Catching up on Ferrante

Yeah, no point holding out. Better get on to the bandwagon. Heard about the Daft Punk of the literary world: Elena Ferrante, through a friend who reads like I eat ūüôā This was about 2015 year-end.

Intrigued as I was I still had to trawl through my list. Which I did. And then I didn’t. For Ferrante. To figure out if the Neapolitan novels¬†are actually that good or is it that the anonymity of the author (whom many suppose to be actually an authoress “for only a woman can understand so deeply the nuances of female friendship” or some such thing said The¬†Guardian article on the same) that’s the best thing about these books?

Well, to me, so far, it’s the latter. However.

Here’s a passage that tells me Neapolitan novels (set in the 60s I guess) and much of Indian reality have something in common.

“Then why should your sister, who is a girl, go to school?”

The matter almost always ended with a slap in the face for Rino, who,one way or another, even if he didn’t intend to, had displayed a lack of respect toward his father. The boy, without crying, apologised in a spiteful tone of voice.¬†

Well,¬†I looked up Elena Ferrante and up came a message board ‘FerranteFever’, a website in ‘her’ name and a Goodreads profile. BTW, Wiki knows she was born in 1943.

It quotes Ferrante: ‘Books, once they are written, have no need of their authors.’

Can’t argue with that. I guess FerranteFever is yet to grip me.

 

 

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