Normal People


I finished reading "Normal People" by Sally Rooney this week. What a treat. The book revolves around a relationship between Marianne Sheridan and Connell Waldron; two broken and confused college students just trying to figure what life is all about. On the surface, I thought the book was about their relationship, but after some thought I believe it's less about their relationship and more about them as individuals. Or about individuals in general. 

To sum the characters up, Connell is an anxious but well treated boy from a poor family, and Marianne is an anxious and mistreated girl from a rich family. Neither of them have fathers, both of them are highly intelligent, and at varying degrees they both don't know what's best for themselves. Sabotage, communication issues, anxiety and depression, and any other regular human problems that two undeveloped people face together all come to light between them. This is what makes them normal people, despite the author's efforts to convince you otherwise. 

"It's not like this with other people." 

Rooney's writing comes with the cost of your emotional well being. Rotating between right now and back then, she guides you in and out of memories shared between or independent to the characters. As I read, I had an odd sense of connection to the words, like I was stumbling through the moments with the two characters. Around chapter three, I realized the difference between this and anything else I've read was the present tense. You read it, and you are here with Marianne and Connell. You're sitting in bed with them, or maybe at the coffee shop smoking a cigarette next to them. And then you're wisped away to the between times; the times where they were apart or the times where things weren't as good as right now. Noticing the pattern was a delight, and I want more like this.

The way Rooney stacks sentences on a page is like a beautiful mosaic of poetry that all comes together in a gut-punch line that's so subtle that it takes a minute for it to break the blood brain barrier. At times, I had to put the book down and take a breath away from the paper to figure out why a sentence stung so much. I could not fathom how someone could possibly bring life to the innermost thoughts of myself and others I know, but then it became obvious that it screams to me because I'm a normal person. 

"In school she had believed herself to be above such frank exchanges of social capital, but her college life indicated that if anyone in school had actually been willing to speak to her, she would have behaved just as badly as anyone else. There is nothing superior about her at all."


My copy of Normal People from Amazon has a quote by a reviewer who states that the book "Demands to be read compulsively all at once in one sitting." During the opening scenes, I was on board with that belief; it's emotional, it's punchy, at times has sentences akin to Rupi Kaur so it's not hard to read (that's not an insult, but please don't think that I'm a fan of Kaur), and has a compelling narrative that makes you want to flip the pages.
From start to finish, I believe it took me about six hours, all of which were spread out over five days. In my opinion, this book demands to be bitten, not devoured. If I'd read it all at once, I don't think it would have had the impact on me. Some words need to simmer. 


Like life, there is no grande finale, and there aren’t any climaxes to the story. Snippets from a very lived in world mixed with an eerily introspective narrative make each moment in their lives feel like something big is happening, something meaningful. Just as our lives feel ever so important on the day to day, nothing ever really happens. When something does happen, we react to it, and carry on with our lives. We act as if the day after is just the same as the day before last, and we assimilate to our own normal goings on.

If I were to recommend this book to anyone it would be the person who's lived a little bit of life. Some experience under their belt, some dirt under their fingernails. If that person is you, I have a copy on my shelf you could borrow. If it's not, then I'll see you in a year. 

Take care,

C. A. Winter 









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