The fourth and final (I suppose, though one can always hope) book in the Neapolitan series – partly fevered nightmare and partly perfect resolution – delivers what we have come to expect, and more.
If you inhaled the first three, one after the other (and I know several of you did) – now you can read the newly released fourth volume, “The Story of the Lost Child.” (I read the third again to get primed, but you don’t need to.)
Bereft, because of the end of the series, I found solace in a Paris Review interview between Ferrante and her publishers. She discusses her decision to offer herself “to the public purely and simply through an act of writing – which is all that really counts.” She makes perfect sense, and makes one realize how different Elena Ferrante is from Elena Greco, and how different life is from art. (Paris Review, The Art of Fiction No. 228: Elena Ferrante)
her spirits rose... 
Thank you, Katy! Ferrante makes it easy to leave the world we inhabit physically and enter her Italy of her and our young womanhoods. I’m saving the fourth for the darkening days — can’t resist the sunshine as the shadows from the canyon wall move closer and closer to our home.
That’s a good save Susan – and I know you’ll savor these last days of leftover summer.
Yes. One can always hope. I am one of those “devourers” and ordered the fourth book to take on our trip, but, alas, it came the day after we left. So I have that to look forward to in the Alaska winter. Thanks for introducing us to her. I have loved the series.
I think I am way behind all my readers in knowing about the new Ferrante – it’s a good thing to look forward to for winter!
Ah… another addition to the endless list . . .