Month: March 2026

Categories
Ferrante

Not your typical friendship story

This was a long read, phew, but a very interesting one, regardless, I must say. At times, I did need to keep the book down, then get back to it due to the constant tension present. I definitely doubted if I would enjoy this novel, but it did take me by surprise (in a good way). One of the most interesting parts is the contrast of opportunities between the girls. How Lila, as the brilliant one, has limited access to opportunities in formal education, while Lenù, on the other hand, although intelligent, gets more access. She is also the one who feels jealous of Lila. The difference shows how factors like class and gender can play a role in outcomes more than someone’s individual abilities. 

I also found it interesting the way girlhood or friendship is portrayed throughout. Lila and Lenù’s relationship is filled with insecurity and competition, but also support. While you can tell that Lila is admired and looked upto there is also a lot of jealousy beneath Lenù’s perspective. It feels real and raw, similar to what I’ve seen in real life in comparison to what is often shown in the media. I think this happens a lot in the real world, especially during adolescence, these sorts of relationships, where support and competition co-exist, sort of. Reading this felt like a breath of fresh air, where it’s not just the glamorous side of friendships but the complexity alongside what other factors, like the environment, play into these relationships. In a way, it challenges the idea that friendships are only positive and showcases that while they may be messy, they can also be meaningful. In addition, the fact that the story is set in Naples doesn’t act as just a place but more so plays a large role in actively shaping the behaviours and identities through the violence, poverty, and social hierarchies that exist.

Lastly, I find it striking how the story is told entirely from Lenù’s perspective. This makes me think about how reliable the narration is. Can we ever fully know Lila, or do we only know her through Lenù’s eyes? I think the uncertainty is what makes this read so interesting, because we’re not just questioning who Lila is, but more so Lenù’s perspective as a narrator. Since this story is also told retrospectively, I feel that memory plays a role in determining what’s included or not. In a way, it’s not just their story but more so Lenù’s interpretation of it as well. What are your thoughts?

Categories
Agualusa

Gecko gecko

The Book of Chameleons as a title makes me think about people changing their colours, and to my surprise reading the novel was exactly that but with a focus on individuals actually focused on changing their entire identities and lives because of their past and the narrator being a gecko?! This immediately made me curious about how identity and transformation would be explored in such an unusual and creative way.

One of the most interesting parts was the curation of identities for various individuals. “But what these people lack is a good past, a distinguished ancestry, diplomas, in sum a name that resonates with nobility and culture. He sells them a brand new past.”

This idea of curating and handing out different identities to people just sounds childish, almost like you’re engaging in pretend play like kids do. The more I read, the more normalized it got but still was very disorienting, in fact, most of the situations narrated in this are. However, it poses this question in my head: where is this something to be considered wrong or right?

This was one of the most unique reads I’ve had in a while (I feel like every other week I say oh this is different but truly though lately I’ve been getting suprised). The narrator, the narration style, the chapter titles, the changes in perspective, I feel like this time around truly got me interested in reading and trying to understand the novel more. 

One aspect I’d like to explore in class is why the gecko was chosen as the narrator, and how Agualusa’s choice impacts our interpretation of the story. While the choice of a gecko seems random or sort of confusing, I think its perspective adds a lot t the novel and reinforces the exploration of identity, truth, and memory. Since it remembers a past life as a human, it already blurs the boundary between identities, which mirrors what Félix is doing with his clients. It also looks at everything from afar, if you may say, which makes its perspective feel more philosophical and less tied to any one version of events. This made me think and ask: Are we supposed to trust any single perspective in the novel? Or is it that, depending on who is telling the story, the truth is always changing? Also, does looking inwards from the position of an outsider – does that give the gecko a better understanding of events, or is it similar to how we observe it?

Categories
Piglia

oh the power money holds over us humans

Reading Money to Burn finally gave the true crime vibes I’ve been waiting for. It was one of the novels that actually got me interested from the start, as readers, we were thrown into the action and introduced to criminals planning a robbery. 

I loved the variety of characters and perspectives presented through the different commentaries, reports, and testimonies. The narrative moving between perspectives creates this unstable feeling. I found myself, as a reader, often putting together parts from different perspectives, similar to how crime stories are understood by reports, witnesses, and others. Due to this structure, reading this felt more like a true crime report than a true crime story with storytelling elements. I think it is mainly strengthened by the fact that the novel being based on a real event.

Another thing I found interesting was the representation of the relationship with money. I feel that money is such a sensitive yet powerful topic for many in society, as seen in the quote:

 “Money is just the same as drugs: what’s fundamental is its possession, knowing it’s there, touching it, checking it’s still in the cupboard,” 

This comparison between money and drugs truly encapsulates how money becomes addictive, where logic isn’t used. Those addicted to money, like criminals, are not only into what money can do for them but also the feeling they get from holding that possession. Having and feeling its presence represents security, power, and validation for them. This leads me to the irony of burning the money. It made me think about how the act seems like something a rebel would do out of the power it gives them, that destroying the money was the better, perhaps correct choice for them, instead of handing it over to the police?

