I had little knowledge of what to expect when I initially picked up Sally Rooney’s “Normal People.” I was aware of all the hype surrounding it, with some praising it and others criticizing it as being overhyped. By the time I finished, I knew why it had sparked such strong and dividing feelings in so many people. There aren’t many dramatic occurrences or significant storyline twists in this novel; rather, it persists in the quiet intensity of a connection between two people who aren’t quite sure how they fit together or apart, in little moments. I found it to be incredibly moving due to that subtlety.
The narrative is surprisingly straightforward. It tracks two people as they grow up and transition from adolescence to maturity, leaving and entering each other’s lives through the years. The emotional tug-of-war between them is what keeps you turning the pages, not any big surprises or overarching plots. Rooney has a talent for illustrating the complexity of intimacy and how one person may simultaneously be your savior and your downfall. I became interested because I wanted to know how they would navigate one another, not because I was frantic to know what would happen.
Rooney’s writing requires some tweaking. She uses simple, nearly bare sentences and avoids using quotation marks. I initially believed it may be obtrusive, but it soon became inconspicuous, and I eventually recognized it added a certain rawness to the novel. It feels comparable to being inside someone’s head, rather than reading a conventional narrative; conversations flow naturally into inner thoughts. Her writing isn’t ostentatious, but it’s sharp — sometimes excruciatingly so. Frequently, I would pause after a straightforward line because it was so powerful, as it had taken me by surprise.
The issues that Rooney explores without ever preaching are what truly stuck with me. Class, for example, subtly permeates the narrative — how social background, wealth and privilege influence how you see yourself, as well as how other people perceive you. The protagonists’ journey across this barrier seemed quite authentic. The emphasis on communication — or, more frequently, miscommunication — was equally noteworthy. The tension is mostly caused by what isn’t said rather than what is. Reading that made me painfully aware of how often relationships fail due to underlying issues and how frequently individuals expect others to read their minds. Then there is love itself, of course. The messy, infuriating and thrilling kind that most of us are familiar with in real life, not the tidy, happily-ending one. Rooney portrays love as something that both enriches and complicates life, something that both can heal and wound.
Admittedly, there were times when I was annoyed by the characters. They occasionally injure each other in ways that seem preventable, like making blunders and saying inappropriate things. They felt so human, though, for the same reason. They’re not perfect; they had flaws that made me think of individuals I know and occasionally even myself. Although this realization is unsettling, it is also what makes the book so emotionally compelling. By the end, I felt as though I had actually seen something, rather than the satisfaction of a neatly wrapped-up plot.
Of course, not everyone will enjoy “Normal People.” It may seem unimpressive to readers who like books with complex worldbuilding, fast-paced narratives or obvious conclusions. It additionally has a weight to it, not in a dramatic sense, but more in the quiet aching of how complex individuals can be. That honesty was what made it incredibly compelling for me, but I can see how it could be exhausting or even infuriating for others.
Would I suggest that somebody read this book given my experience? Yes, but not to all people or stages of life. It’s the type of book you should read when you want to reflect on your life; it invites you to sit with it instead of reading it quickly. In addition to telling a story, the book asks you to consider your own life, including your past romantic relationships, blunders and silences. The way it made “normal” look anything but ordinary is what really impressed me. It served as a reminder that often the most potent stories are the ones that don’t seem like much at first glance, and that even the simplest interactions may have the most profound meaning.
When I closed the book, I didn’t feel a sense of finality. Instead, I felt as though Rooney had left me with an echo, one that kept resonating long after. And that, to me, is the mark of a novel worth reading.
