‘Normal People’ succeeds in its quietest moments
Sam Jones
There are moments in Sally Rooney’s second novel “Normal People” that are crushingly, achingly beautiful. Gorgeous split-seconds of intimacy that are overwhelming in their sense of simultaneous melancholy and greater purpose that comes from two people desperate to navigate the obstacles in front of them and end up together on the other side. These actions occur knowingly and unknowingly, but each is evocative. Prose inspiring even. There are enough of these moments in Connell and Marianne’s relationship to almost make you forget all the parts that inspire you to say, “Oh, come the hell on.”
Connell and Marianne begin as teenagers with vastly different levels of social and economic capital. Connell is popular, Marianne is loathed. Connell is poor, Marianne is loaded. How will they ever get together? Well… the plot demands they do. It’s these kinds of tropes where Rooney’s title betrays her at times. Connell is a soccer star, Marianne is unbelievably disliked. Both are top of their class and scholarship winning academics, one is a legitimate masochist (We’ll get to it!) and abused by their family, and each character often feels far away from the mean.
As the leads grow, the power dynamic between the two lurches and crawls at times to new places as they find their meaning to the world and their meaning to each other.
However, Rooney salvages much of the wreckage of the initial cliches by putting Connell and Marianne on an ever-changing footing throughout the rest of the novel. When they go to Trinity College Dublin — Rooney’s real-life alma mater — it’s Marianne who thrives and Connell who feels lost. As the leads grow, the power dynamic between the two lurches and crawls at times to new places as they find their meaning to the world and their meaning to each other. It’s a quiet theme throughout the novel, but “Normal People”’s best moments are its least heavy-handed and a powerful sense of normalcy is found in the relationship itself, not the events that orbit around it.
The details of a shifting relationship, the jealousy, the instants of understanding, the mundane misunderstandings and the genuine care are so well crafted that you keep pouring through the major plot points to get to the next minor emotion. And when the tiny pieces conspire to bring significant changes, “Normal People” hits as hard as anything else. Small miscommunications lead to fury-inducing breakups and little acts of protection lead to reconciliations that leave you making sure no one notices your emotional state in public.
But there are still parts of “Normal People” that come too far off the ground. Marianne’s BDSM masochism subplot is as overbearing a way of having her reckoning with her self worth as you can imagine, and the final act borders too much on bad telenovela to be powerful.
You’re pulled back and forth between openly weeping and being acutely aware you’re reading a coming of age romance novel a little too often for it to be a classic…
“Normal People” closes perfectly though, and there’s so much that’s excellent to keep you flying through it. You’re pulled back and forth between openly weeping and being acutely aware you’re reading a coming of age romance novel a little too often for it to be a classic, but your cynicism is outwitted too often for “Normal People” to leave you feeling cold.
Impressed & Expressed 