Elena Ferrante deserves your attention. There is something in her works that makes you abandon your life just so you can devour a dose more of a great quality literature. “The Days of the abandonment” was my introduction to her novels. It stuck me with its frankness and reminded me that life could have endless turning points in which we lose and find ourselves. The book is rather claustrophobic and gloomy, however it contains a precise psychological depiction of the “abandoned woman”. “My Brilliant Friend” is something completely different in its dynamics, structure and emotion. This is the first book of the Neapolitan trilogy and evidently attracted the attention of the most prominent literary critics. Here Ferrante collects more characters, places them in a poor Neapolitan suburb, turns the time back to 1950s and sets the story of two eleven-year-old girlfriends, Elena and Lila. The novel starts with a short introduction of the families in the neighborhood and their members. The story is narrated by Elena who is the more obedient one of the two friends, the impeccable, the submissive, the one that diligently cares about school work and ceaselessly reads books to prove herself worthy, but not to her parents, nor her teachers or the rest of the children, but only to her best friend Lila. Lila on the other hand is stubborn, unbridled and intelligent, she possesses a sheer magnetism that doesn’t rest concealed for those around. In the characters of those two girls Ferrante draws the parallel between the established patriarchal tradition of the time and the onset of women’s emancipation. Born in a slum in post-war Italy, the children from the Neapolitan neighborhood are forced to face reality under a different angle, often deprived from their childhood, exposed to street violence and class segregation, they have to find their way of survival. The domestic nature of the novel enhance it as more readable and dense. When I borrowed “My Brilliant Friend” from the library and I was immediately distrustful just by looking at the book cover, it couldn’t be any uglier, however what lies underneath it is something that has more subtlety than silk, its more addictive than heroin, its not historical, nor cultural but yet carries a sincere meaning – the ordinary (with a great deal of exceptions) lives of two girls from the slum. Naples depicted in the novel would lack the glamour of the city centre, the spills of red wine or the insights of a fine epicurean, rather you will be thrown in a rathole of violence, destitution and prejudicial thoughts. And you will enjoy it because what manifests through the pages of this book has been written with a refine and agile literary style.