A review by betttyy8
My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante

adventurous challenging dark emotional reflective sad tense medium-paced
  • Strong character development? Yes
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? No
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

5.0

 
“It was an old fear, a fear that has never left me: the fear that, in losing pieces of her life, mine lost intensity and importance.” 
 
Elena Ferrante, in the first of her four Neapolitan novels, introduces us to the relationship of her two protagonists, Lenù (Elena) and Lila. The story of these two young girls is told by Elena in her 60s, looking back over their friendship after her lifelong friend’s son calls to tell her that Lila has disappeared. From her recollections, she relates, in this first instalment, the story of how these two girls meet and the push and pull of their friendship through their childhood and adolescence. The tale reflects not just on the girls, but on postwar Italy, and the restrictive impact of poverty and traditional gender roles on the directions of their lives. 

I borrowed this book from my partner’s mother, who is Italian and who loves this series. I was a little nervous – that anxiety of potentially not liking something that someone you care about really likes. Luckily, Ferrante’s work is so piercingly honest and beautifully written, I needn’t have worried. It did not take long for me to be completely sucked into the world of these two young girls in 1950s Naples. I was captivated and by the end I felt a deep connection to the story and to these women. It was one of those books that, once I'd finished it, I couldn’t pick up another book for a few days. I needed to sit with this one for just a moment longer. 

What I loved most about this book was the examination of female friendships. I don’t feel there are enough genuine and unflinching depictions of these fundamental relationships that often shape a part of who we are as women. Ferrante beautifully moves through the initial almost infatuation of a new friend and the way that can turn to competition and agitation as you compare yourself to them. Telling the story through Lenù’s honest narration, reflecting on her own emotions now as an adult, allows us to see and to understand the ebb and flow as Lenù in turn admires and admonishes Lila without ever actually losing any love for her. I adored the way that Lenù articulates those complicated emotions of getting frustrated with a friend and wanting to distance from them but ultimately being unable because the connection and everything you’ve been through together is too much to just walk away. 

As well as these emotions as children, Ferrante follows them through the move to adolescence and how all of these feelings and complications are compounded by their changing bodies, boys, and the reality of their circumstances. Particularly, the ease with which Ferrante ties their friendship to the society around them is masterful. Part of the struggle between Lenù and Lila is that while both of them are brilliant (as the title clues us to) only one of them really has the ability and the means to go on to further schooling and the way that this alters and impacts their relationship to each other. Although we do not get the perspective of Lila herself, Lenù’s insight as the narrator and as the closest and dearest friend – even at the worst points in their friendship – paints a picture of the way that Lila forges herself in light of her circumstances, how she has to give up her intellectual pursuits in order to secure her and her family’s future, and how this dims the light of a rebellious and free thinking young girl. 

Weaved through this book as well is a reflection on Italian society post World War II. A large part of this is the gender politics. There are some harsh and confronting moments of male violence (both physical and sexual) against women and this is not just accepted, but expected. Women are ‘used’ to being beaten by fathers and by husbands. The pervasiveness of this is such that Ferrante rarely discusses it with any particular weight. It is clear from particular moments of violence that she is intent on conveying the seriousness of this problem, but the way that she refers to the everyday violences and violations conveys the sheer normalcy of these experiences for women in this environment. The violence between the men, which also features quite heavily, is linked to the wider historical context, with the sons of men of different political positions – communists and fascists – often duking it out. These are grudges that are inherited but the outward aggression of the sons speaks to the postwar generation’s rebellion against their parents and the violence they wreaked on the country and the world. 

The only thing I found at all frustrating was keeping track of quite a large cast of characters but that is helped immensely but the cast of characters in the front of the book, that clearly delineates who each person is and what their connections are. Other than that, I cannot praise and recommend this book more. The only reservation is that the descriptions of physical and sexual violence have very real potential to be triggering so if you are sensitive to that (I am and had to take time away from the book after one particular instance), then I would recommend proceeding with caution. 

Overall, a beautifully written, honest, and resonant portrayal of the complications of growing up as a woman and the importance and tension of young female friendships. 
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