. Her character is that of an author; she has the fame from her books, has travelled and is formally educated. Lila on the other hand never left Naples, never finished high school. She remained in the violent neighborhood of her childhood, yet acquiring her own large degree of influence and success. In one sense, I have a difficult time separating Lila from the city of Naples itself, maybe even from the volatile mass of Mount Vesuvius, towering over all, sometimes explosive, other times merely smoldering, but always present. In any case, Lila is a fascinating character. "However much she had always dominated all of us and had imposed and was still imposing a way of being, on pain of her resentment and her fury, she perceived herself as a liquid and all her efforts were, in the end, directed only at containing herself. When, in spite of her defensive manipulations of persons and things, the liquid prevailed, Lila lost Lila, chaos seemed the only truth, and she 鈥� so active, so courageous 鈥� erased herself and, terrified, became nothing."
This novel is not only about the strength of a friendship, despite its changeability, but also an intelligent and thought-provoking discourse about motherhood, marriage, feminism, and the craft of writing. How is a woman鈥檚 identity shaped by education, culture, and her relationships with her children, her parents, her spouses, her lovers and her friends? It鈥檚 a tribute to Naples as only Lila can voice so passionately: "鈥� what a splendid and important city: here all languages are spoken, here everything was built and everything torn down, here the people don鈥檛 trust talk and are very talkative, here is Vesuvius which reminds you every day that the greatest undertaking of powerful men, the most splendid work, can be reduced to nothing in a few seconds by the fire, and the earthquake, and the ash, and the sea."
Having closed the last page in The Story of the Lost Child, I have to make a small confession: I am relieved. I was overwhelmed by the time I reached the two-thirds point in this novel. It鈥檚 truly a mental exercise of Olympian proportions to examine in such detail the inner workings of a friendship to such length. You couldn鈥檛 pay me to do that with my own relationships 鈥� I may in the end have nothing left! Yet, I am quite pleased to have read these 鈥� Ferrante鈥檚 skill is indisputable.
"Unlike stories, real life, when it has passed, inclines toward obscurity, not clarity."
March 31, 2025
*sobbing*
April 25, 2017
What can I say about this book that has yet to be said. This is the fourth and final book in The Neapolitan Novels. It is the culmination of the lifetime of two dominate, strong women. It is the story of one lost child and the impact it has on so many lives. But it's also so much more. It is the final story of many of the characters that lived in this town and came in and out of Lila and Elena lives.
I'm not sure how to feel about this one. On one hand, I'm happy to hear more of the story of these two women and all the wonderful characters in the neighborhood. But then, I'm sad as this is the final installment and I will no longer be able to hear more of them. Their life stories have been told. I will say, of all the books, this is my least favorite. Elena was so self-indulgent and selfish. She seems to thrive almost on the tension of her friendship with Lila. She seems obsessed about what Lila is doing and that she is better than Lila. Lila on the other hand, at times, I found her very mean. But is she stronger than Elena even though she has never left the neighborhood? I think through the love-hate relationship these two have, it pushes them to strive to find their better selves. And I would have thought by the fourth book I would remember who everyone is...but nope. There were times I still had to look someone up and figure out who they were. I also felt towards the end of the book, it seemed to move through 'life' rather quickly. All of sudden you got glimpses of things...Elena children/grandchildren, Lila's disappearance. I wanted more, I wanted the full details of the story.
This is a wonderful series of books that I would tell anyone to read. But be aware, there is murder, adultery, crime, death, drug abuse, violence within. After all these books, I still can't put my finger on why these books are so captivating. Perhaps it's the hope that this IS a true story, that it's based on real people. I listened to this entire series via audio narration and the narrator, Hillary Huber, is wonderful and gives life to these two amazing characters.
I'm not sure how to feel about this one. On one hand, I'm happy to hear more of the story of these two women and all the wonderful characters in the neighborhood. But then, I'm sad as this is the final installment and I will no longer be able to hear more of them. Their life stories have been told. I will say, of all the books, this is my least favorite. Elena was so self-indulgent and selfish. She seems to thrive almost on the tension of her friendship with Lila. She seems obsessed about what Lila is doing and that she is better than Lila. Lila on the other hand, at times, I found her very mean. But is she stronger than Elena even though she has never left the neighborhood? I think through the love-hate relationship these two have, it pushes them to strive to find their better selves. And I would have thought by the fourth book I would remember who everyone is...but nope. There were times I still had to look someone up and figure out who they were. I also felt towards the end of the book, it seemed to move through 'life' rather quickly. All of sudden you got glimpses of things...Elena children/grandchildren, Lila's disappearance. I wanted more, I wanted the full details of the story.
This is a wonderful series of books that I would tell anyone to read. But be aware, there is murder, adultery, crime, death, drug abuse, violence within. After all these books, I still can't put my finger on why these books are so captivating. Perhaps it's the hope that this IS a true story, that it's based on real people. I listened to this entire series via audio narration and the narrator, Hillary Huber, is wonderful and gives life to these two amazing characters.
July 13, 2022
This fourth and final book in The Neapolitan Novels was good, but not as good as the other three novels. In this book, the narrator Elena becomes a lot more reflective, and the story is more about her children and their struggles than it is about Elena's and Lila's friendship. I liked how this implies that Elena is growing up and starting to care more about the people around her, but at the same time this book just didn't click as well with me as the other ones.
Another reason why I think this is the case is that by the time you get to this book, you're very much into the characters and the poor surroundings of Naples, and what surprised you in the first couple of books doesn't really surprise you anymore with this one. That being said, I still really appreciated this conclusion to the series, and I like how Elena is able to wrap up things beautifully in the end. There's no question that Elena and Lila have made an impact on me which will stay with me for a long time to come.
Another reason why I think this is the case is that by the time you get to this book, you're very much into the characters and the poor surroundings of Naples, and what surprised you in the first couple of books doesn't really surprise you anymore with this one. That being said, I still really appreciated this conclusion to the series, and I like how Elena is able to wrap up things beautifully in the end. There's no question that Elena and Lila have made an impact on me which will stay with me for a long time to come.
March 31, 2020
3.5*
not the spectacular end that I wanted for this story, story became redundant and stale.
not the spectacular end that I wanted for this story, story became redundant and stale.
April 22, 2024
賴乇 丌賳趩賴 丕夭 蹖賴 賲噩賲賵毓賴 丕賳鬲馗丕乇 丿丕卮鬲賲 乇賵 賳丕倬賱 亘乇丌賵乇丿賴 讴乇丿. 丕賱賳丕 賮乇丕賳鬲賴貙 亘賴 蹖讴蹖 丕夭 賳賵蹖爻賳丿诏丕賳 賲丨亘賵亘 賵 丕賱賴丕賲鈥屫ㄘ促� 鬲亘丿蹖賱 卮丿 賵 賲蹖鈥屫堎嗁� 讴賴 丕夭 丕蹖賳 亘賴 亘毓丿貙 亘賴 卮賯丕蹖賯 亘賴鬲乇蹖 鬲亘丿蹖賱 賲蹖卮賲 (趩賵賳 噩賴丕賳鈥屫ㄛ屬嗃� 賲賳丨氐乇亘賴鈥屬佖必簇� 賲丨丕賱 賲賲讴賳 賴爻鬲 賲賳 乇賵 鬲睾蹖蹖乇 賳丿賴). 亘毓丿 丕夭 丿蹖丿賳 爻乇蹖丕賱 賵 賲乇賵乇 噩夭卅蹖丕鬲貙 丕夭卮 丨乇賮 賲蹖鈥屫操嗁�.
丕賲丕 丕蹖賳 賳賵卮鬲賴鈥屰� 鬲賯乇蹖亘丕 亘蹖鈥屬呚堌� 乇賵 賮毓賱丕 賳賵卮鬲賲 讴賴 丕诏賴 毓賲乇賲 賯丿 賳丿丕丿 鬲丕 乇蹖賵蹖賵 亘賳賵蹖爻賲貙 丕夭 丿賵 賳賮乇 鬲卮讴乇 讴賳賲. 丕夭 爻丕乇丕 讴賴 亘丕毓孬 卮丿 讴鬲丕亘鈥屬囏� 乇賵 亘禺乇賲 賵 丕毓鬲賲丕丿 亘賴 爻賱蹖賯賴鈥屫ж簇� 賲賵噩亘丕鬲 卮丕丿賲丕賳蹖 乇賵丨賲 乇賵 倬丿蹖丿 丌賵乇丿. 賵 丕夭 毓賱蹖 讴賴 亘丕 倬蹖卮賳賴丕丿 賴賲禺賵丕賳蹖貙 鬲噩乇亘賴鈥屰� 蹖賴 爻賮乇 禺丕胤乇賴鈥屫з嗂屫� 乇賵 亘乇丕賲 亘賴 丕乇賲睾丕賳 丌賵乇丿. 丨賯蹖賯鬲丕 丕夭 胤賵賱丕賳蹖鈥屫臂屬� 賵 賱匕鬲鈥屫ㄘ粹€屫臂屬� 賴賲禺賵丕賳蹖鈥屬囏й� 丕禺蹖乇賲 賲丨爻賵亘 賲蹖鈥屫簇� 賵 倬蹖卮賳賴丕丿 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁� 讴賴 亘丕 噩賳爻 賲禺丕賱賮鬲賵賳貙 倬丕 亘賴 賲丕噩乇丕噩賵蹖蹖鈥屬囏й� 賱賳賵 賵 賱蹖鈥屬勜� 亘匕丕乇蹖丿 (鬲乇噩蹖丨丕 丌丿賲 賮賴賲蹖丿賴 賵 賲賳胤賯蹖 乇賵 丿乇 賳馗乇 亘诏蹖乇蹖丿 鬲丕 倬乇賵爻賴 禺賵丕賳卮 讴賵賮鬲 賳卮賴).
丕夭 鬲乇噩賲賴鈥屰� 賲噩賲賵毓賴 賴賲 乇丕囟蹖 亘賵丿賲貨 丕賱亘鬲賴 噩丕 丿丕卮鬲 讴賴 倬丕賳賵蹖爻鈥屬囏й� 亘蹖卮鬲乇蹖 賴賲 丿乇卮 賲蹖鈥屭嗀堎嗀� 鬲丕 亘賴鬲乇 丕夭 丌亘 丿乇賲蹖鈥屫з堎呚� (賲禺氐賵氐丕 丿乇亘丕乇賴 賵賯丕蹖毓 鬲丕乇蹖禺蹖-爻蹖丕爻蹖).
賵 讴賱丕賲 丌禺乇賲 丕蹖賳 賴爻鬲 讴賴 亘賴 禺賵丿鬲賵賳 賱胤賮 讴賳蹖丿 賵 亘禺賵賳蹖丿. 丕诏乇趩賴 賲賲讴賳 賴爻鬲 亘禺丕胤乇 賯囟丕賵鬲鈥屬囏й� 亘賴 卮丿鬲 爻胤丨蹖貙 讴鬲丕亘 乇賵 夭乇丿 鬲賱賯蹖 讴賳蹖丿 丕賲丕 丕诏賴 毓賲賯 賲丕噩乇丕 乇賵 丿乇讴 讴賳蹖丿貙 倬鬲丕賳爻蹖賱 鬲亘丿蹖賱鈥屫簇� 亘賴 鬲噩丕乇亘 賲賵賳丿诏丕乇鬲賵賳 乇賵 丿丕乇賴.
丕賲丕 丕蹖賳 賳賵卮鬲賴鈥屰� 鬲賯乇蹖亘丕 亘蹖鈥屬呚堌� 乇賵 賮毓賱丕 賳賵卮鬲賲 讴賴 丕诏賴 毓賲乇賲 賯丿 賳丿丕丿 鬲丕 乇蹖賵蹖賵 亘賳賵蹖爻賲貙 丕夭 丿賵 賳賮乇 鬲卮讴乇 讴賳賲. 丕夭 爻丕乇丕 讴賴 亘丕毓孬 卮丿 讴鬲丕亘鈥屬囏� 乇賵 亘禺乇賲 賵 丕毓鬲賲丕丿 亘賴 爻賱蹖賯賴鈥屫ж簇� 賲賵噩亘丕鬲 卮丕丿賲丕賳蹖 乇賵丨賲 乇賵 倬丿蹖丿 丌賵乇丿. 賵 丕夭 毓賱蹖 讴賴 亘丕 倬蹖卮賳賴丕丿 賴賲禺賵丕賳蹖貙 鬲噩乇亘賴鈥屰� 蹖賴 爻賮乇 禺丕胤乇賴鈥屫з嗂屫� 乇賵 亘乇丕賲 亘賴 丕乇賲睾丕賳 丌賵乇丿. 丨賯蹖賯鬲丕 丕夭 胤賵賱丕賳蹖鈥屫臂屬� 賵 賱匕鬲鈥屫ㄘ粹€屫臂屬� 賴賲禺賵丕賳蹖鈥屬囏й� 丕禺蹖乇賲 賲丨爻賵亘 賲蹖鈥屫簇� 賵 倬蹖卮賳賴丕丿 賲蹖鈥屭┵嗁� 讴賴 亘丕 噩賳爻 賲禺丕賱賮鬲賵賳貙 倬丕 亘賴 賲丕噩乇丕噩賵蹖蹖鈥屬囏й� 賱賳賵 賵 賱蹖鈥屬勜� 亘匕丕乇蹖丿 (鬲乇噩蹖丨丕 丌丿賲 賮賴賲蹖丿賴 賵 賲賳胤賯蹖 乇賵 丿乇 賳馗乇 亘诏蹖乇蹖丿 鬲丕 倬乇賵爻賴 禺賵丕賳卮 讴賵賮鬲 賳卮賴).
