"The Lying Life of Adults" by Elena Ferrante

The Lying Life of Adults, the English translation of Ferrante's Italian novel, is a compelling look at the lies we tell others and, more importantly, ourselves. Through her teenage protagonist Giovanna, Ferrante suggests an essential element of growing up is becoming aware of these lies. First, we feel outrage as we realize those we admire--typically our parents--lie. Only later to we recognize that we shape our own identity through lies as well.

The novel begins with Giovanna learning about her estranged Aunt Vittoria and beginning a relationship with her, despite her father's misgivings. Though it seems the book will be about her father's family secrets, Vittoria is only a jumping off point. Her father's hatred for Vittoria challenges Giovanna's warm feelings about her father, and the later revelation that her father has been having a long-term affair with the mother of Giovanna's best friends only increases her distance from him. She doesn't know how to deal with her father's lies. She still seeks affirmation from him yet begins to see him more objectively: as someone who struts his intelligence; as someone too absorbed in his work to care for those around him.

But, again, whereas you might expect the novel to focus on the straining of the father-daughter relationship, instead it shifts again as Giovanna, as a maturing teenager, moves her focus on her father to her own burgeoning interest in men, particularly Roberto, the charismatic boyfriend of a friend. She is mesmerized by Roberto's confidence, by the way his attention can make her feel worthy in a way she rarely feels. Her admiration for him is total and all-consuming until she impulsively travels to his apartment and realizes he will sleep with her. 

Though the book focuses on lying in all forms, much of the novel is really about men and women, about the separate spheres in which their attentions and devotion operate. There's Vittoria, still attached decades later to a now-deceased married man with whom she had an affair. There's Giovanna's mother, who remains defensive of her ex-husband, even after he leaves her. Or even the principal of Giovanna's school, easily charmed by Giovanna's father's minor flattery. And there's Giovanna herself, so easily hurt by her father's words and so easily obsessed with Roberto and his small attentions in a world where she feels unrecognized.

The novel suggests many of the relationships between men and women are built on lies. "My behavior is acceptable because I am respected and great." "He deserves my love because he is great." "I respect her." "He respects me." These lies about intentions and beliefs perpetuate a patriarchal system that gives the men power, but excuses behavior on all fronts. Roberto can bask in the respect he receives from others and convince himself he is a devoted boyfriend and a caring friend, even though he has no compunction about sleeping with Giovanna. Giovanna can believe Roberto respects her and values her opinion, even though his attentions are fleeting and infrequent and he'll immediately cheat on his girlfriend with her without preamble. These lies are necessary: to justify Roberto's identity as a bright scholar; to justify Giovanna's slavish crush.

But these are just some of the lies in the novel. Giovanna's parents lie to her, and she lies to them. The adults lie to each other, to the children; the children lie to each other, and to the adults. The lies take various forms--explicit and implicit; dangerous and petty. Still, there's so little opportunity for truth-telling that the final scene--in which Giovanna chooses to lose her virginity to a boy she barely likes--is shocking. In the decidedly unromantic--yet, importantly, also un-traumatic--scene, she tells Rosario exactly how she wants to have sex. There are no lies of polite speech or enticement. It's a liberating moment amid a novel of obfuscation.