In addition to her fiction, Ferrante has also released Frantumaglia, translated by Ann Goldstein, a collection of letters, essays, reflections, and interviews that together offer readers a glimpse into her writing desk and thoughts. Every other label would be problematic, would bring into the work precisely that which has been kept out of it, so that it would stay afloat in the great river of forms. It would not be a pseudonym, that is, a false name it would be the only true name used to identify her imaginative power, her ability. She goes on to add that the artist while unknown to her in name, is in reality a figure she knows intimately through their art, their “only true name.” It’s a stunning statement, that seems to capture so much of what Ferrante is doing with her own work. Not knowing the artist liberates her from thinking about the artist and gives her space to concentrate only on the art. The 17th century painting that has captured Ferrante’s attention is of a nun, “with hands joined, eyes closed and an ecstatic expression.” The painting is by an unknown artist, and Ferrante writes that ever since she was a young person, she liked the term unknown.
I was particularly struck by her musings in an article for the Guardian about a painting in the Pio Monte della Misericordia, in Naples. Today I feel, thanks to this decision, that I have gained a space of my own, a space that is free, where I feel active and present. I simply decided once and for all, over 20 years ago, to liberate myself from the anxiety of notoriety and the urge to be a part of that circle of successful people, those who believe they have won who-knows-what.
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