I performed a speedy pre-scan of Beth Ann Fennelly’s 52 micro-memoirs, Heating and Cooling.  I stopped at page 63.  The word Beyoncé caught my eye at the top right-hand side of the page.  I knew this book and I would be great friends. I was curious to see where America’s national treasure would show up in Fennelly’s life.  

I was surprised to find Beyoncé tucked between the lines of Fennelly’s memoir, “The Neighbor, The Chickens, and The Flames.”  It’s a short, fascinating read about a rogue chicken, stolen eggs, a chicken coop caught on fire, and the brief mention of a monopoly match.

I devoured Fennelly’s memoirs.  I read the book over again.  I enjoyed myself.  Why not?  It was like having drinks at the bar with a good friend—you know, the fun one.  The one who always has a story to tell.  You sit behind the bar in a tall chair, one hand cupping the thick wet glass of a cold pint, legs crossed, facing her, phone in purse, never touched during time spent together.  It isn’t needed because this is Beth Ann.

She takes you to a game of pool in a biker bar, to Barcelona, to a living room where she discusses false teeth with her father-in-law, to her nail salon, her bed post, her marriage, her children—yes, even marriage and children, which can be so incredibly boring in Facebook posts, become entertainment when Fennelly shares them.

You snort, almost spitting out your beer when she tells you about the dead cat in plastic wrap next to the vodka in her friend’s freezer. 

It’s not always fun and games.  Sometimes you get serious, as close friends do.  She recalls the strained confession of the words “I love you” to her father.  Those words were hard to say.  You lean in close, touch her arm, you’ve been there too.

 But then she shakes the heaviness of the moment off with an eye-roll of a story about the “commodification of art,” and some other small grievance about an obnoxious “rival poet” she remembers from grad school. Other writers can be so annoying. 

I drank all of Heating and Cooling in.  Over-served—52 rounds.  I stumbled home—giddy, warm, smiling.  Happy to have had the honor of a riot of a time with Beth Ann.

 And now, it’s your turn.   

Elena Greco and Lila Cerullo live in a poor neighborhood in Naples in Elena Ferrante’s My Brilliant Friend. They crave knowledge through a formal education, but they do not understand the structure of academia. They do not know what middle school is. Lila’s parents cannot afford it; she must work in her father’s shoe business. Elena’s family does not see the value in an education for a girl. This masterfully crafted bildungsroman shares the persistence of young girls as they mature toward adulthood.

In these two characters, I see a younger version of my grandmother.

After her mother’s heart attack, my grandmother needed to help support her family. She left school with a ninth-grade education.

Today, there is not a room in her home that does not contain a book.

In an interview with The New York Times, Ferrante comments on her connection with her characters: “The women in my stories are all echoes of real women who, because of their suffering or their combativeness, have very much influenced my imagination.” My Brilliant Friend is an intimate coming of age story that offers a powerful balance of uniqueness and repetition. We feel her stories because we have been here before.

Echoes of my grandmother’s persistence can be found in silhouettes of Elena and Lila. These are the women that we have been surrounded by for our entire lives. Ferrante writes that the women in her stories are “strong, educated, self-aware and aware of their rights, just, but at the same time subject to unexpected breakdowns, to subservience of every kind, to mean feelings.” Her novels explore the continuance of learning; her characters show fierce determination despite setbacks. This story conveys that growth cannot be done alone; we must persist with the help of our friends.

Ferrante establishes an environment where her protagonists’ aspirations, fights, falls, and accomplishments vividly depict the complexities of female friendship and advancement in a traditionally rooted world. The women aspire to do more and to be more than just the daughters and sisters of their fathers and brothers. Together they cultivate spaces where they may thrive. As Elena and Lila attempt to rise from their stations, they grow toward and away from each other. At times they share almost everything; then they don’t speak for months. They share their victories and their breakdowns. Her characters bare themselves to the page; they insist on being known. Ferrante’s novel leaves us with the sense that we know the characters. She creates a sense of surreal understanding and exposes cultural experiences which stay with us long after the book is closed. Many of us have lived these experiences. This is our story.