More Than A Love Story: Normal People, Revisited
Although Sally Rooney’s hit novel ‘Normal People’ was released in 2018, it has had a slight renaissance in the past couple years in the wake of its adaptation to the small screen. I decided to read it this summer, and found myself wholly unprepared to be completely immersed in this book of life. The novel centres around two characters, Connell and Marianne, who are both very different people but are intrinsically linked and this becomes clearer as we see their (at times confusing, at times genuinely sweet) love develop over the years. We begin with these characters in their last year of school, where Connell is well liked amongst his peers, succeeding in his studies and from a working class background. Whereas Marianne is an outcast at school, and seems to not care about conforming to societal standards and comes from a wealthy family–who just so happens to have Connell’s mother as their employee. This novel follows them into college, where they reunite and seem to have completely switched social experiences, and are forced to grapple not only with this narrative flip but also their born-again romantic relationship.
Before I picked up this book, I was under the impression it was a romance story. Vogue even described this book as a ‘classic coming-of-age love story’ and, although Connell and Marianne’s intense love does take the focus of the book, I couldn’t ignore the glaring class divide between these characters. From early on we know that Connell’s mum works for Marianne as a cleaner and that our two protagonists are from different socio-economic backgrounds; during their college years, it essentially defines them. This book, along with many online, has been marketed by readers as containing a so-called ‘miscommunication trope’ and, granted, Connell and Marianne do suffer from miscommunication–however, what I realised was that Sally Rooney, a Marxist herself, is using miscommunication between Connell and Marianne to portray how class differences can impact relationships.
For instance, the scene where Connell couldn’t afford staying in his flat, but also couldn’t ask Marianne if he could stay in hers is a pivotal moment in this novel as it’s the breaking point of their relationship. What is a frustrating moment for readers is an embarrassing moment for Connell as he can’t bring himself to unveil the elephant in the room – their different circumstances. It’s mentioned that ‘he and Marianne never talked about money’ and throughout the book I felt this specific topic to be the source of most of their unspoken tension. They never spoke about their different situations when they were together and thus they could never fully communicate with each other, seeing as their different class identities are so pivotal to defining the rest of their social life. It’s as though if Connell mentions it or addresses it in any way, he feels it’ll ruin the bubble their relationship exists in. Marianne is a physical reminder to Connell about how inferior his socio-economic class is and this not only taints their relationship but makes him feel inadequate compared to her. Later, we find out that Marianne just assumed he would stay with her and that if he asked she would’ve said yes; their class difference is a pulsing barrier between them that Connell constantly feels but Marianne either likes to ignore or doesn’t notice, as it doesn’t seem to affect her negatively.
This novel is so much more than a typical love story – it is about selfhood, sexuality, class, and how different upbringings change the way you interact with people. What I found as equally fascinating as it was disturbing was Marianne’s tendency to allow herself to be degraded. She repeatedly debases and humiliates herself for the sake of having Connell love her. By proposing a secret relationship, she lets herself think she’s not worthy of respect and by being submissive and accepting harm during intimacy, she is accepting the love she thinks she is worthy of. Marianne grew up in a neglectful and abusive home and was isolated in school, and these awful moments end up bleeding into her relationships – she is used to feeling afraid in a place where she should be safe. With Connell, she completely bares herself open for the first time in her entire life and it is devastating to read. On one hand her devotion to him seems nice and shows she feels safe with him but they both seem to be uncomfortably aware that she would happily welcome him walking all over her. By degrading herself during sexually intimate moments, it’s almost like Marinette is punishing herself for being unlovable which she repeatedly says she is throughout the novel. She’s treating her relationships with other men as transactional by forcing herself to be what she thinks people want her to be due to what she’s been told her whole life by the abusers around her. Which is why when she asks Connell to hit her and he refuses, she’s confused - though she knows how she’s treated isn’t okay, she has internalised the abuse she’s received and believes there is something innately wrong with her.
One moment that stuck out to me was when Marianne confesses to Connell that she didn’t tell him about her brother abusing her when they were together because she didn’t want him to think she was damaged. However, Connell admits to himself that he ‘always thought she was damaged’. This is a devastating moment for both of them, and a perfect example of how traversing through both of their internal monologues was very intriguing as they seem to think they know each other so well, but really they’re in the dark about each other’s feelings for most of the book. The absence of quotation admittedly did throw me off at first but when reading I didn’t even notice it and instead I could appreciate its absence which signifies the lack of communication in the novel and blurs the lines between what is said and what is left unspoken.
Rooney’s writing focuses a lot on the simple everyday moments of life - she zooms in on making a cup of tea or the act of pouring a glass of wine which seemed very fitting for a novel based on the lives of normal people and I found was a pleasure to read. When I finished reading, I really appreciated the clever first line of the novel, ‘Marianne answers the door when Connell rings the bell’ as it completely encompasses their relationship. Connell seems to have this consuming hold over Marianne and the worst part is they are both aware of this. It seems to hang over their relationship like a bell jar, trapping them in this strange dynamic, and Marianne in another state of servitude. Though this sounds morbid, the ending of the novel nods to the first line in a beautifully developed way. Our two characters are both still in love with each other and happy together but they ultimately choose themselves and their own futures over the relationship. Marianne tells Connell to go to New York and that she’ll ‘always be here’; though she may always answer the door if Connell rings, Marianne no longer feels as though she has to – instead she has chosen to stay. Marianne has gained agency and respect for herself by the end of the novel whilst Connell finds confidence in his writing and future. This separation that they choose for themselves signifies their self-growth, and surprisingly, I quite liked the open-ended conclusion showing how life is full of uncertainties and possibilities.
Sally Rooney has written an intense novel about love filled with the complexities and harshness of real life that make us so utterly, despairingly normal.
Edited by Dan Ramos Lay, Literature Editor
