Drowning on My Birthday

Delia's mother, Amalia, drowns in the sea on Delia's birthday, setting off a chain of memories and investigations. The event is shrouded in mystery: Amalia's body is found wearing only a new, expensive bra, her suitcase and clothes missing. Delia, both repelled and fascinated by her mother's presence, is forced to return to Naples, the city of her childhood, to confront the circumstances of Amalia's death. The loss is not just physical but emotional, as Delia is left with a sense of unfinished business, unresolved tensions, and a haunting maternal presence that refuses to fade.

The Funeral and Family Tensions

At Amalia's funeral, Delia is surrounded by her sisters, relatives, and the city's oppressive heat. The event is marked by emotional distance, unspoken accusations, and the absence of their father, who is represented only by his crude paintings. Delia feels both relief and guilt at her mother's passing, unable to cry, and is haunted by bodily sensations that connect her to Amalia. The funeral becomes a stage for old resentments, especially when Uncle Filippo invokes the name Caserta, a figure from the family's troubled past, stirring up childhood fears and memories of violence and betrayal.

Return to Naples

Delia, now alone, wanders through Naples, a city that both repels and defines her. She visits her mother's apartment, encountering the neighbor, Signora De Riso, who hints at a mysterious man visiting Amalia. The city's dialect, smells, and routines evoke Delia's childhood, her mother's habits, and the family's history of separation and violence. The apartment itself is a repository of Amalia's life, filled with traces of her presence and absence, and Delia is drawn into a search for meaning in the objects and spaces her mother left behind.

Amalia's Empty Apartment

Inside Amalia's apartment, Delia finds evidence of recent happiness and change: the water left running, a man's shirt, and the absence of her mother's usual undergarments. The neighbor's gossip suggests Amalia had a lover, but Delia resists this narrative, clinging to the idea of her mother's innocence. The apartment is both a crime scene and a shrine, filled with intimate objects that provoke memories of shared rituals, bodily care, and the complex, often painful, mother-daughter relationship. Delia's search is as much about understanding herself as it is about uncovering the truth about Amalia.

Ghosts and Memories

Delia is plagued by vivid memories and hallucinations of her mother, from childhood anxieties to adult resentments. The boundaries between past and present blur as Delia recalls Amalia's beauty, her hair, and the rituals of care and violence that defined their relationship. Phone calls from a mysterious man, Caserta, and the discovery of Amalia's suitcase filled with new, unfamiliar clothes deepen the sense of mystery. Delia's investigation becomes a journey into the family's secrets, her own complicity, and the ways in which love and violence are intertwined.

The Mysterious Suitcase

The suitcase Amalia left behind is filled with new lingerie and dresses, none of which seem to belong to her. Delia visits the Vossi sisters' shop, where the garments were purchased, and is mistaken for her mother. The confusion of identities—Delia's face altered to resemble Amalia's—underscores the novel's central theme: the inescapable inheritance of the mother's body, desires, and history. Delia's search for receipts, names, and explanations leads only to further ambiguity, as the boundaries between self and other, past and present, are continually destabilized.

The Vossi Sisters' Shop

At the lingerie shop, Delia tries to return the clothes, only to be told she looks just like her mother. The shop, once a symbol of aspiration, is now vulgar and commercialized, filled with women flaunting their bodies and desires. Delia's encounter with the shop manager, Polledro, is charged with sexual tension and aggression, echoing the violence and confusion of her family history. The episode culminates in the realization that the photograph on Amalia's identity card has been altered to resemble Delia, blurring the line between mother and daughter, self and other.

The Encounter with Polledro

Delia is pursued by Polledro, the son of Caserta, her childhood playmate. Their encounter is fraught with unresolved sexual tension, nostalgia, and mutual resentment. Polledro's father, Caserta, is revealed to have been both a tormentor and a companion to Amalia, and his relationship with Delia is marked by the same ambiguity. The city's violence, the legacy of abuse, and the confusion of identities converge in their awkward, unsatisfying sexual encounter, which leaves Delia feeling both violated and strangely liberated.

The Pursuit of Caserta

Delia, Polledro, and Uncle Filippo become entangled in a farcical pursuit of Caserta through the city's streets, funiculars, and rain-soaked piazzas. The chase is both literal and symbolic, as Delia seeks to confront the man who shaped her mother's fate and her own. The city becomes a labyrinth of memory and desire, populated by ghosts, doubles, and echoes of past violence. The pursuit culminates in a series of confrontations that reveal the futility of revenge and the impossibility of closure.

