"Normal People" by Sally Rooney

I'm happy to engage in "did the book or the movie do it better" talk (of course, as a literature aficionado, my alliances typically lay with the book), but that question gets muddled--for me--in the case of Normal People. I began watching the new Hulu miniseries first, then started reading the book, and then read/watched more or less simultaneously, curtailing my reading as necessary to ensure I didn't get ahead of my spot in the miniseries. For that reason, I view the book and miniseries as intertwined, two complementary parts of a whole, rather than separate entities. This point of view is made easier to accomplish because the novel's author, Sally Rooney, wrote a textually-faithful adaptation, at times taking entire conversations word-for-word from the book.

This long introduction is all to say that this is a review of the book and miniseries.

On paper, the story isn't my typical fare. Marianne and Connell attend high school together. She's wealthy but "weird" and unpopular; he's poor (his mother is a housekeeper for Marianne's family) but easy-going and popular. Nonetheless, they're drawn to each other and begin a secret affair. The book then follows them as they come together--and move apart--over the next several years. It could be a cliche Nicholas Sparks' novel, or a melodramatic young adult book.

Somehow it's neither, and even though nearly the entire story is about Marianne and Connell's relationship (other characters come and go, but all remain bit players), I'm not even sure it's a romance. Instead, it's perhaps about the kind of friendship that allows you to grow as a person by allowing you to be yourself. A friendship that validates the part of you you hide from others.

One of the elements I most enjoyed about the novel was its portrayal of the contradiction in one's outer persona and inner life. Marianne presents as cold and uncaring, but inside she's deeply shattered by her family's neglect and outright abuse; she seeks pain from others as a way of recreating her inner feelings of self-loathing. Connell presents as "chill" and "one of the guys," but he struggles with feeling like an impostor, of seeing no place for him in the world. Though Marianne and Connell hurt each other as they struggle to maintain that outer persona, they also allow each other to go beyond a neat box.

The most disquieting element of the book and miniseries is Marianne's descent into unhealthy BDSM, arousing out of a desire for submission. She ends up in a series of relationships that abuse that desire and leave her feeling even more empty. Her desire for submission is complicated, as clearly it arises from her abusive family, yet it feels simplistic--and unfair--to suggest she "shouldn't" want it. Though not easy to understand, with a healthy partner (ultimately Connell) she can achieve that feeling in a loving and supportive relationship.

Rooney frames the book's dialogue without quotation marks, a modern style that effectively emphasizes the intimacy of Connell and Marianne's relationship. The miniseries can't play with punctuation, so in its one significant departure from the novel, it includes several explicit sex scenes. In other stories it could be prurient, but the emphasis is on the intimacy, on the way sex allows two reserved and uneasy people to feel free and understood. The blunt nudity doesn't feel gratuitous, but rather reflects the joy of reciprocated vulnerability.

There were a few missteps for me. Connell's brilliance in school and writing is somewhat overplayed. Marianne's family is so needlessly and unceasingly cruel that they feel like cartoon villains rather than real people. There are some conversations that are meant to make Connell and Marianne sound sophisticated (like one complaining about the emptiness of Facebook posts after a friend's death) that instead feel worn.

Nonetheless, it's a captivating book and an engrossing miniseries. The book stands alone, but by itself you don't get the lilting Irish accents and the gorgeous Irish countryside (or, yes, okay, the sex. Or Connell in a school uniform). It's worth it to consume both.