My Brilliant Friend IV - The Story of the Lost Child, by Elena Ferrante

I listened to the adaptation of The Wonderful Friend on Crave. Beyond all the emotions, mostly unpleasant, that it evoked in me, it made me realize that I hadn't read the last volume of the saga. So here I am.

Summary

This volume covers most of the lives of the two friends: from their 30s to their 60s. I don't dare tell you much more, because this is the kind of book where you want the surprise. Suffice it to say that this is the densest tome of all, in every aspect. It is also, I think, my favorite.

Impressions

Watching the TV series, I realized how this book can be interpreted in all sorts of ways. I had read the first three volumes with great pleasure; I had found it hard, certainly, but above all poetic, calm and beautiful. I also found Elena complex and endearing, like many other characters.

This is not at all what the series is about. It is very violent, both physically and psychologically, with multiple graphic rape scenes, and the characters are pretty much all unsympathetic. And yet, as far as I could tell, the story is in every way unchanged. Except the point of view. And that's the magic of literature.

That said, let's get back to the book. From the beginning, I was a bit disoriented: I had the impression that this fourth volume was much less well written than the others. I found the sentences? more childish? I didn't really recognize the simple yet poetic writing of the other three volumes. It seemed like it had been written more quickly. And yet, I checked, it is the same translator who is behind this whole saga. Maybe it's just me, I don't know. It's a mystery.

Despite this, I think it is my favorite tome. The most striking and the most moving, certainly. And I had high expectations: the book is presented as a "masterful" conclusion, "in apotheosis" to the saga praised everywhere.

The Story of the Lost Child is, like all the other volumes, a series of horrible dramas that I let you discover. It culminates with the drama of dramas, which, if we were jaded by the horror, wakes us up with a slap in the face. Then came the end, too quickly for my taste. The novel doesn't end with a perfect loop, and at the time I said to myself: "Is that all?", a little distraught. Twenty minutes later, I was in tears, feeling like I was five years older. I don't think I'll ever forget this novel.

For more information...

Did you know that Elena Ferrante is a pen name? No one is sure of the identity of the author behind it. Apparently, she confirmed in a written interview that she was a woman, a mother. But Italian researchers in computational linguistics, after quite concrete studies, concluded that it was more or less certain that it was a man called Domenico Starnone. Let's just say that these kinds of questions are right up my alley.