When I first read Ferrante for a review I wrote in 2013, the freshness of her voice and level of her mastery blew me away. I teach Italian literature for a living and have a doctorate in the subject, but I had never read anyone like her before—and yet her unique prose, humming with intelligence, reminded me of some the very greats in the nation’s history. The novel features Ferrante’s exquisite patience in building up a story brick by brick, making us feel as though we’re observing life itself on the page, in all its chaos—until suddenly and organically this mess coalesces into something unexpectedly beautiful, taking our breath away just as minutes earlier it had seemed to rob us of all hope.
