A Romance Novel for the Pensive
By: Lourdes Okoro
Normal People by Sally Rooney follows two characters, Connell and Marianne, who exist much like parallel lines—they come close, skin to skin even, but never really touch—not emotionally, at least. There is always something in the way: people they decide to see in the middle, feelings, class differences, and self-doubt. The journey is long, enigmatic, and frankly frustrating, but in the best way possible.
The story begins in County Sligo, Ireland, during Connell and Marianne’s secondary school years. While Connell is popular, Marianne keeps to herself, and they are connected through Connell’s mother, Lorraine, who works as a domestic worker for Marianne’s wealthier family. At school, they pretend not to know each other—but when night falls, and they’re alone, they only know each other. Readers evolve with them, through the end of secondary school into university, where their dynamics flip, and complications arise.
One thing that was absolutely outstanding to me about Normal People is how closely the title aligns with the novel's content and characterization. There’s nothing extraordinary about anything in their lives; hence, it's normal. Reading Normal People feels like watching a playback of memories filmed by a camera turned on mid-conversation—the dialogue is grounded, and occasionally political, and the characters are much like people you would encounter in real life, unlike trying to sympathize with a morally tortured character from a nineteenth-century Russian novel. Connell and Marianne’s personalities, in particular, feel strikingly real and extremely relatable. They’re plagued by the same growing pains every young person experiences in the awkward “anything goes” stage of the final year of high school and the early years of adulthood.
Connell and Marianne both have such extensive inner worlds that we are given the privilege of exploring through Rooney’s alternating point-of-view style. Connell is endearing—brilliant in every way except when it comes to his love life, while Marianne is complex, with a storm cloud of self-loathing gloomily trailing after her that colors every interaction she has. But the crux of the narrative is that around each other, they bloom like flowers in spring—open, trusting, letting each other in like bees collecting nectar. They understand each other, mind and body, and yet they still push and pull in ways that are sure to make you grip your hair in frustration.
Many writers try to capture the lonely, awkward adolescent experience but end up with a cliché Disney-like coming-of-age narrative. Nothing has generated as much empathy from me as Normal People, and I think the fact that it’s so regular and relatable is Sally Rooney’s superpower. Normal People is specially made for those who think too much, too fast, and too long. For those who spend more time in their head than in the world, a gentle reminder to step out of your mind for once, and try not to do things you’ll regret, as well as keep those who love you close.
