My Summer of Ferrante

Whenever there's a book that gets tons and tons of attention (often before it's even available in a bookshop), I tend to avoid it.  Not forever, mind you, but long enough that some of the excitement has waned.  I've found that, when everyone is talking about a book, it can be difficult to have your own thoughts and opinions about it.  I also prefer to know only the very basics about a plot, if anything at all, before I read a book.  The chance that some important point will be revealed, before I want to know about it, is very high.  Too much of a risk.

A perfect example of a big, buzzy book (books, in this case) is Elena Ferrante's Neapolitan Quartet.  In the US, Europa Editions published the entire series, translated by Ann Goldstein, on the following schedule:

1. My Brilliant Friend, 2012
2. The Story of a New Name, 2013
3. Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay, 2014
4. The Story of the Lost Child, 2015

I first became aware of these novels, and their popularity, between the release of the third and fourth books.  There was so much talk about how feminist the series was, how it was such a perfect portrayal of female friendship, unlike anything else. The most devoted of her readers were so much so that they were given their own disease - Ferrante Fever.  The more I heard in favor of these books, the longer I knew it would be before I decided to read them.

It was late spring of this year that I finally decided that enough time had elapsed, and the buzz had settled.  After all, it was four years since the first book was published here, and one year since the last one.  So I took the plunge, and decided that 2016 would be my Summer of Ferrante.

Book 1: My Brilliant Friend

I began the first book, My Brilliant Friend, on July 26.  The beginning of the book had an index of the major characters, organized by family.  Usually, this kind of thing gives me anxiety, because there are so many people to keep straight - nine families with 47 total names.  Yikes!  Instead of allowing myself to feel like I had to memorize the names for some kind of future test, I decided to dive in.

My Brilliant Friend initially introduces the reader to the character of Elena Greco, alternately referred to as Lenuccia or Lenu.  She is in her later years, living in Turin, and her lifelong best friend Lila's son is calling her.  Lila has gone missing, and he wonders if she knows where Lila might be.  Elena has no idea where Lila is, tells him as much, and then sets about writing a detailed account of her and Lila's 50-year friendship.  The four novels in the "Neapolitan Quartet" are this account in total.  The first installment begins when Elena and Lila, residing in a particularly poor neighborhood in Naples, are in first grade, not long after the end of WW2, and follows until they're in their mid-teens.  

I was quickly reminded that reading translated literature can be tricky, especially when it comes to deciphering local idioms that have been carried over more or less directly into the other language.  I was immediately confronted with this in My Brilliant Friend.  There were many words and phrases that must be common in Italian, but are much less so in English, or not used in the same way or with the same connotations.  One thing I quickly realized was that the writing style in this novel could never be described as "lyrical" or "poetic".  The narrative is very prosaic, and the sentences - paragraphs - chapters moved along in sparse fits and spurts.

As is often the case when I read works in translation, I found it helpful not to fight against the words on the page.  Even if their use sometimes seems foreign or out of character, just go along with the translator and trust that it will all be okay.  Once I relaxed into the translation, I couldn't put the book down!  I was so enthralled with the depiction of the girls, their families, and the neighborhood intricacies and brutalities that I didn't want to put the book down.  I ended up reading all 331 pages in two days, finishing on July 28.

Book 2: The Story of a New Name

I had an unexpected problem finding the second Neapolitan Novel.  Although I really liked the first one, I wasn't sure that I would love The Story of a New Name, so I resolved to borrow it from a library in my area.  The first two (public libraries in my county and the neighboring one) - which usually have a fantastic selection of books - neither one had a copy in their catalog.  The third system, private and much smaller, with a pretty dismal collection, had an available copy.  Oh happy day!  It may have taken a week to be delivered to my local branch, but eventually it made its way to me.  I began reading it on August 8th.

Continuing where My Brilliant Friend left off, the reader continues to follow Elena Greco as she records the remembrances of her friendship with Lila. In this installment, they age from their late teens through mid-twenties. There is so much life that happens, and the drama in which the girls live their lives can be almost overwhelming. They alternate back and forth between prosperity and devastation throughout the novel.  There are lavish beach vacations, affairs, current (mid-1960's Italy) political discourse, neighborhood gossip, and much more. The violence and influence of the local mafia family is never far away from the daily goings on in their Naples neighborhood.  Throughout these twists and turns in their early adult lives, Lila and Elena are defining for themselves who they are and who they want to be. They are similar in many ways yet so different, and the paths they choose both bind them together and force them apart.

Ferrante/Goldstein does a masterful job of describing the everyday lives of academics and non-academics in ways that are generous and honest. I really felt like I know the characters and how their circumstances have impacted their perspectives and life choices. As was the case with the previous novel, the writing style is a bit disjointed and oddly-phrased at times. However, as was the case with My Brilliant Friend, I devoured The Story of a New Name.  I finished all 471 pages by August 10th.

