The first of Ferrante’s Neapolitan quartet narrates the beginning of Elena and Lila, two girls growing up in a poor neighborhood of Naples. Those were the only things I knew for sure when I started the book. Everything else caught me by surprise.

Ferrante begins by explaining the dynamics of the neighborhood with a guide to the families. I skipped over it, thinking it was unimportant. Throughout the novel, I went back to the first two pages at least 17 times, confused as to the number of names and relations that are present throughout the story. Alfonso, Antonio, Pasquale, Enzo, Stefano… so many Italian names. However, Ferrante executes this addition of characters beautifully. When a lot of authors include side characters as a throwaway feature, she adds just enough so that even they have a background, a story, a motivation, a place in the plot, but not so much that they overwhelm the stardom of the main characters, but really, of Lila.

That’s the thing with this book. The story is narrated by Elena, who adores Lila and idolizes everything she does. We get the impression that she lives through Lila, but Ferrante clears this up. Elena lives for Lila, not through her. This is crucial to understand their dynamic and to be able to ease into the book. Although it starts slow, it sets up the rest of the story perfectly, and by the time they’re 13, the story is so full of events and details that it feels like you’re experiencing a Neapolitan adolescence alongside Elena and Lila. Ferrante’s teenage descriptions feel rustic but still relevant. Even though the interactions might not be the same, the feelings are. The inadequacy, the insecurity, the excitement. It’s all there, magnified by a clandestine setting.

There’s a force added to the novel due to the Italian cultural backdrop. The characters are intense, the events are serious, the feelings and words are heavy. Even when Elena and Lila are children, the story feels extremely adult. There’s an undertone to everything that I still haven’t completely decoded. My Brilliant Friend is a strange balance between peace and war. It felt biblical, epistolic. The diction is calming and constant, even when the characters are going through their worst moments. I enjoyed this because there was no doubt of feelings coming through, breaking the narration—no narrator seeing red and subsequently ruining the black and white filter with a brick colored screen. Because of the first person point of view, even Elena admits her true feelings, never making the reader feel misguided. The book is a sort of in medias res, since it starts with Elena reflecting on their friendship years after they met.

There was a plot twist though, or at least for me. If you can even call it a plot twist. It was more like something clicked, and it made so much sense it made me cry even though it was the opposite of sad. The feeling evoked there is what I felt while reading—a mix of melancholy (even though I hate the word) but longing. I felt welcomed in the conflict. Even when writing this review, I feel like I’m dragging my words, trudging through years of baggage. I finished the book two days ago. It left me with a beautiful feeling though, so don't let my weird writing keep you from reading this. I'm actually so enthusiastic about it, I’m near raving. Ugh now I hate myself because I didn't give this book justice. Just ignore my heavy feeling coming through right now and know that it found a spot in my top 5 books of all time. That’s how good it was. Please please read.

Riqui