丕夭 鬲乇噩賲賴鈥屰� 賲噩賲賵毓賴 賴賲 乇丕囟蹖 亘賵丿賲貨 丕賱亘鬲賴 噩丕 丿丕卮鬲 讴賴 倬丕賳賵蹖爻鈥屬囏й� 亘蹖卮鬲乇蹖 賴賲 丿乇卮 賲蹖鈥屭嗀堎嗀� 鬲丕 亘賴鬲乇 丕夭 丌亘 丿乇賲蹖鈥屫з堎呚� (賲禺氐賵氐丕 丿乇亘丕乇賴 賵賯丕蹖毓 鬲丕乇蹖禺蹖-爻蹖丕爻蹖).
賵 讴賱丕賲 丌禺乇賲 丕蹖賳 賴爻鬲 讴賴 亘賴 禺賵丿鬲賵賳 賱胤賮 讴賳蹖丿 賵 亘禺賵賳蹖丿. 丕诏乇趩賴 賲賲讴賳 賴爻鬲 亘禺丕胤乇 賯囟丕賵鬲鈥屬囏й� 亘賴 卮丿鬲 爻胤丨蹖貙 讴鬲丕亘 乇賵 夭乇丿 鬲賱賯蹖 讴賳蹖丿 丕賲丕 丕诏賴 毓賲賯 賲丕噩乇丕 乇賵 丿乇讴 讴賳蹖丿貙 倬鬲丕賳爻蹖賱 鬲亘丿蹖賱鈥屫簇� 亘賴 鬲噩丕乇亘 賲賵賳丿诏丕乇鬲賵賳 乇賵 丿丕乇賴.
April 4, 2018
This review originally appeared on my blog, .
I鈥檝e been writing for too long, and I鈥檓 tired; it鈥檚 more and more difficult to keep the thread of the story taut within the chaos of the years, of events large and small, of moods鈥hat to do then? Admit yet again that she is right? Accept that to be adult is to disappear, is to learn to hide to the point of vanishing?
It鈥檚 been a few weeks, but I鈥檓 finally able to deal with this. This is the last novel in Elena Ferrante鈥檚 celebrated Neapolitan series. We鈥檝e followed Lila and Elena from their barefoot girlhood in the tattered, broken courtyards of 1950s Naples to the period of dolce vita, that was only ever dolce for a select few (these girls only glimpsed its crumbs and its outskirts and found it terrifying), to the late 1960s and 1970s as they matured into wives and mothers and workers amidst gangs and class warfare and quasi-intellectual circles, socialist and violent communist politics and the awakening of feminism. They鈥檝e made it to the 1980s now, carrying pieces of all of these things with them, jumbled up inside their heads and poking out at odd angles- as tends to happen when you鈥檙e carrying a suitcase with far too much inside that you haven鈥檛 quite figured out how to empty yet. 鈥淢ade it鈥� is really the key word here- as perhaps is the case with most people who make it to old age with any honesty and consciousness of what they鈥檝e done. This book feels like the last gasp of someone who really wants to give up and say the hell with it- but can see the top of the mountain- and almost wishes she couldn鈥檛, almost wishes that she had some excuse to sit down forever.
Elena and Lila are no longer girls in any sense of the word- they have lived what would have been even just a few decades earlier the better part of their lives. But that doesn鈥檛 mean anything real has changed, not really. Elena and Lila, in this novel, find themselves quite literally back where they started- back in that courtyard, still tied to each other more than anyone else. They still run and yell and hide on the stairways- the same stairways where they hid from the mysterious, supposedly monstrous Don Achille are now the same stairways where they now hide from their husbands, ex-husbands, ex-lovers, brothers, fathers, mothers, children- and, most heartbreakingly, from each other. They have become the monsters that sit at the end of the stairs.
There鈥檚 so much to talk about here, but for me, I can only talk about it by dealing with the main relationships of the novels, which, after all, are the only reason these stories exist at all. I鈥檝e said before that the class-based insecurity and despair of these novels breaks my heart, and this was the final throwing up of the hands, the final ironic laugh. This is the story of how the cycle of poverty wins, nearly every time, even with those who spend their whole lives trying to escape it. Usually not with a bang, but with a thousand small, seemingly reasonable compromises, a million little cuts, a hundred 鈥淲ell, why don鈥檛 you just鈥�.?鈥�, a veritable boatload of, 鈥淲ell, why does it matter so much anyway? Who do you think you are?鈥�-s. It鈥檚 no coincidence that Elena鈥檚 relationship with her working-class mother, which powerfully haunted the background of the first novel and was a major motor of Elena鈥檚 drive to escape (no less powerful, in her way, than Lila, though often much less acknowledged) flings itself to the forefront of this one. She is that mother we all watched after the Ferguson protests, the one who beat her child publicly after discovering him participating in them, which was shared by some other mothers in a startlingly positive way, (which got less startling the more you thought about it).
Elena is brought down, punished, berated, and endlessly shamed for the crime of being successful enough to forget that she is not allowed to be human in the way that people who are born to the sort of status she has earned are human:
And yet in my memory that place-name, Montpellier, has for many reasons remained a symbol of escape. I had been out of Italy once, in Paris, with Franco, and I had felt exhilarated by my own audacity. But then it seemed to me that my world was and would forever remain the neighborhood in Naples, while the rest was like a brief outing in whose special climate I could imagine myself but never in fact be. Montpellier, on the other hand, although it was far less exciting than Paris, gave me the impression hat my boundaries had burst and I was expanding鈥t was marvelous to cross borders, to let oneself go within other cultures, discover the provisional nature of what I had taken for absolute.
Well how dare she, that uppity hussy. She forgot that she is not just a status-earning, status-protecting machine whose job is to be a repository of that status until she can pass it on to her children who are born to it, and therefore will never know anything else. The intellectual freedom, the grace and elegance, the ability to feel free, was once something that she genuinely craved and yearned towards- and is now the new set of chains she has made for herself once she discovers that those things will not save her. Her mother is there to beat every thought of self-actualizing out of her. It鈥檚 something that is not a part of her universe, something her mother has never been able to afford and something it enrages her that her daughter thinks she can afford. It is a harsh, but deeply understandable picture of a love between a mother and daughter who have never quite understood each other, and who have, actually, been each others' greatest fear in many ways.
What鈥檚 interesting is that other than one or two major through lines, this was a rather disjointed work. It covers more time than all the other books put together- it contains the reasons that this had to be written to begin with, and so had to be so. But it reads like a set of impressions from here and there that Elena finds so much harder to recall than the stories she tells from when she was nine until her mid thirties. I was surprised, after the immersive nature of the first volumes, how easily I slipped in and out of this one, largely due to this device- I am used to following Elena around and evidence of her older life has crept in, the closer she got to it. It is clear that she is older now, someone who has been a writer, a journalist, an editor, a manager, a mother, and that therefore it is hard to simply live in a genuine way without watching yourself and the events of your life with one of those hats on. Especially when she is purely talking about herself, especially after the mother of he she deals with herself with an irritable flick of the wrist.
It takes Lila to get her going again. Where is their friendship now? Lila has come up in the circle of fortune, at least in the first part of the book. She finally occupies the place that Elena has always seen her occupying- which read like a clear rebuke to the idea that Lila never needed Elena the way that Elena seemed to need her. But while Elena will never think Lila is less important, or less powerful in any way, by this point in her life she is able to see vulnerabilities in her that would never have occurred to her younger self (think back to the first and second book when we can see so many moments when Lila is scared, confused and vulnerable but Elena has no idea- that time they鈥檙e sexually harassed on the street, when she marries the former ganglord鈥檚 son to avoid having to marry the children of the current ganglord, that time Elena brings Lila-poor and separated and working at a sausage factory-her childhood story, full of hope that this will reignite the Lila she knew and Lila throws it on the fire). Elena is finally put in positions where she has to deal with a Lila whose weakness scares her, saddens her, and frightens her. It is something that has been hinted at before, in the narrative third person, but not something we鈥檝e ever seen. In the midst of an earthquake that they both survive, pregnant together, Lila tells her what its like living inside of her head where everything has dissolving boundaries:
An object lost its edges and poured into another, into a solution of heterogeneous materials, a merging and mixing. She exclaimed that she had always had to struggle to believe that life had firm boundaries, for she had known since she was a child that it was absolutely not like that 鈥� and so she couldn鈥檛 trust in their resistance to being banged and bumped.
Elena has lived her whole life bumping up against the rules and finding them more solid than ever. The end of her life seems like one long confirmation that she has been breaking rules and that she should be punished for it- Lila has always lived understanding that everything is a construct and can easily become something else. She is scared of the impermanence of that, had accordingly, has hunkered down more and more tightly in the muck and mire of their Naples neighborhood, surrounding herself with all the rules and chains and barriers she can find- and still can鈥檛 seem to help but break the rules every day. Elena sees the place as a nightmare of inevitability, Lila as a bastion of stability that will keep her head screwed on straight- something that she unfortunately feels necessary to teach herself, being born where and when she was born. In this book, in their late 鈥渕aturity鈥�, then, both their childhoods finally end. Elena鈥檚 dies when she sees Lila鈥檚 inner struggles for the first time. Lila鈥檚 is done after Elena finds herself in the painful position of having to end her innocence, and, it seems, the basis of the friendship powered so many of her choices for more than thirty or forty years. The main event of the novel, for which it is named, ends up feeling like an emotional afterthought, something inevitable that proves the final end of the innocence that this book details.
What does this say, in the end, about friendship? It would be tempting to think that it seems to leave us in despair and darkness, showing us what not letting go can lead us to, the damage that retaining your girlhood, however subliminally, will wreak on your brain.
But that would be to forget the frame- to forget the woman we were introduced to in the first few pages of My Brilliant Friend who was told about how Lila disappeared and who seemed so tired, almost irritated, to be interrupted- and who then sat down and wrote for what must have been days, weeks, months, everything about her that she鈥檒l never forget. Who still, at the end, seems to be trying to fulfill Lila鈥檚 faith in her, the faith that she broke, that she no doubt blames for what happened to her in some sense- and use her writing as a kind of black magic to conjure her up again... with just the sort of power that she and Lila always imagined that words had.
So perhaps they didn鈥檛 destroy each other in the end. Perhaps it is, after all, a story about how friends preserve the best of us, the things that are the most precious and real, even when we quite literally disappear on them. Friends freeze us in time and allow us to time-travel, and make us part of themselves. Now, as we鈥檝e seen, we know that this isn鈥檛 always a positive effect- but it is, in the most lasting of friendships, forever. It is that rock that Lila always sought and couldn鈥檛 believe existed. We build ourselves out of our friends at the times when we are the most malleable and they can never be removed- whether it is them or our illusion of them- they鈥檙e not going anywhere. Lila and Elena, more than anyone else in their lives, dreamed each other into being. I skipped a part in that quote that I put up at the beginning, a part where Elena pauses to talk to herself while she is writing, re-setting and justifying her approach to her story:
I鈥檝e been writing for too long, and I鈥檓 tired; it鈥檚 more and more difficult to keep the thread of the story taut within the chaos of the years, of events large and small, of moods. So either I tend to pass over my own affairs to recapture Lila and all the complications she brings with her or, worse, I let myself by carried away by the events of my life, only because it鈥檚 easier to write them. But I have to avoid this choice. I mustn鈥檛 take the first path, on which, if I set myself aside- I would end up finding ever fewer traces of Lila- since the very nature of our relationship dictate that I can reach her only by passing through myself.
But I shouldn鈥檛 take the second, either. That, in fact, I speak of my experience in increasingly greater detail is just what she would certainly favor. Come on- she would say- tell us what turn your life took, who cares about mine, admit that it doesn鈥檛 even interest you. And she would conclude: I鈥檓 a scribble on a scribble, completely unsuitable for one of your books; forget it, Lenu, one doesn鈥檛 tell the story of an erasure. What to do then? Admit yet again that she is right? Accept that to be adult is to disappear, is to learn to hide to the point of vanishing? Admit that, as the years pass, the less I know of Lila?
This whole book says NO as loudly as possible, it says no like a child who is denying the reality of the no while realizing sooner or later that she will need to confront it, realizing that it is there and angry about it, deflecting that anger onto everything around her, and it is only admitted at the very last.
I won鈥檛 reveal what Ferrante decides the end of Lila and Elena鈥檚 story is (if it is an end), but I will say that I believe that she agrees with me that whatever these women did to each other over the years, she doesn鈥檛 believe they destroyed each other. They made each other, for better or worse. And that (ALL of that- every last ugly, sad, joyous, nostalgic part of it) is what friendship is.
Don鈥檛 you agree?
I鈥檝e been writing for too long, and I鈥檓 tired; it鈥檚 more and more difficult to keep the thread of the story taut within the chaos of the years, of events large and small, of moods鈥hat to do then? Admit yet again that she is right? Accept that to be adult is to disappear, is to learn to hide to the point of vanishing?
