I’m two books deep in the Neapolitan Novels, but I had to interrupt my trajectory for two reasons:
- I needed to read this story before seeing the new (read: 2021) film adaptation
- I need to see the film in order to solidify all of my (mostly negative) thoughts about the Oscar nominations, haha
The Lost Daughter takes place during an extended beach vacation of a woman named Lena. She has two grown daughters, an ex-husband in Canada, and a sturdy-but-not-groundbreaking career in academia. While on the beach she is drawn to a young Neapolitan woman and her daughter.
Next? Everything flies off the rails in the most delicious Ferrante-esque way.
I am never going to be a mother, yet I am drawn magnetically to Ferrante’s many portraits on what it means to be a mother. The joy, the horror, the smothering weight, the liquid desire- I can’t do it- and I won’t. I appreciate that I see both sides in Ferrante’s work. I appreciate that she leaves no stone unturned, no note unfolded- and especially in this case- no doll uninspected. Her writing is elevated and visceral. You can taste every scene that she creates. You can feel every slap, every accidental touch, and every betrayal.
I am obsessed.
Of course, I left with probably the incorrect final message as I added a vintage hat pin to my shopping cart on Etsy.