For fans of Ferrante's work, this book gives insights into
the themes she has explored, as well as some recommendations of authors whom
she finds inspiring and formative.
For readers who are new to Ferrante, this correspondence demonstrates
the thoughtful and precise way she utilizes language. Her writing style isn't particularly poetic or fluid, but is
incredibly well-crafted. She puts
so much thought and care into every phrase, and that is part of why I find it
so addicting to read.
Because this book includes transcripts of decades’-worth of
interviews, there are some recurring questions. The most frequent one regards the author's identity. It is widely known that Elena Ferrante
is a pen name, and the user of that nom de plume has taken great pains to
ensure that her true identity is concealed. She does not take part in any in-person or audio interviews,
and requires all correspondence to be funneled through her editors. Because of this, the media (especially
the Italian literary media) have made it their mission to "uncover"
the true identity of Elena Ferrante.
As recently as October, 2016 (long after Frantumaglia was published) an
Italian article was published that purports to have uncovered Elena Ferrante's
true identity, going so far as to obtain (through what means..?) financial
documents that show unusually large transactions between a publisher, an author,
and a translator - to give weight to the claim. In what universe do people care so much about the identity
of an author that they would go to such extremes? To what extent is an artist allowed privacy and the choice
of a non-public life?
This cult of discovery is troubling on many levels. First, once one releases a work of art
into the world, is that person then obligated to have any further involvement
in the work? There seems to exist,
in some perspectives, an umbilical connection between a work and its creator, that
the personality branding of the person who wrote the book must carry some
weight on the book itself. I also
wonder how much attention there would be if the pen name of the author was
masculine - Emilio Ferrante, let’s say.
There runs an undercurrant of sexism here – suggesting that this writer
must be revealed because it is so difficult to believe a woman capable of
creating such a vivid and expansive world. In a culture where fame is seen as the pinnacle of a career, for
someone to eschew such recognition may be difficult to understand.
Over and over again, interviewers make comparisons between her
and famous Italian authors, and ask if she and those other authors are the same
person. She never answers these
questions, nor gives any particular details that might clarify any part of her
identity. In fact, she, at one
point, tells her editors that she may follow writer Italo Calvino's lead and freely
answer questions…but not with the truth.
That is part of what is so interesting about Frantumaglia - you can try
to read the personal into her answers, but ultimately what matters is the
creative process and its products.
Wondering whether characters, descriptions, or plots in any of her
stories are autobiographical is a waste of energy. She believes wholeheartedly that the author's job comes to
an end once the writing is complete.
It shouldn't matter who the author is, as long as the story explores some
greater truth.
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