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3.91 AVERAGE
3.91 AVERAGE
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Loveable characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
ce n’est pas à mes yeux le meilleur roman d’Elena Ferrante — je me suis souvent ennuyée —, mais sa plume reste très belle et je suis toujours impressionnée par cette manière qu’elle a de créer des personnages féminins dont la pyschologie est aussi complexe que fascinante !
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
A mix
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
challenging
dark
emotional
sad
medium-paced
A dark, emotional read if you can't tell by the cover. I liked this work by Ferrante better than My Brilliant Friend; the writing was elegant and so very visceral, with the kids and family dog aspect being interesting accompaniment to the main story
emotional
inspiring
reflective
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
No
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
emotional
sad
tense
medium-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
emotional
reflective
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
Character
Strong character development:
Yes
Loveable characters:
Yes
Diverse cast of characters:
No
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes
sad
tense
fast-paced
This book gutted me. It’s the rage, the grief, the loss of sense. The visceral, terrifying unravelling of a woman who has just been left — and not quietly.
Olga is a wife and mother who, one ordinary afternoon, is told by her husband that he’s leaving her. No big fight, no drama. He simply walks out. What follows is a descent into abandonment so raw and unfiltered I genuinely had to take breaks to breathe. Ferrante doesn’t just write emotions — she drags them out, bloodied and howling, into the light.
At first, Olga tries to hold it together. She won’t become the poverella, the sad, mad, abandoned woman she once watched fall apart as a child. But oh God, she does. She curses. She forgets to feed the dog. She lashes out at her kids. She rages. She loses the run of herself. She becomes that woman. And through it all, we’re trapped with her — in the home, in her fevered mind, in the unbearable weight of being a woman undone.
Reading this in Italian was its own kind of immersion. Ferrante’s language is precise and brutal, elegant and furious. Her sentences cut right to the bone. There were moments I had to pause and sit with what she was saying about marriage, motherhood, and how women are viewed when they break. The shame. The gossip. The fury that gets dismissed as hysteria.
I haven’t lived Olga’s life — I amn’t married, I’ve no children — but I’ve been in a relationship that pulled me apart and left me in pieces. I think most of us probably have. That hot-cold madness of thinking you’re grand one day, then sobbing over the crumbs of your old life the next? Yeah. That I recognised.
This is a hard book. Uncompromising, but utterly unforgettable. Ferrante forces us to look at female pain not as something poetic or palatable, but as something raging, chaotic, and real.
A stunning, scorching read that burns through the layers of love, identity and survival. Eccezionale!
Olga is a wife and mother who, one ordinary afternoon, is told by her husband that he’s leaving her. No big fight, no drama. He simply walks out. What follows is a descent into abandonment so raw and unfiltered I genuinely had to take breaks to breathe. Ferrante doesn’t just write emotions — she drags them out, bloodied and howling, into the light.
At first, Olga tries to hold it together. She won’t become the poverella, the sad, mad, abandoned woman she once watched fall apart as a child. But oh God, she does. She curses. She forgets to feed the dog. She lashes out at her kids. She rages. She loses the run of herself. She becomes that woman. And through it all, we’re trapped with her — in the home, in her fevered mind, in the unbearable weight of being a woman undone.
Reading this in Italian was its own kind of immersion. Ferrante’s language is precise and brutal, elegant and furious. Her sentences cut right to the bone. There were moments I had to pause and sit with what she was saying about marriage, motherhood, and how women are viewed when they break. The shame. The gossip. The fury that gets dismissed as hysteria.
I haven’t lived Olga’s life — I amn’t married, I’ve no children — but I’ve been in a relationship that pulled me apart and left me in pieces. I think most of us probably have. That hot-cold madness of thinking you’re grand one day, then sobbing over the crumbs of your old life the next? Yeah. That I recognised.
This is a hard book. Uncompromising, but utterly unforgettable. Ferrante forces us to look at female pain not as something poetic or palatable, but as something raging, chaotic, and real.
A stunning, scorching read that burns through the layers of love, identity and survival. Eccezionale!