The Story of a New Name by Elena Ferrante, translated by Ann Goldstein

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A fairy tale is essentially a form of entertainment. The essence lies in the notion that evil and magic are real and tangible, and that a happy ending where love conquers all is a certainty, an expectation, a reality. We are left wondering what happens to the prince and princess after they are wed and the final curtain of “happily ever after” falls. Do they actually get to live a life free of hardships and challenges, or does their fairytale existence get tainted by the harshness of everyday life?
Elena Ferrante’s captivating novel The Story of a New Name exposes the reality behind the facade of princess happiness for two young women, Elena Greco and Lina Cerullo, as they strive to attain their own version of a fairytale ending. The book is characterized by a skillful narrative pace, a delicate blend of poetic prose, biting wit, and suspenseful twists and turns. What is truly remarkable is how the story manages to grip onto the idea of inherent fantasy, as Elena and Lina pursue their princes and realize their dreams amidst a backdrop of disillusionment.
The Story of a New Name is the second installment in Ferrante’s expansive series of Neapolitan Novels. The saga commenced with the highly acclaimed My Brilliant Friend, set in the working-class Naples of the 1950s. Elena, the novel’s narrator recounting events from adulthood, meets Lina in first grade. Competing for the attention of boys and teachers, they are polar opposites who blur the boundaries between them only to redraw them just as swiftly. Lina, fiery yet beautiful, is unable to continue her education and marries at sixteen, while Elena, more intellectually inclined than conventionally attractive, secures a spot at a prestigious high school. The question of which one of them is the eponymous “brilliant” friend remains ambiguous, as each admires the aspects of the other’s life they lack, with one longing for the freedom of education and the other yearning for the security of marriage. The novel concludes dramatically when Lina, ensconced in her marital life, faces a harsh reminder of the sacrifices made for “love.”
The second book, which can be enjoyed as a standalone piece, delves deeper into the intertwined stories of the friends. The “story of a new name” marks Lina’s transformation into Signora Carracci, the polished wife of the grocer Stefano; the woman who betrays her best friend by being involved with the man Elena loves and bearing his child; the mercurial mother who tolerates Stefano’s mistress residing in their home. In essence, she embodies the image both girls admired in their youth: though they aspired to be wives, they always empathized with the lovers, who appeared more spirited, more rebellious, and above all, more modern to them. Lina manages to straddle both worlds, and through reading the notebooks entrusted to her, so does Elena.
Just as Elena begins her ascent, she admits that without Lina, “time passes calmly and significant events glide through the years like suitcases on an airport conveyor belt; you pick them up, jot them down, and it’s done.” In contrast, with Lina, “The conveyor belt slows, speeds up, veers off course abruptly, derails. The suitcases tumble off, burst open, spilling their contents everywhere. Her possessions intermingle with mine.” It is this chaos that piques our interest, and even Elena acknowledges that without Lina, she is merely an “almost.”
While the title of the novel focuses on Lina’s journey to acquiring a new identity, it also sheds light on Elena’s transformation. The details of Elena’s adolescence, even the more scandalous aspects, find their way into a novel she writes during her studies at the prestigious Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, where she meets her fiancé. She presents him with a draft of her work on her graduation night; his mother reads and admires it, sends it to a publisher, and the book is published the following spring. For Elena’s illiterate parents, her achievement is a source of immense pride, surpassing even her ability to become a good wife, particularly when she decides to retain her maiden name, Greco, on her book covers after marriage. Thus, similar to Lina, Elena also undergoes a metamorphosis by acquiring a new identity that bolsters her reputation, but unlike Lina, she has the choice not to be confined within a marriage.
It is worth noting the additional layer of significance in the act of naming at the authorial level: Elena’s story is penned by a woman identified as Elena, who is notoriously private and rumored to be a man. For a narrative that delves into the nuances of female friendship and the complex yearning for independence to be crafted by an author of the opposite gender would be commendable albeit perhaps slightly perplexing. Yet it would align perfectly with “Ferrante’s” perception of storytelling: “I believe that once books are written, they no longer require their authors . . . True miracles are the ones whose creators remain anonymous.”