Somewhat relieved to find Ferrante true to form after consuming the Neapolitan novels. When her mother dies, Delia is confronted with a veritable onslaught of memories that unmoor the seemingly cemented stories of her past, sending her on a reckoning that reads quite like a descent. The tone is a lot more stark and confrontational that I initially expected, and sure navigates to some dark and disturbing places.

Notions around women being caged and hindered by patriarchal shackles and violence become prevalent motifs that dog Delia as she attempts to find out why and how her mother died, with essentially no one else helping her, and men often stymying her efforts for obscure reasons. And that opaqueness is the only really incongruent thing, for me. It felt a bit padded and had similar plot beats along the descent; I thought it might have been originally a short story that was fleshed out. Otherwise, I think it’s on point. Bold and exacting, it certainly does not pull its punches.