‘Normal People’ as an enduring portrayal of doing good for one another

Note: This is a discussion piece, not a review. It has loads of spoilers. It openly discusses some of the biggest events in the book or series, so read at your own risk.

How do I even start talking about this?

Maybe the novel is a good starting point.

It was published in 2018, but I’ve only heard about it last year and decided to read it. Normal People is one of the few books that I personally found difficult to put down unless I finish it. I wasn’t so much thinking about its literary merit and all that (which would probably make my past editors in a literary folio disappointed), but just the way its two central characters, Marianne and Connell, completely sucked me in. Theirs was a turbulent love affair that started in their last years in high school throughout their early adult lives in university.

When I say turbulent, it involved a lot of emotional pains—both individually and together for the two of them. They were not the easiest pair because they often find it difficult to articulate what they truly feel. This particular individual flaw caused a lot of serious misunderstandings for them, but it’s not fair to solely pin the blame on it. A lot of it has to do with insecurities and class differences.

In particular, one of my favourite chapters in the book was when Connell was mugged in an alley and had to call Marianne to borrow money to get home. This barrier between them has always been there but they try not to deal with it head-on, and in this fateful night they would learn that it actually does factor in no matter how they try to avoid it.

This love story is not what most people would consider ‘one for the books,’ or ‘healthy’ for that matter. It had certain aspects to it that won’t sit well to most people. Even I have a hard time completely reconciling with all of it. But for me, love is a subject that I have always been interested in throughout college and I am always interested in trying to understand the dynamics it builds among certain people and especially in a ‘controlled’ setting as literary fiction.

So here I am—extremely curious about how all of it will translate to screen. After all, completely capturing the geist of a novel, most especially the essence of the characters, is often the make-or-break for any adaption.

And, I am happy to report that BBC Three’s adaptation of Sally Rooney’s Normal People is a success. Perhaps, seeing it play out on my screen feels like going through the same experience I’ve had with the novel and with so much more.

I think that a lot of the success of the adaptation comes from a tightly written script which also involved Rooney herself, as well as the painstaking care and attention to detail that went to its production. One thing that I really liked about the whole process is reading up that both Lenny Abrahamson and Hettie Macdonald made sure that they had an equal-gender crew. It was also good to know that they hired an intimacy coach to really capture the sensitivity needed in portraying the sex scenes from the book to TV. You see, the sexual relationship of Connell and Marianne was one of the defining parts of Normal People because it was their way of being naked in front of each other—in its most literal and emotional sense.

Still, I don’t suppose this would have been as good as it was if not for the luck they had in finding the perfect match in Daisy Edgar-Jones and Paul Mescal as Marianne and Connell, respectively. They bring in so much vulnerability and honesty on-screen to perfectly capture whatever feeling of loneliness, anxiety, and alienation they were going through. It helps that they simply have that natural chemistry that makes even the quiet scenes feel palpable. They would just briefly look at each other or seat next to each other, and it’s not difficult to place just exactly what you’re supposed to feel for them. It is such a joy having two actors, especially for a story like this, to have this level of comfort and understanding between them.

Going back, watching those 12 episodes was surreal, to say the least. I echo most of the people who have seen it in saying that it felt like experiencing what they are going through as well. Somehow, each episode just has this ability to completely envelope you until the ending credits roll in and you belatedly realized you were momentarily transported there.

First and foremost, it communicates that feeling of not really knowing what you want to do with your life. It happens to all sorts of people, no matter their circumstance. Some of us just floats through each day without questioning why we even get out of bed in the first place. Do we solely exist for the purpose of finding our place in the world or we so used to what we think other people perceive us as, that we get completely lost on that identity? It was what Connell struggled through his high school life. He thinks that dating the social outcast would somehow make him lose his friends or status, only to find out that it did not matter at all. In the end, he lost what could have been the only person who makes him happy and feel true to himself. Then again, who does not make stupid decisions when we’re young?

As adults reading the book or watching the series, it’s easy for us to decide the correct choice a character should have chosen because we are not in the situation. But also you understand that it’s not exactly something you’re sure you would have done if you are in the same exact place. We become wiser people through retrospection—when we look back at something, we now have experiences and lessons learned that would help us finally make the right decisions. Until then, we’re all just as clueless as the next person.

