The Princes of Pauper’s Pond, Lars Elling (translated by Don Bartlett)

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This post is part of a blog tour. Thank you to Random Things Tours and Orenda Books for providing me with a copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

As children, Arnstein and Truls were incredibly close. Their father, aware of the impending war that was coming, was keen that they learn survival skills and would leave them to fend for themselves in the forest for weeks at a time, never too far from home that they wouldn’t be able to seek help if they really needed it. Seventy years later and the brothers barely speak. They live directly next to each other, and silently argue every year when the apples drop, sweeping them from one side to the other. Arnstein’s grandson Filip is intrigued by what caused the rift and as the story unfolds gradually we are always aware that tragedy is not far off.

The narrative is split between 1912 and 1985 and we feel the shift in time. Arnstein and Truls grew up with the threat of war hanging over them but oblivious in their childhood of the horrors that lay ahead. They enjoy their time in the Norwegian forest, claiming their little kingdom and learning about the natural world. There are some quite grizzly scenes of animals being killed, and the horror of the boys when their traps work a little too well. There is an innocence and naivety about them, always tinged with a sadness, knowing that their closeness will be broken.

Through Filip’s eyes we see the strain of their estrangement, the stubbornness of both men to heal the rift. He is a teenager, on the cusp of leaving school and trying to work out the world for himself. An aspiring artist, we see his struggles as he strives for improvement, and the blunt honesty he receives from his elders. He must also come to terms with the realisation that his grandparents were once young and full of hopes and dreams themselves. Can he learn from their paths to find a more harmonious route through his own life?

Elling’s debut novel is frequently beautifully written, gently paced and meditative. It didn’t have me rushing back to it but it’s enjoyable once you have picked it up (except perhaps some of the more gruesome scenes, depending on your squeamishness). A thoughtful examination of family dynamics, trauma, and generational impact.

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The Story of the Lost Child, Elena Ferrante (translated by Ann Goldstein)

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The compelling conclusion to Ferrante’s stunning Neapolitan Quartet picks up where the previous book left off. Elena and Nino are in the midst of an affair and on the cusp of taking steps that make their relationship their primary one, leaving their spouses and children. The first sections of the novel are focused on this relationship and its implications, for Elena specifically. Eventually she moves back to the old neighbourhood in Naples and Lila becomes ever more present in her life. When they both fall pregnant around the same time their bond grows closer as they face the challenges of being mothers again at a later stage in life. Will the devastating loss of the eponymous child shake them beyond repair, and will we finally learn the reason for Lila’s disappearance as laid out in the first novel by Elena looking back on their lives?

Elena’s relationship with Nino is frustrating. He is clearly treating her badly, trying to have the best of both worlds, and yet she can’t make herself leave him for good. It is only quite late in the novel where she sees him clearly for the first time. When their baby is young and Pietro continues to be present in her life, trying to support her, Nino is jealous and makes her send him away. Of course, when Pietro goes Nino does not step up. He is selfish and jealous, self serving, and makes life difficult for her. Thankfully, she has Lila nearby able to help with her daughters, although this can be something of a mixed blessing. 

Her sense of competition with Lila never leaves her. Elena can’t let go of the feeling that Lila is better than her, more intelligent, a better writer. Elena is the successful writer, respected in intellectual circles, and yet that lack of confidence lingers. Lila is no doubt impressive, in this novel running a computer business. She is inquisitive and able to learn seemingly anything if she puts her mind to it. But she is also quick to anger and has been limited by her circumstances. This is perhaps what Elena fears most, the rage that must have built up having such a bright mind but not being allowed to use it to its full potential. Indeed, people in the neighbourhood come to see Lila as an alternative power to the Solaras, such is her influence. 

The neighbourhood remains a dangerous place and Elena uses it to feed her work. When her reflections are published she questions whether she should have taken so much from life. She attempts to obscure the real characters she’s writing about but is unsuccessful, and the publishers relish the look behind the curtain into a very different kind of life, making it central to the publicity around her book in a way that feels uncomfortable. We see also the neighbourhood through the eyes of her daughters, who have experienced the comfort and safety of other parts of Italy. Despite the challenges and her financial position allowing her to move away, she stays. Her and Lila’s lives become closely intertwined as they live in close proximity and their children form tight bonds. 

There are many times throughout the book where family relationships are discussed, Lila and Elena's role as mothers, wives and partners. Their changing approaches to motherhood and the devastation of a lost child, how a moment can change something fundamental in you, is examined. We see how Elena’s daughters react to having absent fathers, and how the involvement of Pietro and Nino seriously impacts their sense of self worth and confidence. We also see how they interact with their elders. Elena’s relationship with her former mother-in-law and her own mother and how their ageing and ill health helps shift her perspective. They may have difficult, sometimes judgmental relationships, but they are important, and when they are gone forever it leaves a hole that can’t be filled. 

