![]() ![]() That afternoon, reading the first book of the quartet, I was transported back to high school when I used to spend hours reading novels behind the old oak desk in my tiny room. Although my mom complained that it was her birthday and not mine, in my defence, I had travelled 10 hours to be home and felt like I deserved it (a terrible excuse, I know). But moments after my mom opened her gift, I was back in my room devouring the book. I had it wrapped, wrote a little birthday note, and went home. Could have it been the plot? Or perhaps the words the writer used to express sophisticated emotions? Or the characters themselves? The incipit of the novel was so powerful, so hypnotic that I felt mesmerised. Further intrigued by the synopsis, I read a few pages from My Brilliant Friend in the local bookstore.Īt the time, I did not know anything about the book, and I only vaguely knew the writer from the movie adaptation, by the Italian director Mario Martone, of her first novel L’amore molesto (Troubling Love ). ![]() I was looking for a present for my mother, and the book cover caught my attention. I still recall the moment I bumped into the first volume of the quartet a few years ago. Unless you’ve been living on the moon, you must have heard of My Brilliant Friend, the series of four books by the utterly talented–and mysterious!–Italian writer Elena Ferrante. ![]()
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