Similar to other crime stories, this has a tone that gives this sense of inevitability. You as a reader just have this sense that things are not going to end well. There’s tension just knowing that the characters are going to end up in a situation like this (the siege) before the robbery happens. I feel like this tone just added so much intensity to the story.

All in all, I think the novel gives us such interesting ways to think about crime, power, and money, making me also think about how stories can have blurred lines between fact and storytelling. As mentioned in the lecture video, the story has gone through many changes and resembles the relationships between fiction and reality, especially how the fictional part of it helps us see what’s real or not. Thinking about this, why do you think people are compelled to crime stories like these, especially if they’re portrayed as true, like this one? What makes these true crime stories so captivating?

Categories
Manea

Ambiguity at its finest

Manea’s The Trenchcoat was such a breather compared to the other books, I actually liked reading it. Starting the book, I didn’t know how to feel or what to expect, but the dinner party created an uncomfortable environment. From the title itself, I expected some crime, thriller, or murder mystery vibes just through the ambiguity surrounded by the title, along with the trenchcoat as an object. That may just be me, but the idea of a trench coat made me resonate it to a mystery or detective genre since they’re pretty prominent in those books and shows. Because of that association, I went into it expecting some sort of big climax. 

The chaos created by simply a trench coat being left behind was so fascinating to me, and what made it interesting for me. Thinking about it, if any of us were to lose our trenchcoat or see a lost trenchcoat, today we wouldn’t think much of it. However, the reaction here is completely different. I think this is related to the characters living in communist Romania, where they live under fear and surveillance. Due to this political environment, I believe that’s why they’re so careful with what they talk about, and even something simple like a coat being forgotten may feel so threatening. I think the trench coat didn’t even need to belong to a spy to be powerful, but the idea of them being watched or under surveillance is sufficient to control their behaviour. It was so interesting how just the fear of the political system easily ruined the trust between the individuals when they started suspecting each other. 

Additionally, I found the unclear ending pretty ironic. The title in itself leaves a lot of mystery/ambiguity, as I mentioned and reading the novel, you’re expecting an answer, there’s a sense that the mystery of the coat will be explained. However, instead of the answer we’re expecting, Manea gives us an answer, showcasing how the mystery of the coat showcases the environment of uncertainty and fear that society people experience. I feel that Manea not providing us with a clear explanation somewhat makes the read more impactful. In a sense, it conveys the same uncertainty the characters experience to the reader, incorporating the same ambiguity as in the title, into the message itself. My question to you is, did the ambiguous ending (not having a clear answer on the trenchcoat’s owner) make the story more powerful or frustrating for you as a reader? Why?

Categories
Calvino

Didn’t know I was about to get my feelings played with

This book turned out to be so different, honestly. I don’t know what I was expecting, perhaps something similar to the books we have read. This book didn’t give us one story like we are used to: a start, middle and end. However, in fact, we got several beginnings of different stories and each time we started getting more invested, or it got compelling to read, it was cut off – creating A LOT of frustration, but now I think that was the point? It almost felt like scrolling through different shows on Netflix and never finishing one. Rather than just “finding out what happens”, I’m forced to focus on the experience of reading. In a sense, Calvino is playing with our feelings.

Until now, we’ve been analyzing different characters each week. For this, it feels strange to do any character analysis because the main character is literally “you”, the reader. Addressing the reader by saying “you”, especially at the beginning of the book, is a first for me. It made me feel like the main character of the story, sort of blurring the line between reality and fiction – you’re somehow outside the novel but also inside. It conveys a certain illusion of control, where we are addressed but don’t actually control anything. 

Further, the way attention to the act of reading is given, you could almost argue that it’s portrayed as a desire we have. It also dives into how we read for various reasons, and perhaps the desire to read doesn’t stem from the happiness in finishing the stories, but being immersed in them or in this case, perhaps part of them. Ludmilla read for pleasure and immersion while Lotaira had an analytical approach. It made me think about the way I read and perhaps what I read for. 

Additionally, what was most fascinating was how the whole book feels very relatable to how we consume media now. We start shows and don’t finish them, read articles halfway, and all in all constantly interrupted. This sort of fragmented structure mirrors real life, nothing feels complete. Also, made me think about how it portrays how meaning works in our lives. We never get the entire narrative of people’s lives and perspectives, we see only parts, and fill the gaps with assumptions/knowledge as the Reader does. Despite not getting to the end of the embedded stories, the ending felt strangely calm and traditional after all the chaos, making me wonder perhaps the real story isn’t the novels but the act of reading and connection itself. 

A feeling I did have was the discomfort of not knowing how things ended. It exposes how dependent we are on solutions and endings, but in fact, Calvino is just reemphasizing this lesson of life that life rarely offers us proper endings. We sort of just learn to move from one start to the next and eventually figure it out as we go. My question is, did you feel something similar? What are your thoughts on this?

Best,

Tripti

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