It鈥檚 been a few weeks, but I鈥檓 finally able to deal with this. This is the last novel in Elena Ferrante鈥檚 celebrated Neapolitan series. We鈥檝e followed Lila and Elena from their barefoot girlhood in the tattered, broken courtyards of 1950s Naples to the period of dolce vita, that was only ever dolce for a select few (these girls only glimpsed its crumbs and its outskirts and found it terrifying), to the late 1960s and 1970s as they matured into wives and mothers and workers amidst gangs and class warfare and quasi-intellectual circles, socialist and violent communist politics and the awakening of feminism. They鈥檝e made it to the 1980s now, carrying pieces of all of these things with them, jumbled up inside their heads and poking out at odd angles- as tends to happen when you鈥檙e carrying a suitcase with far too much inside that you haven鈥檛 quite figured out how to empty yet. 鈥淢ade it鈥� is really the key word here- as perhaps is the case with most people who make it to old age with any honesty and consciousness of what they鈥檝e done. This book feels like the last gasp of someone who really wants to give up and say the hell with it- but can see the top of the mountain- and almost wishes she couldn鈥檛, almost wishes that she had some excuse to sit down forever.
Elena and Lila are no longer girls in any sense of the word- they have lived what would have been even just a few decades earlier the better part of their lives. But that doesn鈥檛 mean anything real has changed, not really. Elena and Lila, in this novel, find themselves quite literally back where they started- back in that courtyard, still tied to each other more than anyone else. They still run and yell and hide on the stairways- the same stairways where they hid from the mysterious, supposedly monstrous Don Achille are now the same stairways where they now hide from their husbands, ex-husbands, ex-lovers, brothers, fathers, mothers, children- and, most heartbreakingly, from each other. They have become the monsters that sit at the end of the stairs.
There鈥檚 so much to talk about here, but for me, I can only talk about it by dealing with the main relationships of the novels, which, after all, are the only reason these stories exist at all. I鈥檝e said before that the class-based insecurity and despair of these novels breaks my heart, and this was the final throwing up of the hands, the final ironic laugh. This is the story of how the cycle of poverty wins, nearly every time, even with those who spend their whole lives trying to escape it. Usually not with a bang, but with a thousand small, seemingly reasonable compromises, a million little cuts, a hundred 鈥淲ell, why don鈥檛 you just鈥�.?鈥�, a veritable boatload of, 鈥淲ell, why does it matter so much anyway? Who do you think you are?鈥�-s. It鈥檚 no coincidence that Elena鈥檚 relationship with her working-class mother, which powerfully haunted the background of the first novel and was a major motor of Elena鈥檚 drive to escape (no less powerful, in her way, than Lila, though often much less acknowledged) flings itself to the forefront of this one. She is that mother we all watched after the Ferguson protests, the one who beat her child publicly after discovering him participating in them, which was shared by some other mothers in a startlingly positive way, (which got less startling the more you thought about it).
Elena is brought down, punished, berated, and endlessly shamed for the crime of being successful enough to forget that she is not allowed to be human in the way that people who are born to the sort of status she has earned are human:
And yet in my memory that place-name, Montpellier, has for many reasons remained a symbol of escape. I had been out of Italy once, in Paris, with Franco, and I had felt exhilarated by my own audacity. But then it seemed to me that my world was and would forever remain the neighborhood in Naples, while the rest was like a brief outing in whose special climate I could imagine myself but never in fact be. Montpellier, on the other hand, although it was far less exciting than Paris, gave me the impression hat my boundaries had burst and I was expanding鈥t was marvelous to cross borders, to let oneself go within other cultures, discover the provisional nature of what I had taken for absolute.
Well how dare she, that uppity hussy. She forgot that she is not just a status-earning, status-protecting machine whose job is to be a repository of that status until she can pass it on to her children who are born to it, and therefore will never know anything else. The intellectual freedom, the grace and elegance, the ability to feel free, was once something that she genuinely craved and yearned towards- and is now the new set of chains she has made for herself once she discovers that those things will not save her. Her mother is there to beat every thought of self-actualizing out of her. It鈥檚 something that is not a part of her universe, something her mother has never been able to afford and something it enrages her that her daughter thinks she can afford. It is a harsh, but deeply understandable picture of a love between a mother and daughter who have never quite understood each other, and who have, actually, been each others' greatest fear in many ways.
What鈥檚 interesting is that other than one or two major through lines, this was a rather disjointed work. It covers more time than all the other books put together- it contains the reasons that this had to be written to begin with, and so had to be so. But it reads like a set of impressions from here and there that Elena finds so much harder to recall than the stories she tells from when she was nine until her mid thirties. I was surprised, after the immersive nature of the first volumes, how easily I slipped in and out of this one, largely due to this device- I am used to following Elena around and evidence of her older life has crept in, the closer she got to it. It is clear that she is older now, someone who has been a writer, a journalist, an editor, a manager, a mother, and that therefore it is hard to simply live in a genuine way without watching yourself and the events of your life with one of those hats on. Especially when she is purely talking about herself, especially after the mother of he she deals with herself with an irritable flick of the wrist.
It takes Lila to get her going again. Where is their friendship now? Lila has come up in the circle of fortune, at least in the first part of the book. She finally occupies the place that Elena has always seen her occupying- which read like a clear rebuke to the idea that Lila never needed Elena the way that Elena seemed to need her. But while Elena will never think Lila is less important, or less powerful in any way, by this point in her life she is able to see vulnerabilities in her that would never have occurred to her younger self (think back to the first and second book when we can see so many moments when Lila is scared, confused and vulnerable but Elena has no idea- that time they鈥檙e sexually harassed on the street, when she marries the former ganglord鈥檚 son to avoid having to marry the children of the current ganglord, that time Elena brings Lila-poor and separated and working at a sausage factory-her childhood story, full of hope that this will reignite the Lila she knew and Lila throws it on the fire). Elena is finally put in positions where she has to deal with a Lila whose weakness scares her, saddens her, and frightens her. It is something that has been hinted at before, in the narrative third person, but not something we鈥檝e ever seen. In the midst of an earthquake that they both survive, pregnant together, Lila tells her what its like living inside of her head where everything has dissolving boundaries:
An object lost its edges and poured into another, into a solution of heterogeneous materials, a merging and mixing. She exclaimed that she had always had to struggle to believe that life had firm boundaries, for she had known since she was a child that it was absolutely not like that 鈥� and so she couldn鈥檛 trust in their resistance to being banged and bumped.
Elena has lived her whole life bumping up against the rules and finding them more solid than ever. The end of her life seems like one long confirmation that she has been breaking rules and that she should be punished for it- Lila has always lived understanding that everything is a construct and can easily become something else. She is scared of the impermanence of that, had accordingly, has hunkered down more and more tightly in the muck and mire of their Naples neighborhood, surrounding herself with all the rules and chains and barriers she can find- and still can鈥檛 seem to help but break the rules every day. Elena sees the place as a nightmare of inevitability, Lila as a bastion of stability that will keep her head screwed on straight- something that she unfortunately feels necessary to teach herself, being born where and when she was born. In this book, in their late 鈥渕aturity鈥�, then, both their childhoods finally end. Elena鈥檚 dies when she sees Lila鈥檚 inner struggles for the first time. Lila鈥檚 is done after Elena finds herself in the painful position of having to end her innocence, and, it seems, the basis of the friendship powered so many of her choices for more than thirty or forty years. The main event of the novel, for which it is named, ends up feeling like an emotional afterthought, something inevitable that proves the final end of the innocence that this book details.
What does this say, in the end, about friendship? It would be tempting to think that it seems to leave us in despair and darkness, showing us what not letting go can lead us to, the damage that retaining your girlhood, however subliminally, will wreak on your brain.
But that would be to forget the frame- to forget the woman we were introduced to in the first few pages of My Brilliant Friend who was told about how Lila disappeared and who seemed so tired, almost irritated, to be interrupted- and who then sat down and wrote for what must have been days, weeks, months, everything about her that she鈥檒l never forget. Who still, at the end, seems to be trying to fulfill Lila鈥檚 faith in her, the faith that she broke, that she no doubt blames for what happened to her in some sense- and use her writing as a kind of black magic to conjure her up again... with just the sort of power that she and Lila always imagined that words had.
So perhaps they didn鈥檛 destroy each other in the end. Perhaps it is, after all, a story about how friends preserve the best of us, the things that are the most precious and real, even when we quite literally disappear on them. Friends freeze us in time and allow us to time-travel, and make us part of themselves. Now, as we鈥檝e seen, we know that this isn鈥檛 always a positive effect- but it is, in the most lasting of friendships, forever. It is that rock that Lila always sought and couldn鈥檛 believe existed. We build ourselves out of our friends at the times when we are the most malleable and they can never be removed- whether it is them or our illusion of them- they鈥檙e not going anywhere. Lila and Elena, more than anyone else in their lives, dreamed each other into being. I skipped a part in that quote that I put up at the beginning, a part where Elena pauses to talk to herself while she is writing, re-setting and justifying her approach to her story:
I鈥檝e been writing for too long, and I鈥檓 tired; it鈥檚 more and more difficult to keep the thread of the story taut within the chaos of the years, of events large and small, of moods. So either I tend to pass over my own affairs to recapture Lila and all the complications she brings with her or, worse, I let myself by carried away by the events of my life, only because it鈥檚 easier to write them. But I have to avoid this choice. I mustn鈥檛 take the first path, on which, if I set myself aside- I would end up finding ever fewer traces of Lila- since the very nature of our relationship dictate that I can reach her only by passing through myself.
But I shouldn鈥檛 take the second, either. That, in fact, I speak of my experience in increasingly greater detail is just what she would certainly favor. Come on- she would say- tell us what turn your life took, who cares about mine, admit that it doesn鈥檛 even interest you. And she would conclude: I鈥檓 a scribble on a scribble, completely unsuitable for one of your books; forget it, Lenu, one doesn鈥檛 tell the story of an erasure. What to do then? Admit yet again that she is right? Accept that to be adult is to disappear, is to learn to hide to the point of vanishing? Admit that, as the years pass, the less I know of Lila?
This whole book says NO as loudly as possible, it says no like a child who is denying the reality of the no while realizing sooner or later that she will need to confront it, realizing that it is there and angry about it, deflecting that anger onto everything around her, and it is only admitted at the very last.
I won鈥檛 reveal what Ferrante decides the end of Lila and Elena鈥檚 story is (if it is an end), but I will say that I believe that she agrees with me that whatever these women did to each other over the years, she doesn鈥檛 believe they destroyed each other. They made each other, for better or worse. And that (ALL of that- every last ugly, sad, joyous, nostalgic part of it) is what friendship is.
Don鈥檛 you agree?
July 31, 2022
Brutally honest and detailed family saga has come to an end and it was as brilliant as the whole story. If you've read previous book you already know what to expect and still will be thrilled.
September 15, 2024
NINO SARRATORE OMME E'MMERD.
Elena Ferrante ti giuro che scoprir貌 chi sei solo per portarti il conto della mia psicologa.
Elena Ferrante ti giuro che scoprir貌 chi sei solo per portarti il conto della mia psicologa.
July 23, 2023
i鈥檓 devastated that the series is over, but also so grateful that i was able to experience the literary masterpiece of the neapolitan novels. i hope one day i can write a proper review of the series, but no review could really do these four books justice - you simply just have to experience them for yourself. i鈥檓 truly going to miss reading about these characters and their story. i already can鈥檛 wait to revisit it in the future. lila and len霉 will stay with me for a long time.
September 12, 2015
This is a two part review of the Neapolitan Novels as a whole: one about how good they are, the other about the series' very deep flaws. The other review, about how good they are can be found here.
I am, I realize, pissing into the wind here, but someone has to do it. Ferrante deserves much of the praise, but, like any serious author, she also deserves criticism, because these are some deeply, deeply flawed novels.
In Story of the Lost Child, Elena publishes an MS that she'd written some years before; Lila was unimpressed, so she'd just shoved it in a drawer. Now, her editor is very impressed, because she's given him something he didn't expect from her: pure, narrative pleasure. And it must be said that Ferrante is capable of delivering that, just as Elena was.
The problems start when you pay even a little attention to the narrative machinery groaning under the two thousand pages of the novel. Consider one of the major scenes in Story, when Lila and Elena are (again) arguing. This is a bad argument, a very bad one, and just as it reaches its climax, an earthquake strikes, destroying much of the city.
Really? Yes, really, Naples has been hit by earthquakes. But conjoining an earthquake with (another) personal disagreement between the protagonists of your novel is i) insensitive and disrespectful to the quake's victims, and ii) the kind of narrative move that Hollywood film makers dismiss as 'too obvious.'
This is one of the two major flaws in these novels: they are, far too often, ridiculously melodramatic. Leaving aside the earthquake argument, Story in particular devolves into bad country song territory, as everything that could possibly go wrong does go wrong, and all the meta-narrative "unlike in fiction, in real life things just happen, you can't predict them, there isn't always a reason for bad things" stuff at the end, constantly torturing your characters for no reason isn't real life, it's bad art. There are only so many times someone can be interested to learn that a man is unfaithful, or a thug, or a woman is mentally unstable, or unfaithful. How many arguments can two friends have before an onlooker realizes that there isn't anything new in any given argument? Not 2000 pages worth of arguments, that's how many.