At the heart of the novel, as always, is Elena and Lila. We see them at times reflect on their childhood behaviour, and continue to be cruel to each other. Elena makes difficult decisions about what she can and can’t include in her writing, jeopardising relationships with those who have been in her life for as long as she can remember. Lila, in her generosity in looking after Elena’s children to allow her the freedom to pursue her career also seems to use it as a weapon. Theirs is a complex, fraught friendship but one that is ultimately essential to both of them. As they age throughout the novel we see both their insecurities and their sense of how they are perceived by others develop. We see everything through the lens of Elena’s insecurities, or is there some of Lila in the telling of the story? A heightened version of many friendships perhaps, but one that will be familiar to people who have tried to retain friendships throughout their lives. The inherent jealousy and judgment, love and struggle is perhaps something people try not to face in their own relationships but more often than not will be there to some degree.

This is a powerful conclusion to a breathtaking series of books. Ferrante brings to life the Italy of the 1970s and 80s and what it means to be a woman during this period of change. Times may have changed but working mothers are likely to see much of their lives in the struggle Elena has balancing her family and professional life. A broad host of characters are managed skilfully across the four novels, bringing them to a satisfying conclusion without ever feeling tokenistic or overly neat. Terrible things happen and we are told about them in such a matter of fact way it hits hard but takes a moment for the full realisation to kick in. A truly remarkable series, and the final instalment does not disappoint.

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Read my thoughts of the first three books:

My Brilliant Friend

The Story Of A New Name

Those Who Leave And Those Who Stay

The Little Paris Bookshop, Nina George (trans. by Simon Pare)

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Jean Perdu owns a bookshop barge on the River Seine in Paris which he runs as a literary apothecary, prescribing books for customers, and on occasion refusing to sell ones he thinks are wrong for them. His eccentricities seem to extend to his home life, an apartment devoid of life and a locked room which houses the ghosts of his past. He may be perceptive when it comes to the needs of others, but struggles to heal his own heartbreak. A new neighbour, Catherine, is experiencing her own relationship breakdown, arriving without any furniture, and in need of comfort. She is nonetheless headstrong and encourages Perdu to engage, and ultimately to face the past he has been hiding from for the past twenty years. A couple of months earlier, Max Jordan, author of a viral book, moved in to the building, relieved that his fans haven’t found him, he spends his days trying to avoid being recognised as he battles with the struggle of what to write next. Soon he is embarking on a voyage to Provence in the book barge with Perdu, one seeking to find something that has long been lost, the other trying to find their future.

We catch glimpses of Perdu in his younger, more care-free days through the insertion of journal papers written by Manon, his former love. We see how he became the man he is and how his life could have been different. We never meet Manon in-person in the novel and so this is our main source of understanding of her as a person, outside of Perdu’s deep affection for her. Whatever our views on how their relationship played out, it would be hard not to feel the devastation of its ending, and the half life Perdu lived for so long as a result. His burgeoning relationship with Catherine is thoughtfully written, with both vulnerability and independence being shown. Intimacy with someone new is not something either of them have had to deal with for a long time and George writes the scenario realistically, with all the frustrations and misunderstandings of human interaction. There is also a maturity to their relationship, an understanding that they’ve lived full lives and therefore have unresolved feelings and baggage, and are able to give each other variously the space and support they need to work through them. 

This is a book about love, grief, and finding yourself. It’s also a love letter to books. Perdu understands the power of reading, and although his journey is deeply personal, he also hopes to discover the author of a book that touched his life profoundly, whose author writes under a pseudonym and whose true identity is unknown. For those looking for some literary healing too, the book closes with a list of books (an ‘emergency pharmacy’) for those in need, as well as some recipes for anyone whose tastebuds were tingling from the rich descriptions of food and drink throughout.

This is a lovely read, with a host of eccentric yet well-rounded characters. It deals with serious and sad topics but manages to retain an overall sense of lightness. It had sat on my bookshelf waiting to be read for quite some time and I finally picked it up in need of something light hearted and cheerful. It wasn’t exactly that, but it was beautiful, whimsical yet philosophical. I loved it. 

