An unbreakable, life-changing friendship will lead two young girls from different worlds to rebel against the sexism, prejudice, and injustice they face living in 1930s Italy in this moving novel that echoes the spirit of beloved works by Elena Ferrante.It is 1936, and in the small Italian city of Monza, on the pebbled bank of the Lambro, two frantic girls scramble to bury a body—the dead son of the city's most prominent fascist. If they are discovered, their lives and the fierce friendship they share will be in jeopardy.A year earlier, Francesca Strada, the respectable and well-behaved daughter of bourgeois parents, yearns for a life beyond provincial conformity. She is fascinated by Maddalena, the town's rebellious outcast whom neighbors call “the cursed one.” Stubborn and proud, the young girl embraces their scorn, flouting social convention and gaining both ire and disapproval. Her indomitable nature–the unrestrained spirit of someone completely unafraid–fascinates Francesca. Then, one day, escaping the vigilant eye of her parents, Francesca finds herself caught in her first ever lie trying to protect Maddalena only to befriend her.Quickly becoming inseparable, Maddalena teaches Francesca to defy animals, overcome her fear of blood, and revel in her body, recognizing it as something alive and present. But the threat from Mussolini's fascist goons is growing and Maddalena and Francesca become increasingly aware that as girls, they are not the free and independent individuals they yearn to be. Set against the backdrop of the Abyssinian war, The Cursed Friend is a timeless tale of female friendship, navigating loss and adolescence, and discovering the courage to denounce oppression and patriarchy.
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The Cursed Friend comes out TODAY on May 7, 2024, and you can purchase HERE!
They called her the Cursed One and nobody liked her.
Saying her name brought bad luck. She was a witch, one of those who can mark you with the scent of death. She had the devil inside, and I was never to talk to her. I would watch her from a distance on Sundays, when Mom made me wear the shoes that sliced my heels, clumpy stockings, and my best dress, which I had to take care not to soil. Sweat would drip down my neck and the constant chafing reddened my thighs.
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