I Don't Understand "Normal People"

At the apex of their University studies in Normal People Marianne and Connell approach a semblance of adult stability and visit Marianne's family villa in Italy. They sit and eat ice cream, and Connell reflects on his family's lack of means, and points out that "money makes the world real" - and Marianne admits she doesn't think about money. An ignorant thing, she says, but a true thing.

The story of Normal People, adapted from Rooney's novel, provides a mosaic of Marianne and Connell dealing with their love for each other while trying to find their places in the world. The naturalistic dialogue buttresses the central division between these two people: class. Marianne is the youngest daughter of a successful lawyer from an old moneyed family, while Connell is the son of a single mother who occasionally cleans Marianne's huge house. One family dominant in society, the other scratching at the edges.

At school the opposite is true. Connell is athletic and popular, but he doesn't quite connect with his peers. Conversely Marianne is a dedicated, intelligent loner, constantly in detention and the butt of every joke. At university the opposite is true again: Marianne is popular, while Connell struggles to connect with anyone beyond his roommate. These positions continue to vacillate as the two travel for work and studies, staying connected to each other via email and via video call.

In the last months of a deteriorating relationship an ex of mine suggested that I reminded her of Marianne. Not until writing this now does it occur to me this might be why I picked up the show at all. Strange what hides itself out of view, isn't it?

Marianne is presented, at least initially, as a viciously intellectual superior snob. This attitude is responded to through the misogyny of her classmates. She's ugly. Flat chested, and so on. My experience of bullying was vectored through similar misogyny, though specifically homophobic slurs and the ever-available fat jokes. The sensation that you are somehow other is identified by these other children, and that you act as an other, refusing to bend, is rejected with the closest, easiest tools available. On that front Marianne and I responded the same way: to descend further into academic work. To continue developing the mind and the craft.

Perhaps where I feel the comparison most keen is Marianne's intellectual superiority. It is one thing to be smart, it is another to be completely aware of just how smart you are compared to everyone around you. And sure, it can be difficult not to be constantly reminded of that: reminded to keep a huge portion of yourself in-check and unavailable to avoid putting off other people, or worse, embarassing them. Which is, of itself, condescending. Like Marianne I gave up this masking effort at University and embraced my polarizing nature: people love or hate me, and that is an elemental fact of the universe for Marianne as well.

But unlike Marianne (at least initially) I think about money second only to storytelling: which is to say, all the god damn time. Looking back we didn't grow up as poor as we felt. Certainly early on being raised by a single mother money was very tight, but somehow we thrived. Some very good investments, some unfortunate consequences of 2009, but always some sense of stability. I got a job as soon as I could. Made shit money sweating in kitchen. Made shit money doing data entry. I remember with arresting clarity the first time I'd saved a thousand dollars. A thousand dollars. That felt like an impossible sum: a monumental accrual of wealth that insulated me, at least for a while, from certain consequence and appeared to produce new possibilities otherwise unfathomable before.

And look it has been a radicalising decade to live through. I still think about money all the time, but I've invested the last five years in understanding how labour functions, and how the capitalist uses the means of production to control the worker and exploit their value. Which means all I do now is think about money, just very differently.

All to say that while I empathise and understand Marianne, I find the comparison slightly disquieting in a way that I'm clearly struggling to articulate. I'm certain a part of that feeling is the sense that the comparison is accurate. It feels like Rooney based her character on someone she grew up with. Someone wickedly smart, unpersonable, direct and aloof. In this way Marianne always feels like she's speaking to you from one room over, never quite present and available to you. Except on the very rare occasion she is in the same room as you, speaking to you directly. This attention, this focused beam of someone brilliant deeming you worthy, can be overwhelming to both receive and to provide. And aye, that's the rub. For all the work I've done on myself, there's the old familiar defense, isn't it? That instinct to pull back, just a little. Looking someone in the eye and feeling the twitch to hide, just a little, just in case, even though they genuinely want to know how you are, genuinely want to know more.

What I don't yet understand is how Marianne is able to be so present and vulnerable with Connell. By the end of the story they have built the foundation of a relationship forged through conflict and struggle. This mutual agreement to journey through life for this moment together with compassion and presence. Both in the same room together. And like the thousand dollars, right now that feels like an impossible thing to me. So far away that it feels unreal. Which just means there's work to do, doesn't it? Shit work for shit pay. Always the way, but the work needs doing, one cent at a time.