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Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay, Elena Ferrante

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As Elena prepares to marry a University professor and move with him to Florence, she returns to Naples where her recent book is the talk of the town. Lila is working in a sausage factory where conditions are far from ideal, teaching her son to read, and studying with her partner at night. Their lives feel alien to each other and there is resentment and regret. Whenever they talk there is an undercurrent of tension. It is rare for them to reveal all to each other and they cling to and abandon each other as their circumstances change. Elena is afraid something will happen which will prevent her from escaping the life Lila is still living, who is being worn down by it, beginning to doubt her own abilities which are being quashed by lack of opportunity and the lack of time to do anything but work hard to keep her family afloat. For Elena, her attempts to create a new life for herself make her distant with her family and she becomes unaware of what is happening in their lives.

She struggles with the reception of her book, allowing reviews to colour her own opinion of it, swinging with every contradictory opinion aired. Eventually, she realises the real challenge is everyone from her old life having read it and judged it to be vulgar. When she writes a second novel and shares it with her mother-in-law and editor she is disheartened to find that they consider it unpublishable. The content being based around her experiences it is not just a rejection of her work but of her and the past which she is forever trying to escape.

Her relationship with Pietro is not a supportive one. He leaves her to manage their small children and their home, roles which she feels make her lose her sense of self and evaporate her creativity. She doesn’t share her writing with him, and when Nino reappears in their lives he points out that her lack of output has a lot to do with Pietro not taking on any of the burden of caring for the family. He prioritises his own work and does not seem to consider that Elena also needs mental space and time to achieve her potential.

Lila’s relationship with Enzo has some differences. She works until she is exhausted but Enzo is proud of her and treats her like an intellectual equal, realising that they need to work together to achieve their goals. Ultimately, they become successful and forge a new way of life for themselves. Earlier in the novel, she began to feel that her efforts were futile when seeing the grandson of her former teacher exceed her own child’s abilities in less time. ‘What a useless struggle to make Gennaro become smart. The child was already losing, he was being pulled back and she couldn’t hold on to him.’ This heartbreaking passage reveals the deep-seated advantage that privilege provides from a young age, and highlights how hard both Elena and Lila have to work to rise above the disadvantage they were dealt.

This third instalment is just as powerful as those which came before. We see some new, not always pleasant, aspects of Elena’s character and witness the world around them shift with civil unrest, making even the university halls feel unsafe. The friendship between Lila and Elena remains difficult, competitive, and at times toxic. It is sad to see them feel compelled to compete when they would be far stronger supporting each other. There is far more connecting them than separating them but they can’t seem to get past feelings of hurt and judgment to open up to each other and accept help. This is a compelling novel that considers a broad sweep of gender and social issues and leaves you desperate to dive into the fourth and final book, while simultaneously not wanting your time with these characters to end. 

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The Shadow of the Wind, Carlos Ruiz Zafón (translated by Lucia Graves)

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Daniel Sempere is ten years old when his father takes him to the Cemetery of Forgotten Books and instructs him to choose one book which will become his responsibility to keep safe. He chooses The Shadow of the Wind by Julián Carax, an author whose novels have all but disappeared. In this first beguiling chapter, which reads something like a love letter to literature, neither Daniel nor the reader are aware of how much his book choice will change his life. 

Having devoured the novel, Daniel goes in search of more of Carax’s work, only to be met with disappointment. He is offered large sums of money to part with the book but he refuses. Soon, he encounters a mysterious figure named after a character from the book, hellbent on finding all copies of Carax’s work and destroying them. Daniel finds himself engulfed in a world of mystery, heartache, and revenge, as he seeks to uncover the truth about Carax.

Alongside the mystery and intrigue is a coming-of-age tale of love. Daniel falls for his best friend’s sister, much to the anger of her family. His story mirrors Julián’s own troubled love story in unsettling ways, and the reader is torn up hoping for a less tragic outcome. As Daniel gradually discovers the truth of Julián’s life, he realises that he must learn lessons from the past and try to avoid the kind of fallout experienced by the previous generation. His family friend, Fermín, aids him in his search for the truth, but his association with him further leads Daniel into danger. Inspector Fumero is looking for him and is willing to punish anyone with an association, and, as it turns out, also has a vendetta against Julián, putting Daniel in double danger.

This is a curious book that stirs up a lot of emotion. The parallel trajectory of Julián and Daniel’s lives seems a little overdone, and it is Julián’s tale that you really long to know the conclusion to, but overall it is gripping. There’s an interesting host of characters, all seemingly with secret pasts, and Daniel is never quite sure who to believe. There is much honour to be found in the actions of a number of characters, and much shame in others. Father figures, especially those with daughters, do not come off well as a whole, treating their families with violence and causing huge amounts of grief. Daniel’s father is the exception to his, quietly supporting his son while worrying as he becomes increasingly distracted and unreliable. There are some truly harrowing tales within the unravelling of Julián’s sad story, and most often it is young women who are the victims.

