Fiction — Kindle edition. Translated from the Italian by Ann Goldstein. Europa Editions , 2012. 331 pgs. Purchased.
Back in December, several members of my book club met over brunch to swap books and suggest titles for the coming year. When I threw this title into the hat, I mentioned I felt as though I was the only one who hadn’t read Ferrante’s four-part Neapolitan Novels series. A number of members chimed in saying they hadn’t yet read this title — let alone the entire series — despite seeing the book front and center at nearly every bookstore and the book landed a spot on our list of selections for the year.
This coming of age story actually begins two years before the novel’s publication data with sixty-something Elena Greco receiving a call from the son of her childhood best friend announcing that Lila — short for Raffaella — has disappeared. More than disappeared, she’s systematically removed all evidence of her existence, including family photographs. Elena is unconcerned about her friend’s disappearance; she’s expected Lila to pull a stunt like this. Yet the phone call drudges up old memories, and the focus of the novel shifts to Elena and Lila’s friendship as the two grow up in a vibrant yet poor neighborhood of Naples in the 1950s.
Their friendship is predicated on competition and rivalry. Elena, a bright student in her own right, is shocked at Lila’s ability to learn the most difficult subjects without diligently paying attention the way Elena does, and she pushes herself both to keep up with classmate and to get to know Lila better. Both girls capture the attention and concern of a teacher, who pushes each girl’s parents to allow their daughter to continue her education.
“Did she want to drag us out of ourselves, tear off the old skin and put on a new one, suitable for what she was inventing?”
Yet the combination of poverty and a prevailing culture where women are expected to become wives and mothers splits the girls up: Elena’s parents allow her to continue her education while Lila’s insist she remain at home assisting with the family’s shoe-making business. But Lila refuses to be left behind borrowing four books at a time from a local lending library with her parents’ and brother’s cards and teaching herself both Latin and Greek. This fact startles Elena and pushes her to study even harder in order to prove that she does, in fact, belong at the high school Lila was forbidden to attend. She cannot allow Lila to “win” their (unspoken) competition.
The prevailing neighborhood culture, however, eventually catches up with the two friends, and their attention turns to boys. Lila, a late bloomer, dedicates much of her time trying to create the perfect shoe in hopes of salvaging her and her brother’s future, and much of her attention to boys is actually fixated on how a desire to escape poverty begins to condemn her brother to a life of poverty and crime in the Camorra. Elena struggles with how her education and her appearance — neither of which Lila is “plagued” with — casts her as both desirable — boys pay her money to see her boobs — and undesirable to the boys of their community.
While the two friends do not directly compete for the same boy, rivalry begins to build over the pace of their physical development and and how each young woman — the novel ends around their sixteenth birthdays — must respond to a how the machismo culture of Naples leads males in their community — Camorra or not Camorra — to believe they whatever they want of girls like her and Lila.
Much of the praise I have seen for Ferrante’s series is focused on the authentic depiction of how female friendships shift and change over the years, and I would second much of this praise. I particularly appreciate how competition bonds the girls together over the ten or so years covered in the first novel, and how this competition is allowed to shift and change as the girls age.
Yes, competition over male attention comes into play at the end of the novel, but it is not the driving force for the entirety of their friendship (to date) nor is the sole source of competition in their teenage years. Elena is just as upset that Lila is learning Greek faster than her as she is that Lila has a boyfriend while Elena does not.
And yet I found the novel did not entirely live up to the hype for me. The story — or, rather my attention — petered out during the second half of the novel, and I grew frustrated though the final quarter when it became clear Ferrante did not have a conclusion in mind for the tale. The prologue set in 2010 is a, obviously, a clue that the story isn’t over, but the necessary blend of conclusion for the novel to standalone and cliffhanger for the series to continue from the point of its conclusion with the two girls facing womanhood at sixteen is missing. As such, my desire to continue on with the series lessened as I reached the final chapters of this installment.