Valeria buys a notebook illegally (on Sunday when the seller should have sold only tobacco). But after buying it, she still considers her notebook forbidden because she thinks her family wouldn’t approve of her writing the diary. The very first sentences in the notebook (and also the first sentences of this novel) tell us she considers this writing in a diary as something forbidden.

"I was wrong to buy this notebook, very wrong. But it’s too late now for regrets, the damage is done."

Keeping a diary causes Valeria to analyze daily occurrences more closely. She notices everyday events that previously went unnoticed. Before starting her diary, these occurrences slipped her mind entirely. Writing in her diary becomes a routine, a vital practice for Valeria. The diary serves as her sanctuary, a place where she feels safe. (She doesn’t have a room of her own, or even a drawer).

Valeria, at first, wanted to write a serene story of her family. In the end, however, the story does not turn out serene at all. As she continues to write in her diary, she uncovers more and more things that bother her. She realizes that no one helps her with the household chores, and everyone expects her to do them. She is always tired and realizes that her family does not understand her.

I can’t help but notice that this is, in a way, such a timeless story about finding your own voice, about a woman who wants to be treated as an individual and not just a part of the family. Not just a mother or a housewife (the one who cooks, cleans, or irons clothes).

This book drew me in because I absolutely love Jhumpa Lahiri, who wrote the forward, and the book description claims that the author inspired Elena Ferrante. I know there are beautiful sentences in this book, and I might pick it back up later, but an interesting premise took too long to execute its plot, and I just couldn't get into it.

Writing leads to an examined life....

The shiny black of the notebook first attracted Valeria, then the word 'Forbidden' completely hooked her in. Thus began her hidden journey into self awareness and awareness of what is around, what was around and what is to come.

Through the notebook Valeria becomes. She examines her life, her past, her family and her future. She also comes to reluctantly admire her daughter who she has brought up bound by the rules her own mother taught her and who challenges these rules all the time, thus making Valeria take a deep look at the rules herself.

Through Valeria, Cespedes examines old values against new values. Old generations against the young generations. Families that include old values, new values, older people, younger people and the ones that bridge them understanding both and being understood by neither side.

An ARC kindly provided by publishers via Netgalley

I really appreciated how modern and timely this novel feels, even though it was written in the early 50s. The tension between mothers and daughters, wives and husbands, the identity of mothers as individuals, women who work both in the home and outside of the home, class and the struggle to move up in the world... this all feels so relevant to daily life in the 21st century. Maybe the only way I remembered it was written 70 years ago was that the legacy of WWII in Italy was still very strong here. The post-war years in Europe were very different than in the U.S., so I appreciated that insight.

Highly recommend this insightful, honest look at identity and womanhood, that remains just as relevant now as I'm sure it did on its original publication.

An Italian housewife keeps a diary on the sly in a black notebook.
In her entries she details her fear of someone finding her illicit writings and discovering her secrets.
Writing gives her an opportunity to express her hidden thoughts and opinions. She tries to juggle her family, her responsibilities, and her hidden romance on the side.
I could, relate to the main character because as one who writes in a journal, I don’t want anyone prying into my thoughts.
I felt sad for her because changes in her family causes her to have to give up some of her dreams.

Alba de Céspedes' The Forbidden Notebook is the story of one year in the life of a post World War II Italian family as written in a diary by the mother, Valeria Cossati. The Cossati family is made up of Valeria, typically referred to as "momma" by the rest; Michele the father and aspiring writer; oldest child on the cusp of adulthood Mirella; and the young, cosseted son Riccardo. We also meet colleagues, extended family and an occasional friend.

Bought on an impulse, and illegally, Valeria begins to secretly write a diary that shares the name of the title. Moving chronological, entry by entry, we see the day to day life of the Cossati family. Valeria is tired, often taken advantage of or ignored, about to see her children move out and has become estranged from her husband and many of her friends. One of the few things that keep her going is a job she is happy with and growing attraction for her boss.

Céspedes writes well, giving Valeria a strong voice as Valeria begins to grow and reflect on her life, noting that now that she writes in her notebook she has a better recall of events and tries to learn from her mistakes. She is forever trying to reconcile her own life and upbringing with that of her children's in a world that she doesn't always remember has changed.

As we only have Valeria's words and viewpoints, some is made clear, other is left hinted but largely unknown. Valeria grows to have the strength to find what she loves and accept those things that she cannot control.

Forbidden Notebook – Alba de Cespedes (translated from Italian by Ann Goldstein)

Another upcoming release, this one is out on 17th January 2023 through @astrahouse – thanks to them and @netgalley for this copy!

A 1952 publication from Italy, “The Forbidden Notebook” tells the story of Valeria Cossati, a woman unaware of how unhappy she has become with her life. She has a husband, two children, all the trappings of social acceptability, which is fine for her, until she starts writing her thoughts and feelings in a little black book she keeps hidden in a closet. At first she is almost traumatised by the illicitness:

“I was wrong to buy this notebook, very wrong. But it’s too late now for regrets, the damage is done.”

Soon, however, she begins to scrutinize herself and her life more closely, and she soon realizes that her individuality is being stifled by her devotion and sense of duty toward her husband, daughter, and son, as well as the expectations of a patriarchal society. At first, she seems unaware, making comments that the reader sees clearly, for example:

“I thought maybe I’m starting to get irritable, cranky, like all women— it’s said— when they pass forty.”

Quickly, however, internal family conflicts and revelations tear at the fabric of her family life, forcing her to take stock of everything she has and reevaluate what she finds important, and .