Book 3: Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay

I had a much easier time acquiring a copy of the third Neapolitan Novel, and began reading it on August 28th.  Continuing directly from The Story of a New Name, the setting of this book shifts back and forth between Naples and Florence.  Taking place in the late 1960's through the 1970's, the girls age from their late twenties into their thirties.  Lila gets involved in the changing political climate of Naples, especially organized labor. There are instances of intense violence between the fascists, communists, organized crime henchmen, and other active political groups who clash about how best to regulate and accommodate the working class. As Lila becomes involved physically in the revolution, Elena participates in a more academic and literary capacity.

I have to admit that this was my least favorite of the quartet, mainly because, in this book more so than in the previous two, Lila and Elena's friendship is quite strained. For most of Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay, they don't communicate at all. The conflict between them is just like what can happen between any friends who don't live close and lose some of the intimacy they once shared. There are jealousies and misunderstandings on both sides, and their fortunes seem to wax and wane on opposite frequencies.  Again, as soon as I started reading this book, I had difficulty doing anything else.  I finished the 418 pages by August 30th.  

Book 4: The Story of the Lost Child

As summer wound down, I reached the last of the Neapolitan Quartet, The Story of the Lost Child.  I started reading on September 3rd, and finished the last of the 473 pages on September 9th. 
The Story of the Lost Child picks up right where the penultimate novel left off. We continue to follow friends Lila and Elena as they, the city of Naples, and the country of Italy grow and change from the late 1960's/early 1970's through to the mid-2000's. The girls, now women and mothers, age from their mid-thirties through to their sixties.  There is so much action, romance, political intrigue, violence, and tragedy within this installment that it made my head spin.

It's difficult to describe much of the plot, because what happens in this book has been influenced by events and conversations that came before. What the author does masterfully, in this novel and throughout the entire Neapolitan Quartet, is to explore the development and modernization of Naples through the lives of Lila and Elena. Elena continues her career as a writer, and has to juggle it with being a wife and primary caretaker for her children. At different times she lives in Naples, Florence, and Turin. She also takes advantage of opportunities to travel abroad, thereby interacting with many different people with different social, political, cultural, and economic ideas. Lila, however, remains exclusively in Naples and bears witness to the corruption, violence, and poverty that continues to oppress the residents of the neighborhood. She also struggles with motherhood and maintaining her own identity.

Most of the characters are involved in major Italian political movements of the time. There are Fascists, Communists, Christian Democrats, and many other groups. In addition to political shifts, there is the introduction and proliferation of technology in Naples, especially computers. As the title would suggest, there is a child who becomes lost from her family.  This tragedy sets a certain trajectory in motion that has wide-reaching effects for all of the characters.

Remembering that the entire Neapolitan Quartet is essentially one long work being written by Elena, in her later years, to explore and revisit her lifelong friendship with Lila, it makes sense that the final installment would be the most dramatic and fast-paced. Those events are the most recent, and therefore the most easily remembered. Also, the main characters are now in their middle-to-late adulthood, so the complexities of life are more familiar and ingrained in daily life.

Immigration is a topic that comes up only in near the end of the story. One of the things Elena notices on her return trips to Naples is the influx of non-Europeans into the city, and especially her neighborhood. Instead of improving the situation, it seems to her that the neighborhood is incorporating these migrants into its already violent ways of life.

The novel ends where My Brilliant Friend began, which makes for a pleasingly circular narrative throughout the Neapolitan Quartet. There is an epilogue that reintroduces some symbolism from the first novel, which in my opinion gave a satisfying ending to this saga.

And so...

Did I enjoy reading almost 1,700 pages about the coming-of-age of Elena, Lila, and Naples?  Absolutely!   Although there were some challenges with the language, I found the stories to be completely engrossing.

Do I have Ferrante Fever?  No.  The novels were wonderful, but certainly not the best books I've ever read.

Would I re-read the Neapolitan Novels?  Yes, but only in the heat of summertime.  Because southern Italy has a strong Mediterranean climate, and therefore lots of hot weather, it wouldn't feel proper to read the books during any other season.  I also expect that, as is the case with most books that I re-read, I would find more to appreciate the second time around with Elena and Lila.

Was all the buzz about these books merited?  No and yes.  There is a blurb on the cover of The Story of a New Name that compares Elena Ferrante to Jane Austen.  I'm not sure I'd come around to the same comparison.  Ferrante certainly has a lot to say about the social, cultural, and political landscape of Naples in specific and Italy in general, but I don't think her points were expressed as sharply and clearly as Jane Austen's were.  I can certainly see why people hold the Neapolitan Quartet up as a bastion of feminist writing.  I cannot think of any other works of literature whose focus is the long term relationship between two women.  The exploration of the Elena, Lila, and the other women characters' responses to the norms of what was expected of them in their sphere was refreshing and empowering, and at times disheartening.  The narrative gives a nuanced voice to the chorus of women from poor, working class neighborhoods whose stories are rarely, if ever, told.

And about those book covers

The vast majority of criticism about these four books revolves around the images on the Europa Editions covers.  They feature pastel colors and beaches, with all of the subjects turned away from the camera.  Images such as these are closely associated with women-focused genre fiction, which is typically assumed to be of lesser literary merit and quality than other forms of writing.  The Atlantic published an article about the covers here, which explores the discrepancy between Ferrante's covers and her content.  Suffice it to say that the images were chosen intentionally, and are perhaps not as dire as you might first think.



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