We find ourselves shortly before the Spanish Civil War (1936–1939); a group of young women comes together in a nunsʼ boarding house in Rome.
An intimate and intense friendship develops among these young women, despite their different social classes and diverse personal experiences.
It is as if the external social structure were momentarily suspended, allowing them all to live with a freedom and sincerity unthinkable out in society.

They went on confiding in one another: at first they seemed to feel a certain shyness about their aspirations, then, little by little, they laid themselves bare, even moving closer, touching each other to communicate better, until Silvia observed: ---still, it is wonderful to talk like this among ourselves, all women: if a man were here, we would never have dared speak (...).
We women are sincere only among women.
There is a singular solidarity among us.

It is a feminine world, conscious of its exceptional condition and nonetheless waiting for what comes next, when they leave the boarding house.

Here we chose one another from among so many, one might say, out of genuine affinity.
Yet it is only the continuous, daily familiarity that binds us; as soon as that falls away, an unbridgeable distance opens between us

.
And yet something will remain.

Who can forget having been mistress of herself? (...) Those who stayed behind, who passed from their motherʼs hands into their husbandʼs hands, do not forgive us for having seen new things, new faces, for having had the key to our room, coming and going at whatever hour we pleased.
And men do not forgive us for knowing as much as they do

.
Disrupting a state so rich in reciprocal humanity (as Confucius would say) is the arrival of Emanuela.

I donʼt understand what she is doing here--Silvia remarked from the bed--she doesnʼt study, did you notice? and one comes here to study

.
Emanuela is at the boarding house in Rome to be close to her daughter, born of an extramarital affair.
The young woman does not intend to reveal her peculiar situation to her friends; she pretends to be like them because she wishes she were—unencumbered, still with all of lifeʼs possibilities before her.

I belong to your group.
An oath sworn upon the common table, like the musketeers.
Eight for one, one for eight.
And now I know everything about them, who with others are so secretive and elusive.
And what do they know about me? All lies.

The flawless harmony among the young women falters, as if an alien presence, that of Emanuela, were setting fire to the dormant embers of individual destiny.
The first to leave is Xenia: she flees the boarding house after failing her degree examination, disappears without a trace, and goes to live in Milan, becoming a cynical woman who uses men for her own gain.

To her, of all pleasures this alone seemed an ineffable delight: to enjoy herself, her own company, her own image

.
Then Milly dies, gravely ill: «Her companions were right to wonder whether she had ever truly existed».
Next comes Anna, the daughter of wealthy landowners, who, as soon as she graduates, marries a peer from her own social class, shelving her studies, friendships, and freedom simply to live on her family estates.

I think, she continued earnestly, that it is a mistake to wish to leave oneʼs own social class and force oneʼs way into another

.
Vinca also leaves the boarding house—a Spanish woman who fled home to avoid living with her stepmother; she stays with compatriots awaiting news of her fiancé, who went off to fight for Franco in the civil war; her beloved, however, has married another woman there in Córdoba, and Vinca has no choice but to remain in Rome, living modestly by giving Spanish lessons.
Then there is Silvia, plain but intelligent, who graduates with honors.

And now, Silvia? Now? Nothing had changed except that 'Dr.'
she could place before her name.
She would have to do everything on her own

.
Augusta and Valentina remain, destined for spinsterhood and for this reason bound by a peculiar friendship, shielded by the walls of the boarding house.
And it is they, custodians of an utopia of female communion, who finally drive Emanuela out.

Her torso bent forward, her face next to hers, breathless, Augusta spoke to her in a muffled, murky voice: Thief! (...) Not even the other day, when you were in bed, did you speak.
(...) Yourself, always before anything else.
(...) You must leave now.
(...) Tonight, before all of them, I wanted to tell you: Get out! But then I thought that it isnʼt your fault: there are beings who, like you, are born flawed, indifferent

We are in the presence of a great female novel, perhaps the first in Italian literature.
The protagonists are women in all their complexity: their feelings, erotic reveries, and aspirations.
Men are entirely absent, and when they do appear (one need only think of Xeniaʼs trajectory), they serve merely as instruments for achieving goals conceived by the protagonist in solitude, without the contribution of the opposite sex.
The setting is the 1930s, and one can well imagine the revolutionary impact of such a narrative, even within an apparently traditional framework.
The young womenʼs paths, once they leave the boarding house, diverge into different yet entirely plausible stories: in some way, they also reflect the diverse facets of the female psyche—a coexistence of ideas, emotions, and desires that the author likely felt within her own consciousness as a young woman with so many potential destinies still ahead of her.
None of the protagonists will achieve complete fulfillment; all will, in one way or another, betray the fullness and multiplicity of female nature, resigning themselves to a single path—traditional, transgressive, or vacuous, yet always a single path, necessarily reductive of the complexity of the human soul.
Yet how many of us, men or women, abandon the multifaceted richness of youth? Perhaps because, as Silvia remarks, «living events is much easier than imagining them».

Regarding the narrative style, there is little to say: the writing is flawless, the diction elegant, the entire literary construction refined.
It is a splendid contribution to the Italian language, a demonstration of how one can write in a manner both erudite and lucidly simple.

Why read it? A great book of womenʼs literature.

No one turns back