This repetitiveness also works at the sentence level, where Ferrante, for some reason, has chosen to make 19th century novels look like masterworks of concision. The arguments and incidents of unfaithfulness would be much more striking, I imagine, if they were narrated with a bit more panache; instead, we get the proverbial "I went out shopping, I bought the groceries, here's how I bought them, I had this conversation with the counter woman, we laughed, we talked about person y, I walked home, it was raining, but it was a pleasant day for all that, I opened the door, I put away the groceries, I made myself a cup of coffee, I went to the bathroom where I found my partner schtupping the cleaning woman, I ran out of the bathroom, I went to my friend's house, we had a bottle of wine, I cried because I was sad, then we made dinner, we had pasta and some bread, it was nice, I was sad so I cried, then I went for a walk..." ad infinitum.
In nuce: things could have been done more quickly, and more effectively, not just in the melodramatic moments, but throughout the novel. This constant attention to minor, irrelevant details can't but bring Knausgaard's Struggle to mind (I, too, grow weary of the comparison). Because nothing much happens in Kok's books, his shopping for and frying a piece of fish don't get in the way of anything. Of course, that nothing much happens really is a pretty major flaw in his books, and, like Ferrante, he often descends into melodrama.
The most interesting comparison, though, is between the prose styles (NB: I don't read Italian at all well, or Norwegian at all, so this means "styles as mediated by their respective translators", which might not be accurate). While both narrate far too much, it's somehow more off putting in Ferrante because Elena's style is so classically controlled. Knausgaard is free to wheel off into all kinds of baroque bathos, whereas the clear style of the Neapolitan Novels makes it very hard to tell the difference between, e.g., doing the shopping on the one hand, and finding your partner in flagrante with someone else, on the other. For any given 400 page volume, that's fine, I like clarity, and I can roll with it. For 2000 pages, however, Elena's style is like an extremely rational jackhammer, and I hope very much that Ferrante's example doesn't influence other writers.
The other reason to compare them is that they're both being feted as novel or interesting or sophisticated, when in fact they are none of those things. Instead, they are ambitious and entertaining. This is a conjunction almost unheard of in the English-speaking reading republic, and I suspect that critics have let their surprise get the better of them. Both projects are worth reading, both are enjoyable, both are ambitious--but what they're doing has certainly been done before, what they're doing will probably be considered interesting in a period-piece way, rather than in an artistic or intellectual way, and their apparent sophistication is the result of both of them disclaiming any wish to be sophisticated.
I'm glad to have both of them, and it is not their fault that the English speaking world doesn't have better critics.
I am, I realize, pissing into the wind here, but someone has to do it. Ferrante deserves much of the praise, but, like any serious author, she also deserves criticism, because these are some deeply, deeply flawed novels.
In Story of the Lost Child, Elena publishes an MS that she'd written some years before; Lila was unimpressed, so she'd just shoved it in a drawer. Now, her editor is very impressed, because she's given him something he didn't expect from her: pure, narrative pleasure. And it must be said that Ferrante is capable of delivering that, just as Elena was.
The problems start when you pay even a little attention to the narrative machinery groaning under the two thousand pages of the novel. Consider one of the major scenes in Story, when Lila and Elena are (again) arguing. This is a bad argument, a very bad one, and just as it reaches its climax, an earthquake strikes, destroying much of the city.
Really? Yes, really, Naples has been hit by earthquakes. But conjoining an earthquake with (another) personal disagreement between the protagonists of your novel is i) insensitive and disrespectful to the quake's victims, and ii) the kind of narrative move that Hollywood film makers dismiss as 'too obvious.'
This is one of the two major flaws in these novels: they are, far too often, ridiculously melodramatic. Leaving aside the earthquake argument, Story in particular devolves into bad country song territory, as everything that could possibly go wrong does go wrong, and all the meta-narrative "unlike in fiction, in real life things just happen, you can't predict them, there isn't always a reason for bad things" stuff at the end, constantly torturing your characters for no reason isn't real life, it's bad art. There are only so many times someone can be interested to learn that a man is unfaithful, or a thug, or a woman is mentally unstable, or unfaithful. How many arguments can two friends have before an onlooker realizes that there isn't anything new in any given argument? Not 2000 pages worth of arguments, that's how many.
This repetitiveness also works at the sentence level, where Ferrante, for some reason, has chosen to make 19th century novels look like masterworks of concision. The arguments and incidents of unfaithfulness would be much more striking, I imagine, if they were narrated with a bit more panache; instead, we get the proverbial "I went out shopping, I bought the groceries, here's how I bought them, I had this conversation with the counter woman, we laughed, we talked about person y, I walked home, it was raining, but it was a pleasant day for all that, I opened the door, I put away the groceries, I made myself a cup of coffee, I went to the bathroom where I found my partner schtupping the cleaning woman, I ran out of the bathroom, I went to my friend's house, we had a bottle of wine, I cried because I was sad, then we made dinner, we had pasta and some bread, it was nice, I was sad so I cried, then I went for a walk..." ad infinitum.
In nuce: things could have been done more quickly, and more effectively, not just in the melodramatic moments, but throughout the novel. This constant attention to minor, irrelevant details can't but bring Knausgaard's Struggle to mind (I, too, grow weary of the comparison). Because nothing much happens in Kok's books, his shopping for and frying a piece of fish don't get in the way of anything. Of course, that nothing much happens really is a pretty major flaw in his books, and, like Ferrante, he often descends into melodrama.
The most interesting comparison, though, is between the prose styles (NB: I don't read Italian at all well, or Norwegian at all, so this means "styles as mediated by their respective translators", which might not be accurate). While both narrate far too much, it's somehow more off putting in Ferrante because Elena's style is so classically controlled. Knausgaard is free to wheel off into all kinds of baroque bathos, whereas the clear style of the Neapolitan Novels makes it very hard to tell the difference between, e.g., doing the shopping on the one hand, and finding your partner in flagrante with someone else, on the other. For any given 400 page volume, that's fine, I like clarity, and I can roll with it. For 2000 pages, however, Elena's style is like an extremely rational jackhammer, and I hope very much that Ferrante's example doesn't influence other writers.
The other reason to compare them is that they're both being feted as novel or interesting or sophisticated, when in fact they are none of those things. Instead, they are ambitious and entertaining. This is a conjunction almost unheard of in the English-speaking reading republic, and I suspect that critics have let their surprise get the better of them. Both projects are worth reading, both are enjoyable, both are ambitious--but what they're doing has certainly been done before, what they're doing will probably be considered interesting in a period-piece way, rather than in an artistic or intellectual way, and their apparent sophistication is the result of both of them disclaiming any wish to be sophisticated.
I'm glad to have both of them, and it is not their fault that the English speaking world doesn't have better critics.
September 26, 2018
賷丕 賲毓卮乇 丕賱賯乇丕亍 : 兀賵噩丿賵丕 賱賳丕 丨賱丕賸 賮賷 鬲賱賰 丕賱乇賵丕賷丕鬲 丕賱鬲賷 鬲爻賰賳賳丕 賵 賳爻賰賳賴丕 貙 孬賲 鬲睾丕丿乇賳丕 賵 賱丕 賳爻鬲胤賷毓 賲睾丕丿乇鬲賴丕 ..
賮賴丕鬲丕賳 丕賱氐丿賷賯鬲丕賳 丕賱賲匕賴賱鬲丕賳 貙 丕賱賲賳爻噩賲鬲丕賳 毓賱賶 丕賱乇睾賲 賲賳 兀賳賾 廿丨丿丕賴賲丕 賳賯賷囟 丕賱兀禺乇賶 貙 丕賱賲鬲亘丕毓丿鬲丕賳 賮賷 賰賱 卮賷亍 賵 丕賱賲鬲賰丕鬲賮丕賳 賮賷 丕賱丌賳 匕丕鬲賴 貙 丕賱賱鬲丕賳 (賵 毓賱賶 賲丿賶 兀乇亘毓 乇賵丕賷丕鬲) 鬲鬲亘毓鬲 丨賷丕鬲賷賴賲丕 賲賳 丨賷賺賾 廿賱賶 丨賷賾 賵 賲賳 賲丿賷賳丞 廿賱賶 兀禺乇賶 ....
兀賯賵賱 賴丕鬲賷賳 丕賱氐丿賷賯鬲賷賳 賯丿 爻丿鬲丕 亘丕亘 丕賱丨賰丕賷丞 禺賱賮賷 賵 鬲乇賰鬲丕賳賷 兀鬲噩賲丿 丕睾鬲乇丕亘丕賸 賮賷 氐賯賷毓 丕賱賵丕賯毓 .
亘賱丕 卮賰 賴匕丕 丕賱噩夭亍 賴賵 丕賱兀賰孬賮 賵 丕賱兀毓賳賮 賵 丕賱兀睾夭乇 毓丕胤賮丞賸 賵 兀丨丿丕孬丕賸 貙 賮賯丿 賰賳鬲 兀賯乇兀 賵 兀卮毓乇 兀賳賷 兀賱賴孬 賮賰乇賷丕賸 賮賷 鬲鬲亘毓 丕賱兀丨丿丕孬 貙 丕賱丨丿孬 丕賱賲丿賵賷 鬲賱賵 丕賱丌禺乇 ..
賮賴賳丕 毓丕丿鬲 賱賷賳賵 貙 賵 賴賳丕 孬丕乇 亘乇賰丕賳 丕賱賮賷夭賵賮 貙 賵 賴賳丕 禺丕賳 賳賷賳賵 貙 賵 賴賳丕 賯購鬲賱 丕賱兀禺賵丕賳 爻賵賱丕乇丕 貙 賵 賴賳丕 禺購胤賮鬲 鬲賷賳丕 貙 賵 賴賳丕 丕賳鬲丨乇 賮乇丕賳賰賵 貙 賵 賴賳丕 丕禺鬲賮鬲 賱賷賱賾丕 貙 賵 賴賳丕 賵 賴賳丕 賵 賴賳丕 ...
丨丿 兀賳賳賷 賰賳鬲 兀鬲賵賯賮 賰賱 丨賷賳 賵 兀乇丿丿 : 賲丕 丕賱匕賷 鬲賮毓賱賷賳賴 亘賷 賷丕 賮賷乇丕賳鬲賷 責!
兀孬賳丕亍 賯乇丕亍鬲賷 賱賲 兀爻鬲胤毓 兀賳 兀亘毓丿 毓賳 匕賴賳賷 賴匕丕 丕賱丕賯鬲亘丕爻 丕賱匕賷 兀賵乇丿鬲賴 賮賷乇丕賳鬲賷 賮賷 丕賱噩夭亍 丕賱孬丕賱孬 (丕賱賴丕乇亘賵賳 賵 丕賱亘丕賯賵賳) :
賱爻賳丕 爻賵賶 爻賱爻賱丞 賲賳 馗賱丕賱 鬲馗賴乇 賮賷 丕賱賲卮賴丿 丿賵賲丕賸 賲卮丨賵賳丞賸 亘丕賱賯丿乇 匕丕鬲賴 賲賳 丕賱丨亘 賵 丕賱丨賯丿 賵 丕賱乇睾亘丕鬲 賵 兀爻丕賱賷亘 丕賱毓賳賮 ..
賵 亘丕賱胤亘毓 貙 賱賲 兀爻鬲胤毓 賲賳毓 賳賮爻賷 賲賳 廿噩乇丕亍 廿爻賯丕胤丕鬲 賲賳 兀丨丿丕孬 丕賱兀噩夭丕亍 丕賱賲丕囟賷丞 毓賱賶 兀丨丿丕孬 賴匕丕 丕賱噩夭亍 貙 賱賰賳 丕賱乇賵毓丞 賰賱 丕賱乇賵毓丞 賮賷 賴匕賴 丕賱賳賴丕賷丞 丕賱睾乇丕卅亘賷丞 賵 丕賱鬲賷 賰丕賳鬲 丕賱鬲丨丕賲 亘賷賳 丿賱丕賱丕鬲 丕賱丨丕囟乇 賵 匕賰乇賷丕鬲 丕賱賲丕囟賷 ..
賮賲賳 賰丕賳 賱賷禺賲賳 兀賳 "鬲賷賳丕 賵 賳賵" 丿賲賷鬲丕 丕賱胤賮賵賱丞 丕賱亘毓賷丿丞 賵 兀賵賱賶 匕賰乇賷丕鬲 丕賱噩夭亍 丕賱兀賵賱 爻賷乇爻賲丕賳 賲賱丕賲丨 丕賱丨賰丕賷丞 賵 禺賵丕鬲賷賲 丕賱兀卮賷丕亍 責責
賮賷 賳馗乇賷 貙 鬲賰賲賳 賯賵丞 丕賱乇亘丕毓賷丞 賮賷 兀爻賱賵亘 賮賷乇丕賳鬲賷 丕賱睾丕賲囟 賵 丕賱匕賷 賱丕 兀氐賮賴 爻賵賶 亘丕賱丨賲丕爻丞 丕賱賴丕丿卅丞 賵 丕賱兀賳丕賯丞 丕賱睾賵睾丕卅賷丞 貙 賵 賮賷 賯丿乇鬲賴丕 毓賱賶 廿賷賱丕噩賰 丕賱丨賰丕賷丞 賵 噩毓賱賰 鬲卮毓乇 兀賳賰 賱丕 鬲賱丕丨賯 丕賱氐丿賷賯鬲賷賳 賲賳 氐賮丨丕鬲 丕賱賰鬲亘 賵 丨爻亘 賵 廿賳賲丕 賲賳 兀夭賯丞 丕賱丨賷 丕賱賳丕亘賵賱賷鬲丕賳賷 賳賮爻賴 .
