A review by lgiegerich
My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante

3.0

I spent most of the book exasperated, & I'm not sure still why this is such a phenomenon. (Is it the insight into an Italian woman's mind? I suppose this is maybe rare in Italian/Neapolitan literature.) I don't care for the style/translation, I can't tell which is bothering me. But the last 100 pages or so got better, & I feel compelled to continue? Puzzling.