For me, books by Elena Ferrante are either a huge hit or a complete miss. This was the second. It started so well, it made me reflect on a lot of feelings I went through, put into words things I couldn't say. But then, BAM, we enter unhinged woman territory, and not the ''good'' unhinged, but plain ridiculous, senseless, borderline teenager kind of unhinged. The times I wished I could shake Olga so that she can go back to her senses, and it kept going on for what felt like forever (almost 150 pages). I want to forget I ever went throught this woman's deep dive into loss of control.