There are notes of other great tales mixed in - Fumero is a kind of Javert, obsessed with an individual to an unhealthy degree. Lain Coubert, the mysterious arsonist, has parallels to the Phantom of the Opera - a disfigured face, living in the shadows, and carrying out abhorrent deeds while somehow maintaining a certain level of sympathy from the reader, at least as the novel progresses. 

Set between 1945 and 1955 (in Daniel’s timeline), there are shadows of the real-life upheaval and atrocities that were carried out in Barcelona, adding motive and a sense of history and context to the novel. Zafón does not shy away from the darker side of life, and his characters reflect this, all fallible and making unwise decisions at times. He nonetheless infuses the novel with a sense of humour which helps prevent it becoming too heavy.

Overall, a wonderful read that fits in an awful lot of life. There are mysteries and revelations aplenty, and characters that you become quite attached to. A great pick for anyone looking for a well-written page turner and a spot of armchair travel. 

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Grown Ups, Marie Aubert (trans. by Rosie Hedger)

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Thanks to Pushkin Press for providing me with a free review copy of the book in exchange for an honest review.

We meet Ida on the way to her family’s cabin to celebrate her mother’s 65th birthday. In the opening sections we see her frustrated by a child on the bus playing with an iPad at full volume, and later interacting with Olea, her sister Marthe’s step-daughter. In these interactions we see how important it is to her that she knows how to behave around children. Marthe is three years into trying to get pregnant and the topic has dominated conversations during that period. Ida, single and 40, has quietly started the process of potentially freezing her eggs, believing that it might be the first step toward the life she wants. The birthday celebrations are overshadowed by the news that Marthe is in the early stages of pregnancy, and the sibling fallout that ensues.

The relationship between Marthe and Ida is fraught with jealousy and misconceptions. Ida finds her sister’s relentless complaints difficult to stomach when she has everything Ida doesn’t. On the other hand, we see that throughout life Ida has generally been considered the more attractive, more successful sibling. Marthe suffers from Crohn’s Disease and her health has often put limits on what she’s able to do. Their mother always prioritised taking care of her, leaving Ida craving the kind of attention and care she sees Marthe receive. There is a sense that her achievements and struggles fell to the wayside while Marthe was coddled and anxiously cared for.

Ida’s behaviour toward her sister is often less than admirable, constantly undermining her with Olea, taking pleasure in problems she caused but which Marthe appears responsible for. She is jealous and spiteful and struggles with the idea of her sister ‘overtaking’ her. She’s so used to consoling her that she’s not sure how to navigate their relationship when things go well for Marthe.

The way Ida is treated by her family is also often far from fair. They sideline her and fail to consider her feelings. When Ida opens up about her attempt to freeze her eggs it is a short conversation and no concessions are made to take into consideration the fact baby talk might be a sensitive subject for her.

Outside of the family circle Ida admits to feeling invisible. Her friends’ lives seem to expand and grow whereas hers remains much the same. She fears that she may have decades of the same ahead of her. Ida may not always come across as likeable but her insecurities are clear, and the way in which society views women of a certain age that aren’t settled down with a family have become internalised. Her desperation for companionship often leads her to make rash decisions and become clingy, choosing men who are unavailable or unwilling to consider a serious relationship with her.

This is a short book but one that manages to capture the essence of a family dynamic that will be familiar to many. All the characters have their imperfections and know how to hurt each other. The short passages showing their past are revealing as to how they became the people they are. We see where their insecurities come from and understand how this feeds into their need for reassurance. They feel very real, as messy and contradictory as anyone you’ll meet in real life. A brilliant examination of a grown-up family that draws on wider societal concerns to add an extra layer to their pre-occupations.

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The Story of a New Name, Elena Ferrante, trans. Ann Goldstein

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The second of Ferrante’s scintillating Neapolitan Novels picks up from the close of My Brilliant Friend, Lila and Stefano’s wedding. Elena, our narrator, explains that she has access to Lila’s inner thoughts from this time in the form of a series of notebooks which she refers to throughout, showing how her perceptions at the time often didn’t align with what was being experienced by Lila. She has been entrusted with these diaries but callously destroys them. We are thrown straight back in to the complex, destructive friendship between these two young women. Throughout the book their lives diverge, creating a distance between them. Lila’s life shrinks as she comes to terms with life as a wife while Elena continues to study and even has the opportunity to leave Naples.

