One evening in 2021, my wife abruptly pressed a book into my hands, telling me that I needed to read it. The book was Elena Ferrante’s The Lost Daughter. When I asked her what was so urgent about it, she replied, just a little testily, “Well, you’re writing about anger, aren’t you? If you’re interested in women’s anger, you can’t not read this.” It was the story of a lone woman on holiday, living in the shadow of her decision years before to leave her husband and young…
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