Normal People
2018 • 273 pages

Ratings1,021

Average rating3.6

15

I like to go into books blind. I don't want to know about the plot, I don't want to know the Goodreads rating, I don't want to read others' reviews until I'm done writing my own. All of these things help me feel like I'm forming my opinion in enough of a vacuum that I'm reasonably sure my thoughts are my own. This is why I picked up Normal People thinking I was in for a Little Fires Everywhere or Such a Fun Age type read. Three hours later I'm listening to the worst BDSM sex scenes imaginable on my commute to work. A wild twist, to be sure. If you are one of my coworkers, read on at your own risk.

Normal People is about how people end up tangled in each others' lives. The strange evolution of relationships that begin in hometowns. Some relationships stay the same, no matter how much time it's been. Others feel different to any other bond, no matter how much time it's been.

How family dynamics carry over into romantic and sexual ties (no pun intended, and I hate myself for leaving this in). How other people and our relationships with them can so drastically impact our sense of self, and, ultimately, whether we feel worthy, loved, understood. Whether we even know who we are. Whether we even like who we are.

Also, Normal People includes a whole slew of fictional men who I would love to physically attack. In fact, pretty much all of them are deserving of my wrath. They are a despicable lot and Marianne should try dating women. Or dating no one. Anything is better than this.

The main issue I have is hard to articulate. Some of the underlying messages about the roots of Marianne's desires felt reductive, or maybe even harmful. I don't feel qualified enough to speak definitively on this; it just felt a little off to me. Like, oh, of course she wants Connell to hurt her. The men she grew up with hurt her. Feels a little convenient. Feels a little Freudian.Are we supposed to believe that Marianne wants to be submissive because of her past? Or that it's something that exists separately, that just happened to be muddied by some men with controlling, violent tendencies? Or is the message that only some men are qualified to dominate women, if they're responsible and sensitive and take seriously the weight of the power they hold?I feel like this is a key point with potentially high, real-life stakes and ripple effects. I get leaving fiction open to interpretation, but also, if you're going to talk about these issues, how careful do you have to be about weaving in takeaway messages? How much do you have to help readers parse out what is and is not healthy? Idk y'all.

My broken pop culture brain wants to compare this to Sammi and Ron on Jersey Shore plus the familial abuse in Tara Westover's Educated. Pick this up if you want to have a weird start to your year.

January 5, 2022