It has been too long between Ferrantes … and beach holidays but this week I’ve been lucky enough to indulge in both.
After reading The Brothers Karamazov over what seemed like eight months, I’m absolutely loving Elena Ferrante’s The Lying Life of Adults.
Set in Naples, just like the glorious Neapolitan series, this also has a similar sensuousness to the other Ferrante books I have read.
It follows a girl on the cusp of adulthood who is grappling with her relationship with her parents, her friends, her violent and brittle aunty and the boys and men who stare at her body too intently.
Throughout the novel, there is a sense of latent violence, reflecting the volatility and unpredictability of young adulthood, as children become teens and enter the sometimes disappointing, deceptive world of adults.
I’m not sure if it’s just that I’m so happy to be done with Dostoyevsky, but I can’t put this down.
Or perhaps it is the irresistible combination of sun and sand after such a challenging year that makes me so happy to have this book in my hands.