Normal People: A Novel (edition 2020)

A millennial anti-romance, Sally Rooney's Normal People portrays an unusual relationship between its two protagonists propelled and hurled by the stretching years and thinning time as they are consistently caught by the slap of ambiguity and kick of ambivalence. Connell and Marianne are magnets that attract and repel each other in this exhaustive narrative of a love forlorn, a love sparse. Dancing in platonic and romantic swing, they are surrounded by a particular understanding privy alone to them despite their economic and social differences. But more than this cycle of falling apart and falling together, hookups and breakups, and pushing away and pulling in from teenage years to early adulthood where they are enclosed by mostly unkind and selfish people in a time prior to the harmful onset of social media addiction and explosion, Normal People touches and resonates; its almost lack of melodramatic tone holds emotional instability and angst in a palpable and authentic head space I could invest my own feelings and experiences in. This hurts, frustrates, and drains then deliberately let goes. However, the amount of abuse and trauma can be excessive and puzzling specially in the latter half of the novel. And there is only enough level of toxicity the relationship participants can handle until they are poisoned; until it begs to ask of its end. But Rooney does not answer this. Instead she lets you search your own heart and mind for what you personally want for her characters. Strangely without any logical reasons, I wanted both the best and worst for them.

There is always a drop of catastrophic beauty that appeals to me in a kind of love that keeps on coming back to each other (been there, done that, still doing it), an affection and devotion in its own manner, without having the chance of really being together. Normal People succeeds with this. I read this in a long plane ride and one of the flight attendants asked me the title of the book and I showed him the cover. He said, "Oh," then he paused and chuckled a little then spoke again, "we aren't, are we?" ( )

Up until chapter 15 I couldn’t really care less about this book. Then suddenly the author made a masterstroke and an incredible piece of writing emerged. From 15 to the end I was hooked, enthralled and couldn’t put the book down and it rested with me long after the read had finished. I have great respect for someone who can tackle such complex issues in such a surefooted way and speak to people’s vulnerability. It’s such a shame it took so long to get there, as I fear many people will not make it so far. I look forward to reading future work by this author as I believe she holds great promise. ( )

I have a wealth of ambivalence about this novel. Flashes of brilliant insight into two young people trying to fit in and feeling so oddly connected to the other person that they wonder if others ever experience the same thing. But then the annoying teenage angst and sexual hang-ups crept in and took up too much space. Connell and Marianne's emotional relationship interested me, but their sex lives were a bore. Marianne's terrible home life was almost a caricature of physically dysfunctional families.

There are several positive dynamics that are explored in an interesting way to me: class differences, gender roles, mental health, and bullying. These are dealt with in a way that I wanted to stick with the story even though I began to not care if Marianne and Connell ever ended up together. Their on again, off again, but never really together relationship became too annoying to bother with. Honestly if the book had been longer, I would have skipped ahead just to get it over with. I am glad this did not win the Man Booker because my disappointment would have been substantial. ( )

Tried listening to the audiobook for this listening to the same chapter twice and couldn’t get into it think because of the reader’s accent

This book is perplexing me and maybe that is why I quickly finished but I am still not sure what all the fuss was about. ( )