Sally Rooney may have only published two novels so far, but reading the young Irish author has already become a status symbol among today’s generation. Hailed as the first great millennial author, Rooney deftly captures the zeitgeist of our contemporary world through her lucid prose and spellbinding narratives. In both her novels, Rooney employs a handsomely straightforward style — unburdened with flashy metaphorical language — to explore the complicated romantic entanglements of equally complex characters. Yet her narratives have a deeper resonance and challenge the reader at an intellectual level to grapple with the realities of existence in the present age.
Published in 2018 and subsequently adapted into a successful television series, “Normal People” is Rooney’s second and most recent novel. Longlisted for the Booker Prize, the novel chronicles the complicated relationship of Marianne and Connell as they leave behind their homes in small-town Sligo to attend the prestigious Trinity College in Dublin. Connell, though poor, is athletic and popular in school, while Marianne is aloof and shunned by her peers. They form an unlikely — and furtive — relationship which dissolves tragically towards the end of school. They meet again in Dublin where they both attend the same college — except, now, Marianne, with her brilliance and wealthy background, blossoms into a social butterfly while Connell, beset by his underprivileged upbringing, struggles to fit in. Their sexual chemistry, however, is reinvigorated at Trinity — but it doesn’t take long for things to fall apart again.
Tracing the extraordinary journeys of two young students who discover themselves as they navigate love, relationships and college, “Normal People” may initially resemble a standard coming-of-age tale. The novel, however, embraces heavier contemporary themes like toxic masculinity, anxieties about capitalism, political correctness, mental health crisis, as well as class and gender politics. Rooney’s greatest strength in the novel comes from her ability to masterfully weave such serious themes into her narrative without distracting her readers from the natural flow of the story.
Rooney’s characters are deeply flawed but profoundly human, often reminding us of our own fallibilities. Connell’s awkwardness, timidity, and teenage obsession with his peers’ approval are presented in stark opposition to Marianne’s smug self-assurance and lack of regard for her classmates. Connell is full of self-doubt and seems perpetually confused about what he should do — at one point he is troubled by a sense that he is in fact “two separate people.” Even though he likes Marianne, he keeps his relationship with her a secret for the fear of being judged by his classmates. And despite treating Marianne in a humiliating fashion, blinded by his toxic masculinity, he does not muster enough courage or sense to apologize, which he later regrets.
Rooney, however, does not shy away from condemning these flaws, which she often does in a blunt and unapologetic fashion in the novel. When Connell ditches Marianne and instead invites another girl to the school formal, his mother Lorraine rebukes him harshly. Lorraine’s indignance at her son’s actions is manifest: she calls him “a disgrace” and admits to being “ashamed” of him. Rooney does not mince words, and her matter-of-fact approach makes conversations in the novel sharp and forceful.
One of the most riveting developments in the novel is the dramatic reversals of fortune that befall the two central characters: in school, Connell is considered handsome and popular while Marianne is shunned by her classmates as ugly and antisocial; in Dublin, however, Marianne, with her upper-class upbringing and intelligence, gets more attention than Connell, who feels out of place among the privileged students at Trinity.
Rooney, an avowed Marxist, presents a strong critique of our class-based society through Connell’s experience. During his early days at Trinity, Connell feels “a sense of crushing inferiority” to his classmates who can “express their opinions passionately and conduct impromptu debates.” The privileged kids from Dublin think and act differently from Connell, which leads him to accept that he will probably never understand them.
Coming to Dublin exposes Connell to the reality of his situation and imbues him with a class consciousness he did not have back in Sligo. Despite being a diligent student, Connell struggles to fit into the crowd of mostly entitled and privileged students at his college. At the first party he attends in Dublin, Connell is anxious that “everyone around him is disturbed by his presence.” He is forced to reckon with the fact that his clothes are “cheap and unfashionable” and wonders “if he had upgraded himself accidentally to an intellectual level far above his own.”
Readers are given access to Connell’s intimate thoughts through which they can empathize with him and understand the psychological toll of class divide in our society. This is one of Rooney’s greatest strengths — by frequently diverging from the mantra of “show, don’t tell,” she presents readers with the opportunity to explore the inner worlds of her characters and better understand their concerns and insecurities. Exposure to Connell’s unfiltered thoughts help readers understand his inner turmoil and develop sympathy for a character who is a victim of the class hierarchy that continues to define our society.
Despite the novel’s brevity, Rooney manages to weigh in on several big questions of our contemporary age. When Connell finds out that Marianne’s boyfriend from college was responsible for inviting a Neo-Nazi to speak in the name of free speech, he playfully chides her: “Your boyfriend is a Holocaust denier.” By setting this scene at a party, Rooney ensures that the conversation remains light-hearted, but at the same time she ensures that the issue is recognized as important, especially at a time where debates around political correctness and limits of free speech have never been more pronounced. Rooney’s knack for invoking heavier themes in her novel without letting them consume the entire narrative is impressive and helps keep readers interested.
At an earlier point in the novel, when Connell and Marianne visit an abandoned house, Connell wonders why the house could not just be sold, to which Marianne replies: “It’s something to do with capitalism.” Connell then reinforces this: “Yeah. Everything is, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Rooney however does not use this as a launchpad to spark a passionate debate about the ills of capitalism; rather, the characters just get on with their lives.
Rooney carefully draws her readers’ attention to the problem of modern capitalism, but instead of dwelling on it, she trusts her readers to have their own debates outside of the novel. Throughout her novel, Rooney manages to successfully highlight the many problems that ail our society without feeling compelled to resolve them for the readers. This helps her keep her readers engrossed in the narrative and at the same time imbue them with a sense of agency to assess these problems on their own.
“Normal People” is a novel of our times. Rooney captures the modern reader’s imagination through simple form and unpretentious language while managing to touch on pressing issues of today’s world through her narrative. Readers are invited to inhabit the psyches of the characters, and not only experience their anxieties and insecurities but also confront topical themes through their lives. Rooney’s novel is a beautiful story that captures our heart with its brilliant portrayal of young love whilst simultaneously inspiring us to meditate on the bigger questions of life.
Image Credit: “Normal People or The Outsider” by John K. Thorne is licensed under CC0 1.0.
