This summer, I reread Sally Rooney’s sophomore novel, Normal People, for the first time in four years. The first time I read it, I finished it in one sitting and fell in love, but didn’t completely understand why. Was I supposed to love the main characters? Hate them? Root for them? I reread the novel with these questions in mind, hoping to answer them this time around. Four years later, I finally understand why I found the novel so compelling: it’s real. A story about two Irish teenagers whose lives intertwine across the span of four years, Normal People is, at its core, about the effects of class, wealth, and gender on romantic relationships. However, before telling people about my love for the novel, I often preface with, “I know it’s not for everyone, but,” hoping to gauge whether or not a fellow reader will understand my interpretation. In the era of BookTok and social media literary discourse, many on the internet have painted Normal People as a novel about a toxic relationship, riddled with miscommunication between two main characters who seem frustratingly unable to speak.
Normal People is set in Ireland from 2011 to 2015. Marianne and Connell attend the same high school but live in entirely different circles: Marianne comes from familial wealth and notoriously has no friends at school, while Connell is well-liked by everyone and comes from no wealth at all. When Connell’s mother becomes a cleaner for Marianne’s family, the two form a unique, secret bond that follows them to university. They experience many ups and downs, often characterized by their lack of communication and misinterpretations of each other’s feelings.
Upon rereading the novel, I have begun to resent the internet for its tendency to mischaracterize the story. When you search Normal People on TikTok, countless videos appear: fan edits of the Hulu adaptation, reviews both good and bad, analyses, rants. The novel garners reactions on both sides: some readers love it, while others express a strong disdain for it. Many have called it boring, stating that “nothing happens,” while some hate the main characters and their relationship journey. One of the largest criticisms from readers is the lack of quotation marks around dialogue. “The first time I tried to read Normal People, the lack of quotation marks made me quit,” one TikTok commenter writes. While difficult to get used to, the novel’s lack of quotation marks is an intentional stylistic choice by Rooney. Without quotation marks, the lines between what the characters are saying and what they are thinking are blurred, reflecting the constant miscommunications between them. This creates an immersive reading experience—our confusion about where thoughts end and dialogue begins mirrors the confusion that the main characters feel when communicating with each other. During Marianne and Connell’s interactions, lots of things are left unsaid. It is these complications that ultimately drive the story and make it worth reading—unconventional punctuation and all.
Prior to reading the novel, I had already seen these various debates surrounding its merits online, and anticipated a “will-they-won’t-they” romance. On Goodreads, reviewers often categorize it under the “Romance” genre. However, I feel that this label greatly oversimplifies what the novel is truly about. Reviewers who deem it nothing more than a romance often fail to examine the nuances of Rooney’s intended message. While the plot is centered on a romantic relationship, Rooney uses that relationship to make statements about class and gender. The conflicts within Marianne and Connell’s relationship often stem from their failure to communicate and be honest with each other. Fundamentally, these conflicts are rooted in their wealth disparity and patriarchal values. While in college, they break up because Connell, unable to find subsidized housing, must move back home to work. Marianne, meanwhile, lives in an apartment inherited from her parents. Connell finds it too difficult to ask, even though he knows Marianne would say yes, thinking, “It just felt too much like asking her for money.” Connell’s financial background, paired with the pressure to be “masculine” in traditional Irish society, affects his view on asking Marianne for help. It’s not a question of whether they love each other enough to be together, but rather their fundamental differences that create a large discrepancy in their communication styles.
At the root of these conflicts are the things they aren’t saying. “They never talked, for example, about the fact that her mother paid his mother money to scrub their floors and hang their laundry, or about the fact that this money circulated indirectly to Connell, who spent it, as often as not, on Marianne,” Rooney writes. Connell’s masculinity is something that he grapples with throughout the novel. Around Marianne and her wealthy inner circle, he feels insecure about being perceived as helpless, since patriarchal societies often paint men as the “breadwinners.” Marianne is equally impacted by the stereotypes of their society. Throughout the novel, her trauma leads her to seek validation from men. While travelling in Europe, Connell notices deer on the road that freeze in the headlights of cars rather than saving themselves, and compares this behavior to Marianne’s. When learning about Marianne’s abusive relationships, Connell fantasizes about harming the men who have harmed her and is “unable to reconcile himself to the idea of losing his hold over her, like a key to an empty property, left available for future use.” Because Connell feels so emasculated in the financial and social aspects of their relationship, he takes on the role of her “protector,” allowing him to regain his sense of masculinity. Although Connell feels empowered by this role, he’s also made uncomfortable by Marianne’s willingness and desire to be dominated, leading to conflict within their romantic relationship. He can’t understand why she would submit herself to mistreatment, while Marianne can’t understand why he won’t treat her like everyone else does.
The frustration that many readers feel surrounding Marianne and Connell’s lack of communication is understandable, making the depiction of their relationship all the more realistic. Rooney paints a picture of a relationship that’s transactional, if only incidentally. Connell’s proximity to Marianne and her wealth benefits him: He finds several opportunities for jobs and scholarships simply by being in her circle. “Rich people look out for each other, and being Marianne’s best friend and suspected sexual partner has elevated Connell to the status of rich-adjacent: someone for whom surprise birthday parties are thrown and cushy jobs are procured out of nowhere,” Rooney writes. In turn, Marianne receives love and attention from Connell that she lacks from other people in her life. Although they both benefit from this exchange in many ways, they never discuss it, out of fear that the other will not understand due to their fundamental differences in class, gender, and life experiences. It’s extremely realistic in the sense that these are topics that normal people find difficult to talk about. Whether it’s regarding money or status or background, it’s easy to let differences become grounds for miscommunication.
I understand readers’ frustration with Marianne and Connell’s relationship, truly. At the end of the day, who wants to root for characters that can’t seem to just speak to each other? Reading the novel, I wanted to yell through the pages, put the characters in a room, and force them to say what’s on their minds. But in a way, I think that this frustration is what makes Rooney’s writing so good. Marianne and Connell feel real—you understand them, you root for them, you hate them, you love them, and you do it over and over. And isn’t that what great literature is supposed to do: make you feel? Sally Rooney’s writing takes on a very specific style: character-driven, structurally unique, almost matter-of-fact. She writes with no intention of embellishing or being dramatic, but rather creates characters that endure reflective internal journeys. The trajectory of Marianne and Connell’s relationship is succinctly laid out by the first line of the novel: “Marianne answers the door when Connell rings the bell.” This simple line explains the dynamic between the characters, which remains constant throughout the novel. Marianne is willing to be “used” in order to be loved, making herself available to Connell. Connell sees Marianne as a stable pillar in his life and knows that she will always be there. This is emphasized by the last line of the novel, spoken by Marianne: “You should go. I’ll always be here. You should know that.” Rooney writes not for a dramatic plot but rather to explore human relationships and the class dynamics that impact them. Normal People isn’t a romance, or an example to live by; it’s a harrowing and realistic depiction of a complicated relationship plagued by unspoken questions.
