As I was growing up, I heard many stories about my grandmother on my mother’s side. They talked about her small ears, how she managed to feed a large family of six kids with just a small cabinet of groceries, and her prized possession, a gold charm bracelet. These tales often fuel our enduring fascination with motherhood, despite the challenges and hardships it can bring.
Elena Ferrante, especially in her Neapolitan Novels series and its final chapter, The Story of the Lost Child, recently recognized as one of the Top Ten Books of the Year by The New York Times, delves into a different aspect of motherhood and female relationships. Through the lifelong friendship of Elena and Lila from the mid-1900s onwards, Ferrante presents characters who challenge conventional notions of life’s purpose. These are not your typical mothers focused on domestic duties. Elena and Lila embody raw sensuality, a thirst for revenge, and an unwavering loyalty that resonates globally. Ferrante, rather than advocating for a complete upheaval of the male-dominated society, argues that women find strength in the complexities of femininity, a belief mirrored in her own anonymity as a writer.
In the fourth installment of the series, the trials and tribulations of Elena and Lila may no longer shock readers. From enduring various hardships in their youth to facing mafia violence, drug trafficking in their neighborhood, and the unveiling of affairs and hidden children in their forties, the drama reaches new heights in The Story of the Lost Child. Ferrante’s succinct chapters foster a fast-paced narrative, mirroring Elena’s frenetic mind as she narrates the story of their friendship meticulously, capturing every emotion and drawing focus to these distinctive, unforgettable lives.
Motherhood serves as a recurring motif anchoring the narrative. Elena and Lila inhabit roles as mothers, daughters, and sisters, while their friendship constantly teeters on a delicate balance. Their parallel pregnancies highlight contrasting experiences: a difficult journey for one and a natural progression for the other. Following the birth of their daughters, Tina and Imma, Lila paradoxically exudes maternal affection for both girls, while Elena becomes engrossed in her writing pursuits. As Elena grapples with her mother’s illness, a newfound comfort envelops her, transforming her previous irritation towards her mother’s physical touch into appreciation.
For Lila, the struggles of motherhood culminate in a pivotal moment that shapes the novel’s climax and title. This event prompts Elena to navigate the complexities of their friendship both in her written account and the other books she authors within the novel. The “lost child” symbolizes not only a literal mystery left unsolved in the narrative but also encapsulates the women’s lost childhoods, sacrificed in their journey to adulthood and motherhood.
Lila’s inability to fulfill her aspirations outside of motherhood leads her to a harrowing realization, where she, once vibrant and fearless, diminishes herself, haunted by the absence of an alternate identity. Elena’s efforts to restore her friend’s identity become a final act of defiance and a testament to her pursuit of equilibrium between them, a balance that eludes her in real life. The resolution may not be flawless, but it authentically concludes this gritty, turbulent novel, echoing Elena’s belief that real life leans towards ambiguity and obscurity, rather than clarity. These novels do not aim to reclaim what’s lost but rather pay homage to the profound essence of loss itself.
