Let’s break down exactly why two sharp, brilliant women like Lenù and Lila both fell under Nino’s spell.
Starting with Lenù: she spent her whole life imitating and chasing after Lila. She struggled with low self-esteem. She always felt small and inferior living in Lila’s shadow. She advanced only through relentless effort and endurance, never recognizing that her own genius was every bit Lila’s equal. She needed outside validation to confirm her worth. Lila was perfectly capable of giving her that recognition, yet she never did—and this gap laid the groundwork for so much tragedy, as I’ve discussed before.
Then Nino arrived. The professor's son, educated and articulate, skilled at social critique and thoughtful conversation. He gave Lenù the sense that she truly belonged to the world of intellect. She grew infatuated, even reverent toward him. Even after she saw his flaws clearly, it took endless inner struggle to reach that understanding. She could never cut ties cleanly in one choice; it was the slow, sinking swamp we all know too well.
Because Nino let her breathe. He made her feel she could stand firm, without being crushed by Lila’s overwhelming talent. That became a vital need for Lenù, tied directly to the shape of her own gifts.
Most people first fix on Lila’s striking, natural genius. She mastered everything with ease, no struggle required. Every line she wrote held raw vitality, and her intuition saw right through pretense and lies.
We can all appreciate Lila’s genius to some degree, but I don’t believe any kind of genius is truly one-of-a-kind. History has many overlooked geniuses — countless bright people worn down and broken before the world notices them, as well as the great writers, artists and scientists who define our time. Comparing genius is endless. There will always be someone more gifted. Lenù tied her self-worth to talent, which stopped her from seeing her own inherent qualities.
I think that talent is merely a tool. In truth, we all carry some form of gift, even those who seem most vulgar, trapped within trivial, mundane life. Many simply never find the space or freedom to nurture what lies within them.
Different gifts guide us along different paths of growth, but when we cling to our own talent, convinced we are special, better than others, destined for grand, visible achievement, we fall into delusion (moha: spiritual darkness, rooted in self‑attachment and separation from true wisdom)—and sadly, this marked Lila’s first surrender to ego attachment.
In Buddhist terms, Lila held deep intuitive wisdom, yet her mental stability was fragile, her faith frail, and her capacity for compassionate goodness underdeveloped. She was innately sensitive to beauty and truth, able to cut through chaos and grasp what truly matters. But she lacked the patience to walk a difficult path through to the end. Her emotions shifted violently; she could not bear imperfection, compromise, or long waiting. At the first hint of flaw or disappointment, she would lash out, breaking connections and peace without distinguishing between friend and foe.
Great innate insight without steady practice inevitably leads to self‑destruction. Only after losing everything, broken apart by extreme pain, did she finally gain true understanding. And in the end, she chose to disappear.
Lenù’s gift lies in rooted faith and inner goodness. Her intuition is subtle. She learns, observes and reflects to understand the world, yet she is often misled by superficial things, for her natural insight remains relatively limited. Still, she keeps moving forward. She pushes through uncertainty and imperfection, processes every experience, heals herself over and over, and stays grounded where Lila cannot.
Her inner goodness let her endure years of hardship without turning bitter. She never retaliated against Lila or Nino. She simply chose to walk away. She often wondered if status, fame and success were hollow, and if Lila was right to write off her books as ugly and pretentious.
Yet the skills she built steadily, her writing, her body of work, her willingness to care for and support others—including Lila—held inherent, lofty meaning all along.
Lila’s clarity arrived in sudden, blinding flashes of insight; Lenù’s art was forged slowly, shaped by time and lived experience.
Neither is superior to the other. Genius takes different forms, and Lenù’s version has always been deeply underrated.
Many people relate more to Lenù, while others call her fake and favor Lila, arguing that Lenù took over her life and even wrote books about her. Those who hate Lila believe she hurt many people, and Enzo endured her most hidden harm. I think we all relate to these two women in different ways, so there is no clear black‑and‑white judgment to make. After all, Ferrante carved these two figures from opposite sides of her own soul.
As an INFP subtype, my dominant cognitive function is Ni. I would normally resonate more with Lila, but I find myself relating more to Lenù. This is not to say I cannot understand Lila. I deeply relate to her when she describes the world’s boundaries fading away. It's only when facing real-life choices that I find myself leaning toward Lenù’s way of acting.
I think it comes down to personal experience: creating work alongside someone else. I ended up gaining mainstream recognition—enough to cover my daily bills, and I could feel a subtle shift in how she treated me. Like Lenù, most of us have been tamed by ordinary life. Our life experience shows us the high price we pay for holding onto that uncompromising idealism.
Buddhist teachings warn against idle, flowery speech. I used to talk in overly polished ways for work and social life, and I look back on that and find it gross. I've gradually fixed that over time — but every nice thing I say about people I care about and people I like is always genuine.
So ultimately, most of us are shaped like Lenù. We've all been worn down by life, and we know how high the cost is if we give up our place in society and worldly success. Material stability really does keep us away from unnecessary trouble and danger. Buddhism teaches practice within the mortal world. Lenù’s way of life is exactly her own path of spiritual cultivation.