The Funicular Descent

On the funicular, Delia witnesses Caserta's predatory behavior toward a young woman, echoing the sexual violence that has haunted her family. The journey down the hill becomes a descent into the underworld of memory, where the boundaries between victim and perpetrator, child and adult, are dissolved. Delia's memories of childhood games with Antonio, Caserta's son, and the betrayals that shaped her identity, resurface with new intensity, forcing her to confront the ways in which she has both suffered and inflicted harm.

Childhood Games and Betrayals

Delia returns to the neighborhood of her childhood, retracing the steps of her earliest memories and reenacting the games and betrayals that defined her relationship with Amalia and Caserta. The cellar of the old pastry shop becomes the site of both real and imagined abuse, as Delia confronts the lies she told as a child, the violence she witnessed, and the guilt she has carried ever since. The past is revealed as a tissue of half-truths, fantasies, and wounds that can never be fully healed.

The Truth in the Cellar

In the cellar, Delia confronts the truth of her childhood: the abuse she suffered, the lies she told, and the consequences for her mother and Caserta. The garments Amalia left behind become relics of a lost world, charged with both pain and longing. Delia's confession is both an act of self-accusation and a plea for forgiveness, as she acknowledges the ways in which she has been both victim and perpetrator, daughter and mother, child and adult. The truth is elusive, fragmented, and ultimately unknowable.

The Final Garment

Delia dons Amalia's old suit, finding that it fits her perfectly, as if it were a final narrative bequeathed by her mother. The act of wearing the garment is both a ritual of mourning and a gesture of self-creation, as Delia claims her inheritance and her difference. The story of Amalia's last days—her journey with Caserta, her laughter, her death—is reconstructed as a series of possible truths, each as plausible and incomplete as the last. Delia's acceptance of ambiguity becomes an act of liberation.

The Confrontation with Father

Delia visits her father, confronting him with the violence he inflicted on Amalia and the family. The encounter is marked by mutual accusations, physical blows, and the impossibility of understanding or forgiveness. The father's jealousy, rage, and sense of betrayal are mirrored in Delia's own feelings toward her mother. The confrontation reveals the cyclical nature of violence and the ways in which love, hate, and desire are inextricably linked. Delia leaves, recognizing that the past cannot be undone, only survived.

Amalia's Last Journey

Delia retraces Amalia's last journey to the beach where she drowned, seeking to understand her mother's motives and to find peace. The landscape is filled with memories of childhood, family vacations, and the rituals of protection and control that defined their lives. Delia realizes that she can never fully know why Amalia chose to die as she did, but she can claim the story as her own, transforming loss into self-knowledge. The act of drawing Amalia's hair on her own photograph becomes a final gesture of identification and release.

Becoming Amalia

In the novel's final moments, Delia accepts the inescapable inheritance of her mother's body, desires, and history. By donning Amalia's clothes, adopting her gestures, and claiming her story, Delia becomes both herself and her mother, a composite of love, violence, and longing. The boundaries between self and other, past and present, are dissolved, and Delia emerges as a new being, shaped by the troubling love that has haunted her life. The novel ends with a sense of acceptance, ambiguity, and the possibility of transformation.

Characters

Delia

Delia is the protagonist and narrator, a woman in her forties who returns to Naples after her mother's mysterious death. Her relationship with Amalia is fraught with ambivalence: she is both repelled by and deeply attached to her mother, struggling to assert her own identity while being drawn back into the web of family history. Delia is introspective, self-critical, and haunted by memories of violence, betrayal, and longing. Her journey is both an investigation into Amalia's death and a quest for self-understanding, as she confronts the ways in which she has inherited her mother's desires, fears, and wounds. Delia's psychological complexity is marked by guilt, resentment, and a yearning for connection, culminating in her acceptance of the blurred boundaries between self and other.

Amalia

Amalia, Delia's mother, is the novel's absent center, a woman whose life and death are shrouded in mystery. She is remembered as beautiful, sociable, and sensual, yet also secretive and unpredictable. Amalia's relationships—with her daughters, her husband, and her lover Caserta—are marked by both tenderness and violence. She is a survivor, adapting to poverty and abuse with resilience and humor, but also a woman who seeks pleasure and autonomy in defiance of social norms. Amalia's final acts—her journey with Caserta, her purchase of new clothes, her death by drowning—are open to multiple interpretations, reflecting her complexity and the impossibility of fully knowing another person. She is both victim and agent, mother and lover, a figure of longing and loss.

Caserta

Caserta is a shadowy figure from Amalia's past, rumored to be her lover and the source of her husband's jealousy. He is both a real person and a symbol of forbidden desire, associated with gifts, sexual innuendo, and the violence that tore the family apart. In old age, Caserta becomes a pathetic, almost comical figure, obsessed with Amalia and entangled in a senile game of exchange and revenge. His relationship with Delia is marked by confusion, resentment, and a shared history of betrayal. Caserta embodies the novel's themes of sexual ambiguity, the persistence of the past, and the ways in which desire can both liberate and destroy.