賮賴丕鬲丕賳 丕賱氐丿賷賯鬲丕賳 丕賱賲匕賴賱鬲丕賳 貙 丕賱賲賳爻噩賲鬲丕賳 毓賱賶 丕賱乇睾賲 賲賳 兀賳賾 廿丨丿丕賴賲丕 賳賯賷囟 丕賱兀禺乇賶 貙 丕賱賲鬲亘丕毓丿鬲丕賳 賮賷 賰賱 卮賷亍 賵 丕賱賲鬲賰丕鬲賮丕賳 賮賷 丕賱丌賳 匕丕鬲賴 貙 丕賱賱鬲丕賳 (賵 毓賱賶 賲丿賶 兀乇亘毓 乇賵丕賷丕鬲) 鬲鬲亘毓鬲 丨賷丕鬲賷賴賲丕 賲賳 丨賷賺賾 廿賱賶 丨賷賾 賵 賲賳 賲丿賷賳丞 廿賱賶 兀禺乇賶 ....
兀賯賵賱 賴丕鬲賷賳 丕賱氐丿賷賯鬲賷賳 賯丿 爻丿鬲丕 亘丕亘 丕賱丨賰丕賷丞 禺賱賮賷 賵 鬲乇賰鬲丕賳賷 兀鬲噩賲丿 丕睾鬲乇丕亘丕賸 賮賷 氐賯賷毓 丕賱賵丕賯毓 .
亘賱丕 卮賰 賴匕丕 丕賱噩夭亍 賴賵 丕賱兀賰孬賮 賵 丕賱兀毓賳賮 賵 丕賱兀睾夭乇 毓丕胤賮丞賸 賵 兀丨丿丕孬丕賸 貙 賮賯丿 賰賳鬲 兀賯乇兀 賵 兀卮毓乇 兀賳賷 兀賱賴孬 賮賰乇賷丕賸 賮賷 鬲鬲亘毓 丕賱兀丨丿丕孬 貙 丕賱丨丿孬 丕賱賲丿賵賷 鬲賱賵 丕賱丌禺乇 ..
賮賴賳丕 毓丕丿鬲 賱賷賳賵 貙 賵 賴賳丕 孬丕乇 亘乇賰丕賳 丕賱賮賷夭賵賮 貙 賵 賴賳丕 禺丕賳 賳賷賳賵 貙 賵 賴賳丕 賯購鬲賱 丕賱兀禺賵丕賳 爻賵賱丕乇丕 貙 賵 賴賳丕 禺購胤賮鬲 鬲賷賳丕 貙 賵 賴賳丕 丕賳鬲丨乇 賮乇丕賳賰賵 貙 賵 賴賳丕 丕禺鬲賮鬲 賱賷賱賾丕 貙 賵 賴賳丕 賵 賴賳丕 賵 賴賳丕 ...
丨丿 兀賳賳賷 賰賳鬲 兀鬲賵賯賮 賰賱 丨賷賳 賵 兀乇丿丿 : 賲丕 丕賱匕賷 鬲賮毓賱賷賳賴 亘賷 賷丕 賮賷乇丕賳鬲賷 責!
兀孬賳丕亍 賯乇丕亍鬲賷 賱賲 兀爻鬲胤毓 兀賳 兀亘毓丿 毓賳 匕賴賳賷 賴匕丕 丕賱丕賯鬲亘丕爻 丕賱匕賷 兀賵乇丿鬲賴 賮賷乇丕賳鬲賷 賮賷 丕賱噩夭亍 丕賱孬丕賱孬 (丕賱賴丕乇亘賵賳 賵 丕賱亘丕賯賵賳) :
賱爻賳丕 爻賵賶 爻賱爻賱丞 賲賳 馗賱丕賱 鬲馗賴乇 賮賷 丕賱賲卮賴丿 丿賵賲丕賸 賲卮丨賵賳丞賸 亘丕賱賯丿乇 匕丕鬲賴 賲賳 丕賱丨亘 賵 丕賱丨賯丿 賵 丕賱乇睾亘丕鬲 賵 兀爻丕賱賷亘 丕賱毓賳賮 ..
賵 亘丕賱胤亘毓 貙 賱賲 兀爻鬲胤毓 賲賳毓 賳賮爻賷 賲賳 廿噩乇丕亍 廿爻賯丕胤丕鬲 賲賳 兀丨丿丕孬 丕賱兀噩夭丕亍 丕賱賲丕囟賷丞 毓賱賶 兀丨丿丕孬 賴匕丕 丕賱噩夭亍 貙 賱賰賳 丕賱乇賵毓丞 賰賱 丕賱乇賵毓丞 賮賷 賴匕賴 丕賱賳賴丕賷丞 丕賱睾乇丕卅亘賷丞 賵 丕賱鬲賷 賰丕賳鬲 丕賱鬲丨丕賲 亘賷賳 丿賱丕賱丕鬲 丕賱丨丕囟乇 賵 匕賰乇賷丕鬲 丕賱賲丕囟賷 ..
賮賲賳 賰丕賳 賱賷禺賲賳 兀賳 "鬲賷賳丕 賵 賳賵" 丿賲賷鬲丕 丕賱胤賮賵賱丞 丕賱亘毓賷丿丞 賵 兀賵賱賶 匕賰乇賷丕鬲 丕賱噩夭亍 丕賱兀賵賱 爻賷乇爻賲丕賳 賲賱丕賲丨 丕賱丨賰丕賷丞 賵 禺賵丕鬲賷賲 丕賱兀卮賷丕亍 責責
賮賷 賳馗乇賷 貙 鬲賰賲賳 賯賵丞 丕賱乇亘丕毓賷丞 賮賷 兀爻賱賵亘 賮賷乇丕賳鬲賷 丕賱睾丕賲囟 賵 丕賱匕賷 賱丕 兀氐賮賴 爻賵賶 亘丕賱丨賲丕爻丞 丕賱賴丕丿卅丞 賵 丕賱兀賳丕賯丞 丕賱睾賵睾丕卅賷丞 貙 賵 賮賷 賯丿乇鬲賴丕 毓賱賶 廿賷賱丕噩賰 丕賱丨賰丕賷丞 賵 噩毓賱賰 鬲卮毓乇 兀賳賰 賱丕 鬲賱丕丨賯 丕賱氐丿賷賯鬲賷賳 賲賳 氐賮丨丕鬲 丕賱賰鬲亘 賵 丨爻亘 賵 廿賳賲丕 賲賳 兀夭賯丞 丕賱丨賷 丕賱賳丕亘賵賱賷鬲丕賳賷 賳賮爻賴 .
April 28, 2019
賳丨賳 兀爻乇賶 賲丕囟賷賳丕
賱丕 兀賸氐丿賯 兀賳 賴匕丕 丌禺乇 賲丕 爻兀賯賵賱賴 亘丨賯 賱賷賳丕 賵賱賷賱丕 賵兀賳 丕賱乇丨賱丞 丕賱乇丕卅毓丞 亘氐丨亘丞 爻賷丿丞 丕賱噩賵丿乇賷丿夭 丕賱兀賵賱賶 賳賷乇丞 丨爻賳 賵丕賱賱賷丿賶 乇丨賲丞 賵丕賱賱賷丿賶 廿爻乇丕亍 丕賳鬲賴鬲 亘丕賱賮毓賱貙 兀卮毓乇 丕賱丌賳 亘卮毓賵乇 賮賯丿 乇賴賷亘 兀賳賳賶 賱賳 兀賱鬲賯賶 賲乇丞 丕禺乇賶 亘賱賷賳丕 賵賱賷賱丕 賮賶 丕賱毓丕卮乇 賲賳 丕賱卮賴乇 丕賱賯丕丿賲 賵賱賰賳 毓夭丕卅賶 丕賱賵丨賷丿 兀賳賳丕 爻賳賱鬲賯賶 亘廿匕賳 丕賱賱賴 賮賶 丕賱毓丕卮乇 賲賳 賷賵賳賷賵 賲毓 爻賱爻賱丞 噩丿賷丿丞 賲賳 丕禺鬲賷丕乇 爻賷丿丞 丕賱噩賵丿乇賷丿夭 丕賱兀賵賱賶.
廿賷賱賷賳丕 睾乇賷賰賵
賯賲丞 丕賱禺賷亘丞 賵丕賱囟賷丕毓 兀賳 鬲亘賳賶 亘賷丿賰 賲賲賱賰鬲賰 賵鬲爻鬲賰孬乇賴丕 - 兀賵 賷爻鬲賰孬乇賴丕 兀丨丿賴賲 毓賱賷賰 - 毓賱賶 賳賮爻賰 賮鬲賯乇乇 兀賳 鬲賴丿賲賴丕 賮賵賯 乇兀爻賰 賲亘丕卮乇丞.
丕亘賳丞 亘賵丕亘 丕賱亘賱丿賷丞 丕賱賮鬲丕丞 丕賱賲購噩鬲賴丿丞 丕賱鬲賶 丨丕賵賱鬲 兀賳 鬲鬲賮賵賯 毓賱賶 夭賲賷賱鬲賴丕 丕賱兀匕賰賶 亘丕賱賲孬丕亘乇丞 賵丕賱毓賲賱 賵丕賱丕噩鬲賴丕丿 賮兀賰賲賱鬲 丿乇丕爻鬲賴丕 賵鬲賮賵賯鬲 賵丕賱鬲丨賯鬲 亘丕賱噩丕賲毓丞 賵鬲禺乇噩鬲 賲賳賴丕 賵丕賯鬲丨賲鬲 賲噩丕賱 丕賱賰鬲丕亘丞 賵丨賯賯鬲 亘賴 賳噩丕丨丕賸 亘丕賴乇丕賸 兀賳噩亘鬲 賲賳 丕賱兀亘賳丕亍 孬賱丕孬丞 亘賳丕鬲 鬲賮賵賯賳 賵丕爻鬲賰賲賱賳 丿乇丕爻鬲賴賳貙 丨鬲賶 丕賱丌賳 鬲亘丿賵 丨賷丕丞 賱賷賳丕 丨賱賯丞 胤賵賷賱丞 賲賳 丕賱丕噩鬲賴丕丿 賵丕賱噩丿 丕賱賲購賰賱賱 亘丕賱賳噩丕丨 賵丕賱鬲賮賵賯.
賱賰賳 賴賱 鬲禺賷賱鬲 賷賵賲丕賸 兀賳 鬲氐賳毓 賰毓賰丞 噩賲賷賱丞 亘毓丿 氐亘乇 賵毓賳丕亍 賵鬲賰丕賱賷賮 賲丕賱賷丞 賵賮賶 賱丨馗丞 鬲賯乇乇 兀賳 鬲丿賴爻 賴匕賴 丕賱賰毓賰丞 鬲丨鬲 兀賯丿丕賲賰 兀賵 鬲鬲乇賰賴丕 毓購乇囟丞 賱賱匕亘丕亘 賵丕賱丨卮乇丕鬲貙 賴匕丕 賲丕 賮毓賱鬲賴 賱賷賳丕 亘丨賷丕鬲賴丕 鬲賲丕賲丕賸 丨賷賳 賯乇乇鬲 兀賳 鬲禺賵賳 亘賷賷鬲乇賵 丌賷乇賵鬲丕 夭賵噩賴丕 賵賵丕賱丿 亘賳鬲賷賴丕 賵賯乇乇鬲 兀賳 鬲賴噩乇賴 賮噩兀丞 亘毓丿 兀賳 賲賳丨賴丕 賵兀爻乇鬲賴 丕賱丨亘 賵丕賱丨賳丕賳 賵丕爻賲 兀爻乇丞 丌賷乇賵鬲丕 丕賱毓乇賷賯 賵賳賯賱賵賴丕 賲賳 賲賰丕賳丞 廿賱賶 兀禺乇賶 睾賷乇 賲亘丕賱賷賳 亘賲丕囟賷賴丕 賵賲丕囟賶 兀爻乇鬲賴丕 賵賲賳 兀賷賳 丕賳丨丿乇鬲.
賱賷賳丕 乇亘賲丕 賵賯毓鬲 賮乇賷爻丞 賱爻匕丕噩鬲賴丕 鬲丕乇丞 賵賮乇賷爻丞 賱睾賷乇鬲賴丕 丕賱卮丿賷丿丞 賵丨爻丕爻賷鬲賴丕 丕賱賲賮乇胤丞 鬲噩丕賴 氐丿賷賯鬲賴丕 賵賲丨丕賵賱丞 廿孬亘丕鬲 兀賳賴丕 丕賱兀賮囟賱 鬲丕乇丕鬲.
賱賴孬鬲 賱賷賳丕 賮賶 鬲賱賰 丕賱兀孬賳丕亍 禺賱賮 丨亘 夭丕卅賮 賵乇噩賱 禺丕卅賳 睾賷乇 丌亘賴丞 亘鬲丨匕賷乇丕鬲 氐丿賷賯鬲賴丕 丕賱賲購賯乇亘丞 賵兀氐丿賯丕卅賴丕 賵兀爻乇鬲賴丕貙 賮丕爻鬲丨丕賱鬲 丨賷丕鬲賴丕 賮氐賱丕賸 胤賵賷賱丕賸 賲賳 丕賱賰賮丕丨 賲賳 兀噩賱 丕賱毓賷卮 賵賰爻亘 丕賱乇夭賯 賵丕賱兀賴賲 賲賳 兀噩賱 鬲乇亘賷丞 亘賳丕鬲賴丕 丕賱孬賱丕孬.