In Episode 5, when both Connell and Marianne are finally friends again and hanging out together, they finally got to sit down and talk about the past. Of course, as usual, it took them a while to get there because they are Connell and Marianne, but it was one of the few moments when they actually manage to say exactly what they want to say. Marianne needed to ask if he even ever considered asking her to the Debs and had to face the fact that he did not. Connell needed to finally apologize to her for treating her badly back in school and for getting ahead of himself because of his insecurities and admittedly overall stupidity (heh). I thought that was wonderfully filmed with both of them just seated there, completely vulnerable.

I’ve mentioned earlier about how one of my favourite chapters from the book was when Connell was mugged and had to ask Marianne for help. The money and class difference issue was a running theme in the book. However, I think this was more openly discussed in the series. For instance, that one little conversation that they had in a piazza in Italy about how in the end, money is the substance that makes the world go round.  Even the entire dinner scene with Marianne’s rich boyfriend at the time, he uses the class dynamics to insult Connell as well as his friend Niall. Throughout the series, there is always this undertone of him not deserving Marianne because he’s of a lower social class.

I’d like to believe that this is something already lost from our present situation. But honestly it’s not? I truly think that the more a relationship goes serious, the more these things surface. It will always be there no matter what, but it’s the approach and attitude towards it that would make the difference, I suppose? For the longest time, Connell let it get in the way. He allowed it to build such a tall barrier that he could not get over it.

Moving on to the more emotional component of this relationship. To be honest, it is really depressing. Marianne is a character that went through serious emotional trauma and abuse from her family, most especially her brother. She has this feeling of being un-loved, her brother literally telling her that no one would care if she completely disappeared from the world. She felt that she had to do whatever would make Connell happy even at her own expense. Even in her other relationships, she completely submits herself but of course these men don’t even notice that.

This bit feels like a commentary on Rooney’s part about the way that men in general want submissive women. This idea of being in control about their every movement, and any choice they make, or who they talk to and make friends with. This is what makes Marianne’s relationship with Connell a lot different, aside from the obvious attraction and the intellectual bits of it all . He knows that she would do anything for him, but he has consistently tried to help her understand that relationships should not be that way.  So much of this plays during moments of intimacy between the two of them, which is why it was integral that the series was able to portray it well.

Dependency is a central theme in the novel. A little bit in the last chapter makes a good case for it:

No one can be independent of other people completely, so why not give up the attempt, she though, go running in the other direction, depend on other people for everything, allow them to depend on you, why not. She knows he loves her, she doesn’t wonder about that anymore.

Marianne and Connell’s journey had been about them depending on each other, but not exactly in the way that most of us would normally think of it. Dependency has started to feel like a negative thing throughout the years. But with these two, it means opening up, letting the other person hold you hand and guide you through it all.

Connell’s depression took its height when Rob died. It was the trigger that set off a lot of the pent-up emotions that he has been feeling since he started college. It all felt different and it was not the escape he was hoping he could find. Even if he goes back to his hometown, it does not feel the right place to be anymore. In reconciling his feelings about it, Marianne was there even as she is away at Sweden for an Erasmus program. She would keep her Skype on to be with Connell to help him fall asleep. It was that seemingly simple gesture that got him through it all.

Marianne’s growing distance from her family got worse after her time in Sweden. Her brother was nastier especially about her relationship with Connell. She does not really belong to that house, and when it escalated to a point of no return, she finds herself with him and his family. He would always assure her the he loves her and that many people loves her; how even if some people treats her badly—including him, sometimes—she should not allow everyone else to do the same.

I love the idea of them not making it into something grand as ‘saving’ each other even if that is exactly what they did. Instead, it was simply an act of love for someone you truly care about. So, even if the road towards it all might not be the ‘healthiest,’ it does not mean that the place they arrive at is any less meaningful. If anything, I think that this complexity is what made following this love story so compelling.

But we have done so much good for one another.

The ending of the series hurt a different kind of way. It felt so real and heart-wrenching, that I honestly felt that ache in my chest. It was that line—about how they’ve done so much good for each other that they are able to arrive at a better place than they were before. There is the acknowledgment that nothing is guaranteed so there is no point in clinging to promises and just let time lead them for now. There was that really beautiful goodbye, heartbreaking and hopeful, and sad and uplifting. And the series ends as one of the bests this year, and of all time in my books.