Polledro (Antonio)

Polledro, the son of Caserta and Delia's childhood companion, reappears as an adult, managing the lingerie shop and carrying the burdens of his family's history. His relationship with Delia is charged with unresolved sexual tension, nostalgia, and mutual resentment. Polledro is both a victim and a perpetrator, shaped by the violence and confusion of his upbringing. His attempts to assert control—over his father, his business, and Delia—are ultimately futile, revealing the limits of agency in the face of inherited trauma. Polledro's character highlights the cyclical nature of abuse and the difficulty of escaping the past.

Uncle Filippo

Uncle Filippo, Amalia's brother, is a figure of both support and complicity. He helps Delia navigate the bureaucratic aftermath of Amalia's death, but is also deeply enmeshed in the family's history of violence and denial. Filippo's loyalty to his sister is tempered by his allegiance to her husband, and his memories are colored by self-justification and selective amnesia. He represents the older generation's inability to confront the truth, preferring to blame outsiders and maintain the status quo. Filippo's character underscores the ways in which family bonds can both protect and imprison.

Delia's Father

Delia's father is a painter, a man consumed by jealousy, resentment, and a sense of failure. His relationship with Amalia is marked by violence, control, and an inability to accept her autonomy. He projects his own insecurities onto his wife and daughters, interpreting their actions as betrayals and responding with rage. In old age, he is isolated, embittered, and obsessed with the past, unable to forgive or be forgiven. His character embodies the destructive power of patriarchal authority and the ways in which love can be twisted into possession and cruelty.

Signora De Riso

Signora De Riso is Amalia's neighbor, a woman of similar age who oscillates between friendship and suspicion. She provides Delia with crucial information about Amalia's last days, but her accounts are colored by gossip, envy, and her own loneliness. De Riso represents the community's role in policing and narrating women's lives, as well as the limits of empathy and understanding. Her interactions with Delia are marked by a mixture of solidarity and rivalry, reflecting the complexities of female relationships in a patriarchal society.

Delia's Sisters

Delia's two sisters are peripheral but significant figures, representing the fragmentation of the family and the different ways of coping with trauma. Their relationships with Delia are marked by distance, mutual incomprehension, and a shared reluctance to confront the past. The sisters' absence from much of the narrative underscores Delia's isolation and the difficulty of maintaining connections in the aftermath of violence and loss.

The City of Naples

Naples is more than a setting; it is a character in its own right, shaping and reflecting the lives of its inhabitants. The city's dialect, smells, and rhythms are inseparable from Delia's memories and identity. Naples is a place of beauty and decay, violence and vitality, a repository of family history and collective trauma. The city's labyrinthine streets and oppressive atmosphere mirror the psychological complexity of the characters and the inescapability of the past.

Amalia's Clothes

The garments Amalia leaves behind—her old suit, new lingerie, and the suitcase—are charged with symbolic meaning. They represent the mother's body, the inheritance of desire, and the possibility of transformation. Delia's act of wearing her mother's clothes is both a ritual of mourning and a gesture of self-creation, embodying the novel's central themes of identity, memory, and the troubling love that binds mothers and daughters.

Plot Devices

Fragmented Narrative and Unreliable Memory

Ferrante employs a fragmented, nonlinear narrative that mirrors Delia's psychological state and the elusive nature of truth. The story unfolds through a series of memories, hallucinations, and confessions, blurring the boundaries between past and present, reality and fantasy. The use of unreliable memory as a plot device underscores the difficulty of reconstructing the past and the ways in which trauma distorts perception. The narrative is punctuated by objects—clothes, photographs, phone calls—that serve as triggers for recollection and catalysts for action. Foreshadowing is achieved through recurring motifs of water, violence, and doubling, creating a sense of inevitability and unresolved tension. The novel's structure invites the reader to participate in the process of interpretation, mirroring Delia's own search for meaning and closure.

Analysis

Troubling Love is a searing exploration of the bonds between mothers and daughters, the legacy of violence, and the struggle for self-definition in a patriarchal world. Ferrante's novel interrogates the ways in which women's bodies, desires, and histories are shaped by family, community, and the city itself. The narrative's ambiguity and refusal of easy answers reflect the complexity of love, memory, and trauma. Delia's journey is both a detective story and a psychological odyssey, culminating in the recognition that identity is always provisional, shaped by the stories we inherit and the ones we tell ourselves. The novel's lessons are both personal and political: the necessity of confronting the past, the dangers of denial and repression, and the possibility of transformation through acceptance and self-knowledge. Ferrante's prose is raw, intimate, and unflinching, offering a powerful meditation on the costs and consolations of troubling love.

Last updated: September 11, 2025