賯丿 鬲禺鬲賱賮 兀乇丕卅賳丕 毓賳 賱賷賳丕 賱賰賳 鬲亘賯賶 賮賶 賳馗乇賶 賳賲賵匕噩 賱賱賰賮丕丨 賵丕賱賲孬丕亘乇丞 賲賳 噩丕賳亘 賵賳賲賵匕噩 賱賱禺賷丕賳丞 賵丕賱爻賱亘賷丞 毓賱賶 丕賱噩丕賳亘 丕賱丌禺乇.
乇丕賮丕賷賱丕 卮賷乇賵賱賵
丕亘賳丞 丕賱丕爻賰丕賮賶貙 丕賱賲鬲賯丿丞 匕賰丕亍丕賸 賵賮胤賳丞 賵賱賰賳 賮賶 丕賱賵賯鬲 匕丕鬲賴 鬲鬲賯丿 禺亘孬丕賸 賵賱丐賲丕賸貙 鬲爻鬲胤賷毓 丕賱鬲丨賰賲 賮賷賲賳 鬲卮丕亍 賰賷賮賲丕 鬲卮丕亍 賵賯鬲賲丕 鬲卮丕亍貙 賱鬲胤賵毓 丕賱噩賲賷毓 賱兀丿丕亍 兀丿賵丕乇 賲賳 氐賳丕毓鬲賴丕貙 賮賶 丨賷丕丞 賲賳 氐購賳毓 禺賷丕賱賴丕貙 亘丕賱賳爻亘丞 賱賱賷賱丕 丕賱賰賱 毓丿賲 賵賴賶 賮賯胤 賲賳 鬲爻鬲丨賯 兀賳 鬲賵賱賶 丕賱丕賴鬲賲丕賲貙 毓丕卮鬲 賱賷賱丕 賮鬲乇丞 賲賳 丨賷丕鬲賴丕 鬲賱毓亘 丿賵乇 丕賱禺丕卅賳丞 丕賱鬲賶 鬲噩乇賶 賵乇丕亍 卮賴賵丕鬲賴丕貙 賲賳丨鬲 - 亘爻匕丕噩丞 睾賷乇 賲毓鬲丕丿丞 賲賳賴丕 鈥� 賳賷賳賵 賰賱 卮卅 賮爻賱亘賴丕 賴賵 賰賱 卮卅 賵賴乇亘 賰胤賮賱貙 賳噩丨鬲 賮賶 兀賳 鬲丨胤賲 丨賷丕鬲賴丕 亘丿亍丕賸 賲賳 賯亘賵賱賴丕 亘丕賱夭賵丕噩 賲賳 爻鬲賷賮丕賳賵 賴乇亘丕賸 賲賳 丕亘賳 爻賵賱丕乇丕貙 賲乇賵乇丕賸 亘賳夭賵丕鬲賴丕 賲毓 賳賷賳賵貙 賵賳賴丕賷丞 亘賯亘賵賱賴丕 丕賱毓賲賱 賮賶 賲氐賳毓 亘乇賵賳賵.
賵賱賰賳 丕乇鬲丿鬲 丨賷丕丞 賱賷賱丕 毓賱賶 毓賯亘賷賴丕 賱賱丕賴鬲賲丕賲 亘卮卅賵賵賳 兀賮乇丕丿 兀爻乇鬲賴丕 賵兀氐丿賯丕卅賴丕 賵丨鬲賶 賱卮卅賵賵賳 丨賷賷賴丕 賵兀賴賱 賲丿賷賳鬲賴丕貙 鬲爻丕毓丿賴賲 賵鬲賲丿 賱賴賲 賷丿 丕賱毓賵賳 賮賶 丕賱兀夭賲丕鬲 賵丕賱賲丨賳貙 鬲購毓胤賶 賴匕丕 賵鬲爻丕毓丿 匕賱賰 賵鬲賯賮 亘噩丕賳亘 丕賱噩賲賷毓貙 鬲丨丕賵賱 兀賳 鬲購氐賱丨 丕賱亘賷卅丞 丕賱鬲賶 鬲乇亘鬲 賮賷賴丕 賵鬲噩毓賱賴丕 兀賮囟賱 賱賰賳 賴賷賴丕鬲 賮賱賳 賷鬲乇賰賴丕 丕賱賲賵丕胤賳賵賳 丕賱卮乇賮丕亍 兀亘賳丕亍 丕賱賲購乇丕亘賶 爻賵賱丕乇丕 賮賶 丨丕賱賴丕貙 賮爻賷賰賷丿賵賳 賱賴丕 賵賷丿亘乇賵賳 賱賴丕 丕賱賲氐丕卅亘貙 賮賷爻賯胤 兀亘賳丕亍 丕賱丨賶 亘賮囟賱賴賲 賮賶 卮乇賰 丕賱賲禺丿乇丕鬲 廿賱賶 兀賳 賷賱賯賶 兀禺賷賴丕 賲氐乇毓賴貙 賵賷丨賵賱賵賳 兀賳胤賵賳賷賵 廿賱賶 賵丨卮 賷賳鬲賯賲 賱賴賲 賲賲賳 賷賯賮 賮賶 胤乇賷賯 噩賲毓賴賲 賱賱孬乇賵丞貙 賱賷賱丕 丕賱孬賵乇賷丞 丨丕賵賱鬲 兀賳 鬲購睾賷乇 賲噩鬲賲毓賴丕 亘賷丿賴丕 賮賶 丕賱禺賮丕亍貙 爻丿鬲 毓賵夭賴賲 賵賵賯賮鬲 亘噩丕賳亘賴賲 賵爻丕毓丿鬲賴賲 賰賶 賱丕 賷丨鬲丕噩賵丕 廿賱賶 賲禺丿乇丕鬲 賵兀賲賵丕賱 乇亘丕 丌賱 爻賵賱丕乇丕 賵賱賰賳 胤購睾賷丕賳 兀亘賳丕亍 爻賵賱丕乇丕 丿賮毓賴賲 賱賱丕賳鬲賯丕賲 賲賳 賱賷賱丕 賵爻賱亘 丕亘賳鬲賴丕 賲賳賴丕.
賳賷賳賵 爻丕乇丕鬲賵乇賶
賰賲 兀賳鬲 夭乇賯丕亍 丕賱賷賲丕賲丞 賷丕 賳賷乇丞 丨爻賳責
鬲賵賯毓鬲賽 賮賶 亘丿丕賷丞 賯乇丕亍鬲賳丕 賱賱爻賱爻賱丞 兀賳 賷爻胤毓 賳噩賲 賳賷賳賵 賰爻賷丕爻賶 亘丕乇毓 賵毓囟賵 兀丨丿 丕賱兀丨夭丕亘貙 賵賴丕 賴賵 賳賷賳賵 丕賱爻賷丕爻賶 匕丕卅毓 丕賱氐賷鬲 賵丕賱亘乇賱賲丕賳賶 丕賱賯丿賷乇 丕賱匕賶 賷賯鬲丨賲 丕賱丨賷丕丞 丕賱爻賷丕爻賷丞 亘賯丿乇鬲賴 丕賱賰亘賷乇丞 毓賱賶 鬲睾賷賷乇 賱賵賳賴 賲孬賱 丕賱丨乇亘丕亍 鬲賲丕賲丕賸貙 鬲爻賱賯 賴匕丕 賵鬲賲賱賯 賴匕丕 賵兀睾乇賶 鬲賱賰 賵賵毓丿 賱賷賳丕 亘賵毓賵丿 丕賱賵賮丕亍 賵丕賱丕賱鬲夭丕賲 賵賱賰賳 賴賷賴丕鬲 兀賳 賷賱鬲夭賲 爻賷丕爻賶 亘賵毓丿 兀賵 賷孬亘鬲 毓賱賶 賲亘丿兀貙 賳賷賳賵 毓亘賯乇賶 丕賱禺丿丕毓 賵丕賱乇賯氐 毓賱賶 噩賲賷毓 丕賱丨亘丕賱 賵氐賵賱丕賸 賱睾丕賷鬲賴貙 丕爻鬲毓賲賱 賱賷賳丕 賵賲賳 賯亘賱賴丕 廿賱賷賵賳賵乇丕 賵睾賷乇賴賲 丕賱賰孬賷乇 鬲禺賱賶 毓賳 丕賱噩賲賷毓 賲賳 兀噩賱 丕賱胤賲賵丨 丕賱爻賷丕爻賶 丕賱匕賶 賱丕 賷賯賮 兀賲丕賲賴 毓丕卅賯 賮丿丕卅賲丕賸 賷噩丿 丕賱胤乇賯 丕賱賲賱鬲賵賷丞 賱賮鬲丨 丕賱兀亘賵丕亘 丕賱賲購睾賱賯丞貙 亘丕禺鬲氐丕乇 賳賷賳賵 賴賵 丕賱賳賲賵匕噩 丕賱兀賲孬賱 賱噩賲賷毓 丕賱爻賷丕爻賷賷賳 賮賶 賰賱 夭賲丕賳 賵賲賰丕賳.
丕賱賳賴丕賷丞 睾賷乇 丕賱鬲賯賱賷丿賷丞 賱乇賵丕賷丞 睾賷乇 鬲賯賱賷丿賷丞 賱丕 廿噩丕亘丕鬲 賵丕囟丨丞 賱丕 賳賴丕賷丕鬲 賲購丨丿丿丞 賮賯胤 賳賴丕賷丞 賲亘鬲賵乇丞 賱丨賰丕賷丞 賲購賰鬲賲賱丞貙 鬲購乇賵賶 賲賳 胤乇賮 賵丕丨丿貙 賮賴賱 毓賱賷賳丕 兀賳 賳賳鬲馗乇 兀賳 鬲購賰賲賱 賱賳丕 賱賷賱丕 亘賯賷丞 丕賱賯氐丞 兀賲 賳囟毓 兀賳賮爻賳丕 賲賵囟毓 賱賷賱丕 賮賳乇賶 丕賱噩夭亍 丕賱亘丕賯賶 賲賳 丕賱丨賰丕賷丞 兀賲 賳賯乇乇 兀賳 賳氐賳毓 丕賱賳賴丕賷丞 亘兀賳賮爻賳丕:
賱丕 兀賸氐丿賯 兀賳 賴匕丕 丌禺乇 賲丕 爻兀賯賵賱賴 亘丨賯 賱賷賳丕 賵賱賷賱丕 賵兀賳 丕賱乇丨賱丞 丕賱乇丕卅毓丞 亘氐丨亘丞 爻賷丿丞 丕賱噩賵丿乇賷丿夭 丕賱兀賵賱賶 賳賷乇丞 丨爻賳 賵丕賱賱賷丿賶 乇丨賲丞 賵丕賱賱賷丿賶 廿爻乇丕亍 丕賳鬲賴鬲 亘丕賱賮毓賱貙 兀卮毓乇 丕賱丌賳 亘卮毓賵乇 賮賯丿 乇賴賷亘 兀賳賳賶 賱賳 兀賱鬲賯賶 賲乇丞 丕禺乇賶 亘賱賷賳丕 賵賱賷賱丕 賮賶 丕賱毓丕卮乇 賲賳 丕賱卮賴乇 丕賱賯丕丿賲 賵賱賰賳 毓夭丕卅賶 丕賱賵丨賷丿 兀賳賳丕 爻賳賱鬲賯賶 亘廿匕賳 丕賱賱賴 賮賶 丕賱毓丕卮乇 賲賳 賷賵賳賷賵 賲毓 爻賱爻賱丞 噩丿賷丿丞 賲賳 丕禺鬲賷丕乇 爻賷丿丞 丕賱噩賵丿乇賷丿夭 丕賱兀賵賱賶.
廿賷賱賷賳丕 睾乇賷賰賵
賯賲丞 丕賱禺賷亘丞 賵丕賱囟賷丕毓 兀賳 鬲亘賳賶 亘賷丿賰 賲賲賱賰鬲賰 賵鬲爻鬲賰孬乇賴丕 - 兀賵 賷爻鬲賰孬乇賴丕 兀丨丿賴賲 毓賱賷賰 - 毓賱賶 賳賮爻賰 賮鬲賯乇乇 兀賳 鬲賴丿賲賴丕 賮賵賯 乇兀爻賰 賲亘丕卮乇丞.
丕亘賳丞 亘賵丕亘 丕賱亘賱丿賷丞 丕賱賮鬲丕丞 丕賱賲購噩鬲賴丿丞 丕賱鬲賶 丨丕賵賱鬲 兀賳 鬲鬲賮賵賯 毓賱賶 夭賲賷賱鬲賴丕 丕賱兀匕賰賶 亘丕賱賲孬丕亘乇丞 賵丕賱毓賲賱 賵丕賱丕噩鬲賴丕丿 賮兀賰賲賱鬲 丿乇丕爻鬲賴丕 賵鬲賮賵賯鬲 賵丕賱鬲丨賯鬲 亘丕賱噩丕賲毓丞 賵鬲禺乇噩鬲 賲賳賴丕 賵丕賯鬲丨賲鬲 賲噩丕賱 丕賱賰鬲丕亘丞 賵丨賯賯鬲 亘賴 賳噩丕丨丕賸 亘丕賴乇丕賸 兀賳噩亘鬲 賲賳 丕賱兀亘賳丕亍 孬賱丕孬丞 亘賳丕鬲 鬲賮賵賯賳 賵丕爻鬲賰賲賱賳 丿乇丕爻鬲賴賳貙 丨鬲賶 丕賱丌賳 鬲亘丿賵 丨賷丕丞 賱賷賳丕 丨賱賯丞 胤賵賷賱丞 賲賳 丕賱丕噩鬲賴丕丿 賵丕賱噩丿 丕賱賲購賰賱賱 亘丕賱賳噩丕丨 賵丕賱鬲賮賵賯.
