Forbidden Notebook by Alba de Céspedes

22.02.2023

I have started to read the Forbidden Notebook by Alba De Céspedes. It starts with a foreword, actually two of them. One is by Jhumpa Lahiri and the other is by the translator Ann Goldstein herself.

I wish more books would have forewords. It is like reading the abstract of a research paper, it shows you what’s waiting for you and it also prepares you for what is to come. And important books (because it is for me) like this one desperately need it to make them whole. To present the life encapsulated within its pages with the love and care it deserves. I can’t tell you how excited I am to read this novel and I’m extremely grateful for the chance to get to know Alba De Céspedes’ work.. 

23.02.2023

The diary starts on November 26, 1950, and Valeria shared the origin story of how the notebook which was forbidden to buy on a Sunday ended up in her possession. It seemed rather irrational. More of a calling rather than something calculated. It reminded me of the movie where the woman who was in the same family situation as she ended up being a professional puzzle player because she had 2 seconds one day to sit down and do something random. I love that movie. Oh, I just looked for the title: Puzzle. No wonder I didn’t remember it. Not because it’s not interesting but because simple things tend to slip away from my attention most of the time. My brain works at full power so it uses its filter for irrelevant information more than I want. This book also made me wonder if I should keep on writing my reviews as a diary. It actually helps me a lot in the process of writing. I found it quite difficult to gather my thoughts and give words to my feelings after the whole book is finished. If I’m lucky I’m inspired and that fire keeps me up at night and makes me write quite fast and rather passionately, but I miss the genuine step-by-step way of writing every day. I miss the routine, the savouring of every word and thought and not caring too much about being perfect. Perfection kills my writing. It really does. Perfection lies in editing but not when I’m writing for the first time. On the other hand, I tried so many times to keep diaries but it was just too messy. Too painful, too aggressive. I either sounded overly positive or someone who hates everything and everyone. And the more I wanted to sound sophisticated the less honest I was in phasing my thoughts. But I love reading other people’s diaries when I’m allowed. It’s always liberating and inspiring. Leaves no chance for critical thinking about plot lines or characters or whatever comes with writing fiction. It’s just thoughts. And feelings. Like reading someone’s inner monologue. I find it peaceful and reassuring. Makes me feel less alone. 

24.02.2023

I try to imagine how hard it could have been for her to write her thoughts and inner feelings down. Especially about her family. It would be difficult for me as well since this is quite a complicated and sometimes challenging task that if discovered would cause harm and discrepancy between us but on the other side probably would help us to understand each other as well. There are so many things we keep hidden and quiet and sometimes I wonder how much of that would actually be more beneficial for us if we could just be honest with each other. 

25.02.2023

I admire the way she can completely analyze her family without even realizing how detailed her observations are. Her character could have been an outstanding scientist. She is very strong and cool-headed also. I guess this comes with motherhood sort of like an upgrade patch without the fun part. Maybe there is fun in it. It’s just hiding underneath the great pyramids called: sacrifice, house chores and mundanity. As I said before; here is the reason why I’m not writing a diary in any shape or form. Look at the list of complaints I have already given. But I truly enjoy this book. I love its complexity but simplicity at the same time. I like the sneak peek that I get into a family’s life from Italy in the fifties and think about how my family could have looked like in those times. My father wasn’t even born then. 

I’m almost halfway through the book and I can hardly put it down. When I do I only do it to scribble my zigzagging thoughts down before they elude me completely.

26.02.2023

I wonder if my mom saw me the same way Valeria saw Mirella. Like if I always had a storm in my head. Ready to explode even due to the smallest inconvenience. I mean usually, that’s how girls are in their teenage years. I absolutely thought I had all the right to be pissed off (and I do think sometimes I did) but now looking back I should have been a little more patient with her. With myself. With everything around me. Now, apart from not having kids I can relate more to Valeria to a certain degree. Although my other half does not resemble Michele, her husband. I also found it pretty impressive how both her kids were studying forward and having a degree. No wonder they had their own opinion about everything. 

27.02.2023

I really wasn’t expecting this much hidden, pressured built-up drama that I have read so far. What a surprising diary in every way. First, it was just the ‘dare of doing’ the impossible braveness of a housewife, a mamma’s way of rebelling against the low humming of time and its never-ending movement. Or not even that. To be called a housewife, to be called a mamma is what made her riot in her soul in the first place. And that’s one of the aspects that I could understand more than anything. I don’t want to be called mom by my husband. It just doesn’t feel right to me either. 

28.02.2023

Sometimes I feel like I understand her and even relate to her the same way as every woman can relate to each others. Other times I couldn’t understand her way of being like Mirella couldn’t understand her own mom. In the end, she seemed much more mature than her mother and the same thing eventually happened between me and my mother. Maybe that was the reason she was always so cold with me. Because she felt like I’m criticizing her or even worse magnifying her mistakes. But I never intended to do that and I never really thought that my behaviour could be interpreted like this by the one whose direction it aims to be. 

This book made me think about my own family in a completely different way than I ever did before. Thinking about all the hidden secrets and feelings and even personalities that we hold on to with such desperate claw-like hands as if we were not a family but just a bunch of people gathered together by chance. To be honest, if you think about it this is exactly what happened. We are nothing more than gathered star dust swept up by mother fate.