One thing that makes a book bad is not making the reader care about the characters. I had the opposite problem with Normal People. I cared too much. I literally felt as though this book lifted my heart out of its protective cage, turned it into crystal, and threatened to shatter it at any moment. So many times I caught my breath suspended in the air, my mind hanging onto words that made me forget to exhale.
I felt a longing for the characters as though I was one of them. I felt their needs, their isolation, their heartstrings stretching to capacity and I could hardly take it. At times, I wanted the book to end so I could get myself back to normal, to morph my heart back to its natural state, safely beating at a regular rate within my chest. On the other hand, I didn't want it to end. I wanted it to be endless, this perfect interplay of tension, of giving you everything you want and then ripping it away. It's the perfect formula, yet this book felt unique and anything but formulaic. To be able to immerse yourself in fiction, to be utterly swept up in two people who make you forget all about the real world and anything but what you're reading, is the best kind of way to spend some time.
I am left in awe by Sally Rooney herself, this woman I have never met, whose books I've never read until now, yet I feel like she has such an intimate knowledge of empathy and turmoil and anxiety, of the human condition, of how it feels when you don't feel as though you fit neatly into the world. I can't wait to read more of what she's written. She really has a deep understanding of humanity, a natural conversational tone, and a way of not tying things up neatly. I want to tell you about the plot, to drop crumbs about these people she writes about, especially about Connor and Marianne, but I would ruin the plot, so I just hope you love them as much as I do.
Judge the cover: 5/5 (Perfect cover, perfect book)
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