賱賰賳 賴賱 鬲禺賷賱鬲 賷賵賲丕賸 兀賳 鬲氐賳毓 賰毓賰丞 噩賲賷賱丞 亘毓丿 氐亘乇 賵毓賳丕亍 賵鬲賰丕賱賷賮 賲丕賱賷丞 賵賮賶 賱丨馗丞 鬲賯乇乇 兀賳 鬲丿賴爻 賴匕賴 丕賱賰毓賰丞 鬲丨鬲 兀賯丿丕賲賰 兀賵 鬲鬲乇賰賴丕 毓購乇囟丞 賱賱匕亘丕亘 賵丕賱丨卮乇丕鬲貙 賴匕丕 賲丕 賮毓賱鬲賴 賱賷賳丕 亘丨賷丕鬲賴丕 鬲賲丕賲丕賸 丨賷賳 賯乇乇鬲 兀賳 鬲禺賵賳 亘賷賷鬲乇賵 丌賷乇賵鬲丕 夭賵噩賴丕 賵賵丕賱丿 亘賳鬲賷賴丕 賵賯乇乇鬲 兀賳 鬲賴噩乇賴 賮噩兀丞 亘毓丿 兀賳 賲賳丨賴丕 賵兀爻乇鬲賴 丕賱丨亘 賵丕賱丨賳丕賳 賵丕爻賲 兀爻乇丞 丌賷乇賵鬲丕 丕賱毓乇賷賯 賵賳賯賱賵賴丕 賲賳 賲賰丕賳丞 廿賱賶 兀禺乇賶 睾賷乇 賲亘丕賱賷賳 亘賲丕囟賷賴丕 賵賲丕囟賶 兀爻乇鬲賴丕 賵賲賳 兀賷賳 丕賳丨丿乇鬲.
賱賷賳丕 乇亘賲丕 賵賯毓鬲 賮乇賷爻丞 賱爻匕丕噩鬲賴丕 鬲丕乇丞 賵賮乇賷爻丞 賱睾賷乇鬲賴丕 丕賱卮丿賷丿丞 賵丨爻丕爻賷鬲賴丕 丕賱賲賮乇胤丞 鬲噩丕賴 氐丿賷賯鬲賴丕 賵賲丨丕賵賱丞 廿孬亘丕鬲 兀賳賴丕 丕賱兀賮囟賱 鬲丕乇丕鬲.
賱賴孬鬲 賱賷賳丕 賮賶 鬲賱賰 丕賱兀孬賳丕亍 禺賱賮 丨亘 夭丕卅賮 賵乇噩賱 禺丕卅賳 睾賷乇 丌亘賴丞 亘鬲丨匕賷乇丕鬲 氐丿賷賯鬲賴丕 丕賱賲購賯乇亘丞 賵兀氐丿賯丕卅賴丕 賵兀爻乇鬲賴丕貙 賮丕爻鬲丨丕賱鬲 丨賷丕鬲賴丕 賮氐賱丕賸 胤賵賷賱丕賸 賲賳 丕賱賰賮丕丨 賲賳 兀噩賱 丕賱毓賷卮 賵賰爻亘 丕賱乇夭賯 賵丕賱兀賴賲 賲賳 兀噩賱 鬲乇亘賷丞 亘賳丕鬲賴丕 丕賱孬賱丕孬.
賯丿 鬲禺鬲賱賮 兀乇丕卅賳丕 毓賳 賱賷賳丕 賱賰賳 鬲亘賯賶 賮賶 賳馗乇賶 賳賲賵匕噩 賱賱賰賮丕丨 賵丕賱賲孬丕亘乇丞 賲賳 噩丕賳亘 賵賳賲賵匕噩 賱賱禺賷丕賳丞 賵丕賱爻賱亘賷丞 毓賱賶 丕賱噩丕賳亘 丕賱丌禺乇.
乇丕賮丕賷賱丕 卮賷乇賵賱賵
丕亘賳丞 丕賱丕爻賰丕賮賶貙 丕賱賲鬲賯丿丞 匕賰丕亍丕賸 賵賮胤賳丞 賵賱賰賳 賮賶 丕賱賵賯鬲 匕丕鬲賴 鬲鬲賯丿 禺亘孬丕賸 賵賱丐賲丕賸貙 鬲爻鬲胤賷毓 丕賱鬲丨賰賲 賮賷賲賳 鬲卮丕亍 賰賷賮賲丕 鬲卮丕亍 賵賯鬲賲丕 鬲卮丕亍貙 賱鬲胤賵毓 丕賱噩賲賷毓 賱兀丿丕亍 兀丿賵丕乇 賲賳 氐賳丕毓鬲賴丕貙 賮賶 丨賷丕丞 賲賳 氐購賳毓 禺賷丕賱賴丕貙 亘丕賱賳爻亘丞 賱賱賷賱丕 丕賱賰賱 毓丿賲 賵賴賶 賮賯胤 賲賳 鬲爻鬲丨賯 兀賳 鬲賵賱賶 丕賱丕賴鬲賲丕賲貙 毓丕卮鬲 賱賷賱丕 賮鬲乇丞 賲賳 丨賷丕鬲賴丕 鬲賱毓亘 丿賵乇 丕賱禺丕卅賳丞 丕賱鬲賶 鬲噩乇賶 賵乇丕亍 卮賴賵丕鬲賴丕貙 賲賳丨鬲 - 亘爻匕丕噩丞 睾賷乇 賲毓鬲丕丿丞 賲賳賴丕 鈥� 賳賷賳賵 賰賱 卮卅 賮爻賱亘賴丕 賴賵 賰賱 卮卅 賵賴乇亘 賰胤賮賱貙 賳噩丨鬲 賮賶 兀賳 鬲丨胤賲 丨賷丕鬲賴丕 亘丿亍丕賸 賲賳 賯亘賵賱賴丕 亘丕賱夭賵丕噩 賲賳 爻鬲賷賮丕賳賵 賴乇亘丕賸 賲賳 丕亘賳 爻賵賱丕乇丕貙 賲乇賵乇丕賸 亘賳夭賵丕鬲賴丕 賲毓 賳賷賳賵貙 賵賳賴丕賷丞 亘賯亘賵賱賴丕 丕賱毓賲賱 賮賶 賲氐賳毓 亘乇賵賳賵.
賵賱賰賳 丕乇鬲丿鬲 丨賷丕丞 賱賷賱丕 毓賱賶 毓賯亘賷賴丕 賱賱丕賴鬲賲丕賲 亘卮卅賵賵賳 兀賮乇丕丿 兀爻乇鬲賴丕 賵兀氐丿賯丕卅賴丕 賵丨鬲賶 賱卮卅賵賵賳 丨賷賷賴丕 賵兀賴賱 賲丿賷賳鬲賴丕貙 鬲爻丕毓丿賴賲 賵鬲賲丿 賱賴賲 賷丿 丕賱毓賵賳 賮賶 丕賱兀夭賲丕鬲 賵丕賱賲丨賳貙 鬲購毓胤賶 賴匕丕 賵鬲爻丕毓丿 匕賱賰 賵鬲賯賮 亘噩丕賳亘 丕賱噩賲賷毓貙 鬲丨丕賵賱 兀賳 鬲購氐賱丨 丕賱亘賷卅丞 丕賱鬲賶 鬲乇亘鬲 賮賷賴丕 賵鬲噩毓賱賴丕 兀賮囟賱 賱賰賳 賴賷賴丕鬲 賮賱賳 賷鬲乇賰賴丕 丕賱賲賵丕胤賳賵賳 丕賱卮乇賮丕亍 兀亘賳丕亍 丕賱賲購乇丕亘賶 爻賵賱丕乇丕 賮賶 丨丕賱賴丕貙 賮爻賷賰賷丿賵賳 賱賴丕 賵賷丿亘乇賵賳 賱賴丕 丕賱賲氐丕卅亘貙 賮賷爻賯胤 兀亘賳丕亍 丕賱丨賶 亘賮囟賱賴賲 賮賶 卮乇賰 丕賱賲禺丿乇丕鬲 廿賱賶 兀賳 賷賱賯賶 兀禺賷賴丕 賲氐乇毓賴貙 賵賷丨賵賱賵賳 兀賳胤賵賳賷賵 廿賱賶 賵丨卮 賷賳鬲賯賲 賱賴賲 賲賲賳 賷賯賮 賮賶 胤乇賷賯 噩賲毓賴賲 賱賱孬乇賵丞貙 賱賷賱丕 丕賱孬賵乇賷丞 丨丕賵賱鬲 兀賳 鬲購睾賷乇 賲噩鬲賲毓賴丕 亘賷丿賴丕 賮賶 丕賱禺賮丕亍貙 爻丿鬲 毓賵夭賴賲 賵賵賯賮鬲 亘噩丕賳亘賴賲 賵爻丕毓丿鬲賴賲 賰賶 賱丕 賷丨鬲丕噩賵丕 廿賱賶 賲禺丿乇丕鬲 賵兀賲賵丕賱 乇亘丕 丌賱 爻賵賱丕乇丕 賵賱賰賳 胤購睾賷丕賳 兀亘賳丕亍 爻賵賱丕乇丕 丿賮毓賴賲 賱賱丕賳鬲賯丕賲 賲賳 賱賷賱丕 賵爻賱亘 丕亘賳鬲賴丕 賲賳賴丕.
賳賷賳賵 爻丕乇丕鬲賵乇賶
賰賲 兀賳鬲 夭乇賯丕亍 丕賱賷賲丕賲丞 賷丕 賳賷乇丞 丨爻賳責
鬲賵賯毓鬲賽 賮賶 亘丿丕賷丞 賯乇丕亍鬲賳丕 賱賱爻賱爻賱丞 兀賳 賷爻胤毓 賳噩賲 賳賷賳賵 賰爻賷丕爻賶 亘丕乇毓 賵毓囟賵 兀丨丿 丕賱兀丨夭丕亘貙 賵賴丕 賴賵 賳賷賳賵 丕賱爻賷丕爻賶 匕丕卅毓 丕賱氐賷鬲 賵丕賱亘乇賱賲丕賳賶 丕賱賯丿賷乇 丕賱匕賶 賷賯鬲丨賲 丕賱丨賷丕丞 丕賱爻賷丕爻賷丞 亘賯丿乇鬲賴 丕賱賰亘賷乇丞 毓賱賶 鬲睾賷賷乇 賱賵賳賴 賲孬賱 丕賱丨乇亘丕亍 鬲賲丕賲丕賸貙 鬲爻賱賯 賴匕丕 賵鬲賲賱賯 賴匕丕 賵兀睾乇賶 鬲賱賰 賵賵毓丿 賱賷賳丕 亘賵毓賵丿 丕賱賵賮丕亍 賵丕賱丕賱鬲夭丕賲 賵賱賰賳 賴賷賴丕鬲 兀賳 賷賱鬲夭賲 爻賷丕爻賶 亘賵毓丿 兀賵 賷孬亘鬲 毓賱賶 賲亘丿兀貙 賳賷賳賵 毓亘賯乇賶 丕賱禺丿丕毓 賵丕賱乇賯氐 毓賱賶 噩賲賷毓 丕賱丨亘丕賱 賵氐賵賱丕賸 賱睾丕賷鬲賴貙 丕爻鬲毓賲賱 賱賷賳丕 賵賲賳 賯亘賱賴丕 廿賱賷賵賳賵乇丕 賵睾賷乇賴賲 丕賱賰孬賷乇 鬲禺賱賶 毓賳 丕賱噩賲賷毓 賲賳 兀噩賱 丕賱胤賲賵丨 丕賱爻賷丕爻賶 丕賱匕賶 賱丕 賷賯賮 兀賲丕賲賴 毓丕卅賯 賮丿丕卅賲丕賸 賷噩丿 丕賱胤乇賯 丕賱賲賱鬲賵賷丞 賱賮鬲丨 丕賱兀亘賵丕亘 丕賱賲購睾賱賯丞貙 亘丕禺鬲氐丕乇 賳賷賳賵 賴賵 丕賱賳賲賵匕噩 丕賱兀賲孬賱 賱噩賲賷毓 丕賱爻賷丕爻賷賷賳 賮賶 賰賱 夭賲丕賳 賵賲賰丕賳.
丕賱賳賴丕賷丞 睾賷乇 丕賱鬲賯賱賷丿賷丞 賱乇賵丕賷丞 睾賷乇 鬲賯賱賷丿賷丞 賱丕 廿噩丕亘丕鬲 賵丕囟丨丞 賱丕 賳賴丕賷丕鬲 賲購丨丿丿丞 賮賯胤 賳賴丕賷丞 賲亘鬲賵乇丞 賱丨賰丕賷丞 賲購賰鬲賲賱丞貙 鬲購乇賵賶 賲賳 胤乇賮 賵丕丨丿貙 賮賴賱 毓賱賷賳丕 兀賳 賳賳鬲馗乇 兀賳 鬲購賰賲賱 賱賳丕 賱賷賱丕 亘賯賷丞 丕賱賯氐丞 兀賲 賳囟毓 兀賳賮爻賳丕 賲賵囟毓 賱賷賱丕 賮賳乇賶 丕賱噩夭亍 丕賱亘丕賯賶 賲賳 丕賱丨賰丕賷丞 兀賲 賳賯乇乇 兀賳 賳氐賳毓 丕賱賳賴丕賷丞 亘兀賳賮爻賳丕:
November 23, 2015
Between the Neapolitan Novels and Hanya Yanagihara's A Little Life, this is turning out to be the year of books in which nobody gets to be happy for longer than about twelve pages.
