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A review by wolfdan9
My Brilliant Friend by Elena Ferrante
5.0
As in all of my reviews: spoilers ahead.
“When there is no love, not only the life of people becomes sterile but the life of cities.”
“When there is no love, not only the life of people becomes sterile but the life of cities.”
My Brilliant Friend truly surprised me. Despite its acclaim and reputation, for a novel that's only about a decade old, I wasn't expecting such a perfectly written bildungsroman, that at once fulfills every criteria of a rich coming-of-age story and simultaneously explores, through the maturation of Elena, the crisis of a city and its people on the verge of a vile transformation, one that is in constant motion, that threatens the very character of the people it impacts, yet invisible to the eyes of its people, inexplicable, as it is to all civilizations on the verge of total change. But somehow, Ferrante convincingly captures the small moments of such a change and lets the reader put together the many pieces that she presents into a clear picture.
The inseparability of Elena's story and perspective from the destitution of the world around her is so solidly evident -- and so a purpose for Elena is so clearly illustrated -- that there is a mutual reinforcement of Elena's individual challenges by the challenges of her family, peers, and fellow citizen and vice versa. The lens from which Elena views her world is unimpeachably authentic. And, like Turgenev, Ferrante merely reports, rarely drawing conclusions on a scale grander than a personal one, about her perceptions of the way impoverished people live and are tempted, deceived, and ruined by money.
Not only does Ferrante demonstrate an unpretentious and sincere prose style, one that is steeped in the monumental influences of world literature (and referential and reverential toward it -- a touch of Turgenev here, a dash of Marquez there, etc.), she displays a psychological depth and profound understanding of the perceptions of youth. She paints scenes that are so realistic that they almost certainly must contain an element of autobiography. Yet what is so impressive about them is the universality of their imagery and themes; any reader can relate to elements of Elena's story, her jealousy, her insecurity and self-awareness, her sexual awakening, and her quest for understanding of self. Ferrante perfectly captures the changes of adolescence. How the mind transforms from a child’s to an adults — through love, the crushing realization that one’s dreams are impossible dreams, and the meaning we derive from comparisons to our peers.
The inseparability of Elena's story and perspective from the destitution of the world around her is so solidly evident -- and so a purpose for Elena is so clearly illustrated -- that there is a mutual reinforcement of Elena's individual challenges by the challenges of her family, peers, and fellow citizen and vice versa. The lens from which Elena views her world is unimpeachably authentic. And, like Turgenev, Ferrante merely reports, rarely drawing conclusions on a scale grander than a personal one, about her perceptions of the way impoverished people live and are tempted, deceived, and ruined by money.
Not only does Ferrante demonstrate an unpretentious and sincere prose style, one that is steeped in the monumental influences of world literature (and referential and reverential toward it -- a touch of Turgenev here, a dash of Marquez there, etc.), she displays a psychological depth and profound understanding of the perceptions of youth. She paints scenes that are so realistic that they almost certainly must contain an element of autobiography. Yet what is so impressive about them is the universality of their imagery and themes; any reader can relate to elements of Elena's story, her jealousy, her insecurity and self-awareness, her sexual awakening, and her quest for understanding of self. Ferrante perfectly captures the changes of adolescence. How the mind transforms from a child’s to an adults — through love, the crushing realization that one’s dreams are impossible dreams, and the meaning we derive from comparisons to our peers.
The major symbol in the novel, Lila and Rino’s shoes, embody the goodness — the “love” — of the people in the community. They’re a product of hard work, innovation, and family togetherness. Yet, they’re tainted by their inherent nature as a product. They’re sold as such, and become a vessel for Stefano, the wealthy young grocer, to win Lila’s heart and eventually betray her. The brilliant Lila (and as an extension of her greatness' influence, Elena as well) had been disillusioned by the glamour of wealth. While Elena acknowledges its crucial role in maintaining the foundation of the community, Lila is led astray by its overwhelming power. Ferrante shows, carefully but critically, that wealth is a necessary evil and an unavoidable and pervasive essence in the lives of everyone. And those who are captured by its influence seem destined for ruin. Yet those who live without it are ruined as well.
The power of Lila and Elena’s friendship is made evident by Ferrante’s deep understanding of scene writing. The girls are together in either person’s most tense or intense moments; or if they’re not, they share with each other and speculate about how and where to move forward. Even as the girls grow apart, with Elena adhering to her childish obedience to studies with Lila moves on toward womanhood and marriage, they are forever intertwined. They never waver in their love for each other, even as they go through bumps in their relationship attributable to their maturing personalities (and appearances). The depth of their friendship, and particularly of Elena's fixation with Lila and yearning to make sense of her brilliant mind, is simultaneously touching, raw, and relatable, as it highlights, more than Lila's personal greatness, Elena's own concept of self-understanding. She compares herself to the greatest person she knows, tries to unravel her, and use this image of her as a way to see into her own heart and discover who she is.
Throughout the novel, there is a foreboding feeling that Lila and Stefano’s seemingly perfect relationship, which has notably changed Lila’s personality, will fail due to the undercurrent of constant financial dealings on which the relationship is floating. The novel ends perfectly, with Stefano betraying Lila -- inviting her most hated person to their wedding (after agreeing explicitly to keep him out), and selling the shoes she worked painstakingly on to him. Ferrante perhaps views financial gain as the antithesis of love, a challenging desire to overcome, not necessarily because it is tempting, but because it is required to survive. Ferrante seems to demonstrate that it exists in a superlative form -- either we are very rich or very poor -- on either end of this spectrum people are destined to behave in such a way that moves them further in the direction they're already in.