Their friendship is truly the heart of the novel, and although they care deeply for each other and want to appear in the best light, there’s a lot of jealousy and competition which leads them to behave far from admirably. Elena seems to have an inferiority complex when it comes to Lila, believing she is more than her, that she would be shining far brighter with the same opportunities. This can lead her to make bad decisions as she desperately tries to keep up with Lila, yet always conscious of the contrast between their experiences. This can also result in her acting unkindly to Lila, unable to see beyond her jealousy of all the wonderful things she believes Lila to be in possession of, wilfully ignoring her suffering.

Lila continues to be fiery and impulsive. She has a reputation in the neighbourhood and receives no sympathy when it’s clear she has been beaten, many believing that she deserved it and needed pulling into line. She is controlling and manipulative, forcing Elena to be part of her schemes against her will, and doesn’t give the pain she causes her friend a second thought. The reader does feel for her - she is only sixteen when she marries Stefano and deals with a lot at such a young age. However, there is a sense of the power she wields and her behaviour is difficult. Unlike Elena, she does seem to genuinely want her friend to succeed, despite the pain it causes her to see while her own intelligence is stifled. On occasion these feelings do spill out and she can be spiteful, driving a wedge between them.

There are moments where Elena mixes with other students and suddenly finds herself interacting comfortably, being understood. This doesn’t extend to her time outside of Naples however, where she masks her Neapolitan accent and works hard to be accepted. She succeeds to an extent, but it is shown to be fairly superficial and fragile. In contrast, when she returns to Naples, an act she dreads, they see the difference in her and so she feels out of place wherever she goes.

The socio-economic environment they grow up in is touched on throughout, as are the inequalities between men and women. It is accepted that women will be beaten in marriage and that they should behave according to their husband’s desires. The younger generations perpetuate the behaviour that was normalised in their youth. Elena’s ambitions are also limited by her gender, her male colleagues at school are offered far different opportunities for life after graduation. This stings Elena with a sense of injustice and the disappointment that comes with knowing she’s just as able as her male counterparts.

This is a stunning read that offers a deep insight into the lives of its young protagonists. Their characters are often unlikable yet you feel for them, seeing the events and situations that have formed their personalities. It’s an honest appraisal of friendship that doesn’t hide the dark side that comes with intimacy. This is a hard book to put down and I can’t wait to immerse myself once more into Elena and Lila’s story in the third book of the series.

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My Brilliant Friend, Elena Ferrante, translated by Ann Goldstein

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In the first of Ferrante’s Neapolitan Novels we are introduced to Elena and Lila in their childhood and adolescence. They live in a poor area of Naples and struggle to balance their desires and the reality of their lives. Both impressively intelligent, they find themselves misplaced and misunderstood in a world where women are not expected to be highly educated. Their family lives drag them in separate directions but they are essential to each other’s existence and manage to maintain their complex relationship through a number of major changes.

From the short prologue we see an older Elena setting out to write their story, almost to spite Lila, giving us an instant sense of how fraught their relationship has been. Throughout the book Elena sees herself as lesser than Lila who she believes to be more intelligent, more beautiful, and yet less likable in their youth. There is a constant sense of competition, of almost wishing Lila ill so that she can shine for a change. There are suggestions too that Lila feels jealousy on occasion and sets Elena up to fail, yet it is only ever Elena’s voice that we hear, we see Lila only through her eyes. Lila is outwardly the less devoted friend – not responding to letters and showing little interest in Elena’s achievements, yet we also see glimmers of how much she relies on Elena when she’s feeling at her most vulnerable.

Ferrante does not shy away from the transformative period of puberty and how challenging it was in the 1950s when it was not openly discussed. Elena feels unattractive as her body changes but is pleased that she reaches certain milestones before her friend. When Lila catches up however, she transforms into a beauty that captures the heart of almost all of their male acquaintances and Elena is left feeling once again that she has been left behind. Marriage and the starting of families happens at a much younger age than the average today and although in itself it is not unusual, Elena struggles with the thought of a man violating her friend, responding by wishing to have the same happen to her simultaneously. The mysteries of sexual maturity help place the action in past generations as the girls are shocked and confused by the arrival of menstruation, completely ignorant in a time when it came with no warning.

Another main theme that runs throughout is the violence of their upbringing. It is woven throughout the story, parents and siblings regularly attacking them, and ongoing feuds and violence between families in their neighbourhood provides a dramatic backdrop. They accept it as part of their lives but Elena does not feel able to hold her own whereas Lila has a more determined, violent streak, thinking nothing of threatening even the most feared men.

A wonderfully well-written novel with characters you won’t want to say goodbye to.

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