The Story of the Lost Child (The Neapolitan Novels, #4)

by Elena Ferrante

What were my daughters and I doing in Naples? Were we there just to make Nino happy? Was I lying to myself when I portrayed myself as free and autonomous? And was I lying to my audience when I played the part of someone who, with her two small books, had sought to help every woman confess what she couldn’t say to herself?

In spite of all the talk was I letting myself be invented by a man to the point where his needs were imposed on mine and those of my daughters?

In those moments I forgot about my mother’s suffering and we became girls again.

“Yes, it is. He wants to liberate the women of others but not his.” “Well, your liberation shouldn’t necessarily signify the loss of my freedom.”

I hate you nino sarratore

I’m so glad we’ve been friends for so long and that we are still.