The Modelytypeface Book Club

It’s holiday/sunshine lounging season! If you’re anything like me you can devour page after page whilst slowly rotating yourself like a rotisserie chicken in the sun (though under an umbrella, with SPF 50 repeatedly applied….

So when I go on a loungey holiday, I often ‘treat’ myself to a chick lit book from the WH Smiths at the airport. The cover will be in a bright coral, or sky blue. There will be a picture of sunglasses, or 50’s style dresses with polka dots, or a sun lounger with a large hat draped on it, facing the sea at dusk. The title will be in swirly wirley writing and the story will feature a protaganist in her early 30s on the cusp of a ‘big discovery’. Within the first three pages we’ll have met the handsome carpenter/widower who our heroine will end up falling in love with after many wine-induced mishaps and indulgent cake-and-coffee sessions with her three best friends.

And this is why the books often leave me a little cold: I love em, don’t get me wrong, but there’s no challenge, no surprise to them. Yet I don’t always want to buy the book about Auschwitz or the unsolved murder of a young girl, which is the other end of the spectrum I often find myself drawn to.

Let me introduce you to the mega hit series called ‘The Neapolitan Novels’ by Elena Ferrante. The series of four books (I devoured them in under a month) is narrated by the protaganist Elena and centres around her friendship (frenemy-ship?) with Lila. We follow them from schoolchildren to elderly women. Elena is always drawn to her charismatic friend Lila, yet overshadowed by a sense of inferiority to her.

What I found fascinating was how viscerally I could empathise with Elena. Elena struggles to find her own sense of self and confidence, yet constantly compares herself to Lila who, despite the odds being stacked against her, seems to emerge shining and magnetic no matter Elena’s efforts. Young Lila is scrawny and tomboyish in contrast to Elena, who feels dumpy and acne-ridden. Elena finally feels as though she is blossoming as her breasts develop, yet somehow it is Lila who sparkles and entrances the local boys. Elena studies furiously hard at school in order to develop scholastically, yet Lila, who has to attend a lowly local school, somehow gobbles up the difficult academic texts she procures from Elena. Elena tries, and Lila effortlessly surpasses, no matter what happens.

I’ve definitely been there! That feeling that no matter how I tried, other people managed naturally and effortlessly. That feeling of being the tall, gawky one in clubs, struggling to look natural and carefree while I danced, while others move free. Of my words seeming dull and heavy.

As the books progress, the women find marriage, children, work and struggles. Lila’s star fails to ascend in the way it once seemed destined too, and it’s told through the narration of Elena: is she a little happy about Lila’s failures? Do we detect a spot of schadenfreude?

The books are so easy to read, so absorbing and utterly emotionally engaging. You care about the main characters and the smaller ones, you care about where they’re headed and the mistakes they’re making. It’s shocking to read the entire lives of these folks and realise just how short life can be, how one bad decision can corrupt the path of destiny and how toxic grudges and stubbornness can be. Claustrophobic family ties, the push and pull of sex, cataclysmic decisions set amongst the minutia of domestic life – all set to the sultry heat of Italy – make this a powerful read that stayed with me for months.

A stereotypical chick lit is a fun, throwaway choice for a holiday read, but as quickly as I’ve read them, they will have evaporated from my head forever, perhaps leaving a slight trace of Prosecco and Jimmy Choo footprints. The Elena Ferrante novels, however, left a huge impression in my brain, the themes staying with me for years and an emotional connection to the characters pondering their fates.

I truly can’t recommend this series enough for a holiday read!

Rebecca x