I'm pretty sure I was supposed to love these books. I was told I was going to love these books. And maybe it's fitting that I didn't just have a lukewarm reaction to these books--I HATED them. And part of the reason I hated them was because Ferrante's writing makes you need to keep reading. People said to me, well, why don't you just stop reading if you're not enjoying it? Because I CAN'T. I need to know what happens to these horrible people.
Anyway, thank goodness that's over. Now I can go to bed without dreading tomorrow.
I'm pretty sure I was supposed to love these books. I was told I was going to love these books. And maybe it's fitting that I didn't just have a lukewarm reaction to these books--I HATED them. And part of the reason I hated them was because Ferrante's writing makes you need to keep reading. People said to me, well, why don't you just stop reading if you're not enjoying it? Because I CAN'T. I need to know what happens to these horrible people.
Anyway, thank goodness that's over. Now I can go to bed without dreading tomorrow.
January 13, 2016
I want to thank Elena Ferrante aka Lenu, for writing such an excellent and complete story of the lives of herself and her soulmate-crazy and brilliant best friend, Lila. The four books are chronological and start when the two girls are about 8 years old and continue into their sixties. I don't want to tell the story here but here are some of my observations about reading such a poignant, emotionally honest and complete story:
1. Life is hard and then you die. There is nothing easy about relationships, marriages, having and raising families, living on tight budgets, deciding what career path to take, dealing with family members on drugs, raising kids who are young and becoming sexual, and in this particular environment in Naples, Italy in the 50's, friends and families with a lot of influence who are basically mobsters. Elena takes us through all of these type of issues along with her high strung, highly opinionated and beautiful friend, Lila, who is the opposite of Lenu, never a compromiser, always aggressive and pushy, highly opinionated and willing to put her life at stake to stand up for herself and Lenu. Some of the situations are hilarious and amazing, others are depressing and life threatening.
2. I think the author has been willing to admit many personal thoughts and reactions to various ultra personal situations that are eye openers as to how relationships actually work. The submissive girl can so easily yield to the thoughts and opinions of the dominate girl, that her whole life is changed not necessarily for the better. The one with low self esteem or less confidence can become overly ready to do almost anything for love or approval. It's so true and yet so painful to watch. And yet the friendship endures and each is successful in working their way through a world, especially in this era, so dominated by the desires and customs of parents and the men that they end up having relationships with.
3. There is interesting history of the politics of Italy of the era, facists, communists, the fight for labor unions and equality, the opinions of the liberal professors in the universities of the era, the disdain each group has for the other and the two girls, each in totally different settings, becoming part of this whole politically morphing time. Some of each of their friends become very involved in the mess, which includes murder, friends dragged off into the chaos in real danger.
4. There is a lot of realistic and sometimes difficult to handle marriage and relationship situations, adultery, abandonment, way too much forgiveness of one particular womanizing fellow who affects the life of each of the girls who are becoming women. However, it is written in a way that almost makes some of their stupid and immature decisions totally understandable, while each of them try to help the other get through horrible and sometimes almost funny and pathetic situations occur. There is one sexual description of what one of the girls walks in on that nailed me, so real and yet a ridiculous eye opener, almost as if I had to see it to understand what a dope this guy really was. This was another example of how Elena was able to make us walk in her shoes. I'm guessing she had to be chuckling as she finished writing this particular scene, maybe too much for some readers.
5. And then there is the never ending worry and difficult time raising the 5 kids that the two of them had, both stepping in to help the other from time to time. Not wanting to tell the story, there is an event involving one of the kids that almost devastates one of the mothers.
In the end, we have watched in great detail the full lives of two ordinary and yet both extraordinary women, and I will miss them both, always hoping that maybe, a fifth book will show up.
1. Life is hard and then you die. There is nothing easy about relationships, marriages, having and raising families, living on tight budgets, deciding what career path to take, dealing with family members on drugs, raising kids who are young and becoming sexual, and in this particular environment in Naples, Italy in the 50's, friends and families with a lot of influence who are basically mobsters. Elena takes us through all of these type of issues along with her high strung, highly opinionated and beautiful friend, Lila, who is the opposite of Lenu, never a compromiser, always aggressive and pushy, highly opinionated and willing to put her life at stake to stand up for herself and Lenu. Some of the situations are hilarious and amazing, others are depressing and life threatening.
2. I think the author has been willing to admit many personal thoughts and reactions to various ultra personal situations that are eye openers as to how relationships actually work. The submissive girl can so easily yield to the thoughts and opinions of the dominate girl, that her whole life is changed not necessarily for the better. The one with low self esteem or less confidence can become overly ready to do almost anything for love or approval. It's so true and yet so painful to watch. And yet the friendship endures and each is successful in working their way through a world, especially in this era, so dominated by the desires and customs of parents and the men that they end up having relationships with.
3. There is interesting history of the politics of Italy of the era, facists, communists, the fight for labor unions and equality, the opinions of the liberal professors in the universities of the era, the disdain each group has for the other and the two girls, each in totally different settings, becoming part of this whole politically morphing time. Some of each of their friends become very involved in the mess, which includes murder, friends dragged off into the chaos in real danger.
4. There is a lot of realistic and sometimes difficult to handle marriage and relationship situations, adultery, abandonment, way too much forgiveness of one particular womanizing fellow who affects the life of each of the girls who are becoming women. However, it is written in a way that almost makes some of their stupid and immature decisions totally understandable, while each of them try to help the other get through horrible and sometimes almost funny and pathetic situations occur. There is one sexual description of what one of the girls walks in on that nailed me, so real and yet a ridiculous eye opener, almost as if I had to see it to understand what a dope this guy really was. This was another example of how Elena was able to make us walk in her shoes. I'm guessing she had to be chuckling as she finished writing this particular scene, maybe too much for some readers.
5. And then there is the never ending worry and difficult time raising the 5 kids that the two of them had, both stepping in to help the other from time to time. Not wanting to tell the story, there is an event involving one of the kids that almost devastates one of the mothers.
In the end, we have watched in great detail the full lives of two ordinary and yet both extraordinary women, and I will miss them both, always hoping that maybe, a fifth book will show up.
March 21, 2018
No meager summary I might give here can conjure the astonishing ferocity of these books鈥攗nabated over four volumes. If you read closely there are some aphorisms buried here. One that struck me particularly hard: 鈥淎 woman without love for her origins is lost.鈥� But there are other home truths as well: 鈥淟ove and sex are unreasonable and brutal.鈥� and 鈥淚t was a good rule not to expect the ideal but to enjoy what is possible.鈥� and 鈥淗ow many words remain unsayable even between a couple in love?鈥� Most moving here for me have been the stories of Alfonso, a gay man; of Len霉鈥檚 mother, Immacolata; and Lennucia's difficulty with her first love, Nino.
We remember the terrible violence and sourness of Mrs. Greco, along with her hideous limp, from the first three novels in the series. In this fourth, she becomes gravely ill and in that illness all her previous pretensions to dominance over her first child, Len霉, our narrator, fall away. She begins to talk frankly to her daughter for the first time. Len霉, it turns out, is her favorite child, perhaps because she was born first. The others children, her mother admits to not wanting and never even loving. The reader is astonished that Ferrante can peel back the persona of this brutal, violent mother, and let us see what she has long been obsessed with. And this is the beautiful part. She and Len霉 now draw close, for the first time in the lives of either. It's a stunning change in both the direction and velocity of the story and a tremendously exciting piece of writing.
Alfonso is also in danger, but in another way. As a gay man Alphonso has seduced the Cammorist, Michele Solara, one of the two Solara brothers. Alfonso has done this by passing in drag for Lila. Lila has rejected Michele who's gone quite made over her. So Lila has cruelly sets Alfonso up with Michele. If Michele can鈥檛 have Lila, he can at least have this remarkable lookalike who evens fits into Lila's dresses. The cruelty is multidimensional. It鈥檚 cruel on Lila鈥檚 part to use Alfonso in a way that tortures Michele and has his brother, Marcello, in a near murderous rage. Alfonso鈥檚 stuck, loving Michele, even fucking him, for all the wrong reasons. He鈥檚 putting himself at terrible risk, but then that鈥檚 part of the thrill.
Then there鈥檚 Nino. One of the tetralogy鈥檚 most persistent themes is first love. First love is, often though not always, about learning that you can鈥檛 have who you want, or that there are sudden surprising limitations on who you thought the wonderful love object was. I've just finished Andre Aciman鈥檚 which deals with this theme in a manner both brilliant and eviscerating. Nino Sarratore is loved by Lennucia from early grade school days. When she becomes a feted author, Nino鈥攁fter having an affair with Lina years before that was absolutely gut wrenching for Len霉鈥攎iraculously shows up. She leaves her husband for him. At the same time he won鈥檛 leave his wife for her because she鈥檚 got money, being the daughter of an industrialist. So after much agony Len霉 resolves to share Nino. Add to that the fact that Nino鈥檚 father, whom he hates, has instilled in his son a model of the philanderer that not even Nino realizes he fervently emulates to a fair-thee-well. Women, Len霉 finally realizes, after having his child, are Nino鈥檚 giddy enablers. They swoon over him. Always have. The realization equals heartbreak for our heroine but also much personal growth. Funny, how we all have to make our own mistakes when it comes to love.
The aspect most striking in this fourth volume鈥攁lthough Ferrante's done it throughout the series鈥� is her ability to animate the cognitive split in her characters, their dualism or knack for self contradiction. That鈥檚 what makes them so alive! They are each living minds assessing the daily the clashing inputs, which often cloud their wants and compromise their actions. This novel like the others is angst-ridden. There鈥檚 a tremendous agitation. In that sense it鈥檚 consistent with the other three volumes. The book at times almost trembled from my grip, not from boredom, but because of the intensity of the drama. I could hardly bear to read what鈥檚 coming next. I have to think more about this. For my reaction points to something unique in this fourth and final volume. Ciao.
We remember the terrible violence and sourness of Mrs. Greco, along with her hideous limp, from the first three novels in the series. In this fourth, she becomes gravely ill and in that illness all her previous pretensions to dominance over her first child, Len霉, our narrator, fall away. She begins to talk frankly to her daughter for the first time. Len霉, it turns out, is her favorite child, perhaps because she was born first. The others children, her mother admits to not wanting and never even loving. The reader is astonished that Ferrante can peel back the persona of this brutal, violent mother, and let us see what she has long been obsessed with. And this is the beautiful part. She and Len霉 now draw close, for the first time in the lives of either. It's a stunning change in both the direction and velocity of the story and a tremendously exciting piece of writing.
Alfonso is also in danger, but in another way. As a gay man Alphonso has seduced the Cammorist, Michele Solara, one of the two Solara brothers. Alfonso has done this by passing in drag for Lila. Lila has rejected Michele who's gone quite made over her. So Lila has cruelly sets Alfonso up with Michele. If Michele can鈥檛 have Lila, he can at least have this remarkable lookalike who evens fits into Lila's dresses. The cruelty is multidimensional. It鈥檚 cruel on Lila鈥檚 part to use Alfonso in a way that tortures Michele and has his brother, Marcello, in a near murderous rage. Alfonso鈥檚 stuck, loving Michele, even fucking him, for all the wrong reasons. He鈥檚 putting himself at terrible risk, but then that鈥檚 part of the thrill.
Then there鈥檚 Nino. One of the tetralogy鈥檚 most persistent themes is first love. First love is, often though not always, about learning that you can鈥檛 have who you want, or that there are sudden surprising limitations on who you thought the wonderful love object was. I've just finished Andre Aciman鈥檚 which deals with this theme in a manner both brilliant and eviscerating. Nino Sarratore is loved by Lennucia from early grade school days. When she becomes a feted author, Nino鈥攁fter having an affair with Lina years before that was absolutely gut wrenching for Len霉鈥攎iraculously shows up. She leaves her husband for him. At the same time he won鈥檛 leave his wife for her because she鈥檚 got money, being the daughter of an industrialist. So after much agony Len霉 resolves to share Nino. Add to that the fact that Nino鈥檚 father, whom he hates, has instilled in his son a model of the philanderer that not even Nino realizes he fervently emulates to a fair-thee-well. Women, Len霉 finally realizes, after having his child, are Nino鈥檚 giddy enablers. They swoon over him. Always have. The realization equals heartbreak for our heroine but also much personal growth. Funny, how we all have to make our own mistakes when it comes to love.
The aspect most striking in this fourth volume鈥攁lthough Ferrante's done it throughout the series鈥� is her ability to animate the cognitive split in her characters, their dualism or knack for self contradiction. That鈥檚 what makes them so alive! They are each living minds assessing the daily the clashing inputs, which often cloud their wants and compromise their actions. This novel like the others is angst-ridden. There鈥檚 a tremendous agitation. In that sense it鈥檚 consistent with the other three volumes. The book at times almost trembled from my grip, not from boredom, but because of the intensity of the drama. I could hardly bear to read what鈥檚 coming next. I have to think more about this. For my reaction points to something unique in this fourth and final volume. Ciao.
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