“Facing these pages I’m afraid: all my feelings, thus dissected, rot, become poison, and I’m aware of becoming the criminal the more I try to be the judge.”

An interesting, psychologically precise description of a woman finding a room of her own and both the joys and new challenges that come with it. It’s well-written, full of complex characters, I’m very happy to recommend this one if you’re a fan of Elena Ferrante or Doris Lessing – it feels like a good choice for republication.

Does this sound like something in your wheelhouse?

The Forbidden Notebook is a novel that has the quality of something meticulously embroidered: its writing so intentional, its insights so particular, that what you get in the end is something that, like embroidery, feels intricate and painstakingly made--also, so very impressive. The premise of The Forbidden Notebook is a seemingly straightforward one, and indeed one that has long been mined for narrative interest: a housewife becomes increasingly aware of her discontent with her life. And yet the way de Céspedes takes this premise and makes it her own is just remarkable; the narrative that she gives us here is a testament to how, in the right author's hands, a premise like this can provide the grounds for fresh, invigorating, and really profound storytelling.

What is most striking to me about this novel is its precision, the nuance and care with which it presents the interiority of its protagonist, Valeria. It's such a psychologically rich novel, written with a keen eye for the ways in which we are fallible, liable to contradict ourselves, to elide uncomfortable truths. We get to see this unfold through Valeria's entries, which she writes in her "forbidden notebook": entries where she is especially attuned to the dynamics of gender, labour, and money. The family is a microcosm for these issues, and the dynamics of Valeria's family in particular are no exception. There is her fraught, though deeply moving relationship with her daughter, who challenges what Valeria takes for granted about women's roles in romantic and professional spheres. There is Valeria's son, a kind of foil to her daughter, who is more embedded in what's considered "traditional," though this becomes complicated as the novel goes on. And of course there is Valeria's relationship to her husband: its romantic and sexual elements, its economic underpinnings (Valeria works to supplement her husband's income), and, by extension, the division of labour that is attendant to it. On top of all of this, which I thought was fascinating, I loved, too, both Valeria and de Céspedes's attention to spaces and the many ways in which they contour or bring into distinction the characters' identities and roles: the bedroom, the kitchen, the office, the streets.

More broadly, The Forbidden Notebook is a very layered novel in the way that Valeria tries to understand herself through writing while we also try to understand her through that very writing. Her investment in her own project--however unclear that project is to her sometimes--is also our investment in that same project. Those two things--Valeria's reading of herself, and our reading of her--also enrich the story and add to its already complex dynamics. On the one hand you want to give credence to Valeria's understanding of herself, but on the other you become increasingly attuned to the fact--as Valeria herself does, sometimes--that she is often not truthful to herself, unwilling to put into writing what she really thinks or feels about something. What we get, then, is a tension that persists throughout the novel (one that Jhumpa Lahiri nicely points out in her foreword): a tension between the diary as this way of gaining deep, unfettered access to Valeria's psychology, and the diary as a kind of tool to avoid or gloss over certain truths by way of the editorializing or narrativizing that writing allows.

Incisive, lucid, searing, The Forbidden Notebook is the kind of novel that, to me, feels like a miniature: scaled down but at the same time speaking for something bigger than itself. It's a stunning character study, a feat of realist writing that's a testament to how utterly absorbing it can be to become invested in the small dramas of someone's everyday life.

(Thank you to Astra House for providing me with an eARC of this via NetGalley!)

On Sunday November 26, 1950, Valeria Cossati did the unthinkable. She purchased a black notebook from a tobacconist who was allowed to sell tobacco only on Sundays. Hidden under her coat, she brought the forbidden notebook home. "A diary...both an object and a place, both a literary practice and a room of one's own. In lieu of walls and a door, pen and paper will suffice to allow Valeria...to speak her mind...to have a voice, hold opinions and secrets...". First, a hiding place must be found to squirrel away this prized possession.

"In the entire house, I no longer had a drawer, or any storage space that was still mine." Valeria Cossati, the forty-three year old mother of law students, Mirella and Riccardo. Husband Michele, a bank employee, barely eked out a living. Valeria was required to work to supplement the family income.

"It seems embarrassing to resort to childish subterfuges in order to write in a notebook". She constantly worried that her husband would find the notebook, sometimes placing the household account book next to her. If Michele entered the kitchen suddenly, the notebook must be covered at all costs.

Valeria dreamt of a writing place, her own space. She could only compose her thoughts late at night when the family was asleep. Through her scrutiny, she realized her unhappiness, partly, because Michele came home from work, read the newspaper, listened to the radio and ultimately relaxed. After work, she needed to cook, clean, and mend. Sometimes, Michele told her "to rest". As soon as she opened a newspaper, she was approached, "mamma since you have nothing to do, could you...".

"...it seems...I'd lost those I love forever if in reality they're different from what I've always imagined. And if...I myself am different from what they imagine." "I-who have always considered myself an honest and faithful woman-have now accepted the possibility of lying...".

Always anxiety ridden, channeling her inner thoughts and feelings through the written word, she was constantly conflicted. "...maybe everything I've been thinking I see around me lately isn't true. Maybe it's the notebook's fault. I should destroy it. What if it's found in the trash?

"Forbidden Notebook" by Alba de Cespedes, is as relevant today as when it was written. In Valeria's world of post-war Rome, marriage and family were her fate "even more than [her] calling. [She] had only to trust, to obey." She reflected on her life, a diversion that was challenging. Were any life changes forthcoming? Although family and societal expectations are ever evolving today, many issues remain constant. A traditional upbringing is often superceded by the different perspectives of the next generation.

Thank you Astra Publishing House and Net Galley for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.