Connell and Marianne are emotionally complex, sure, but they also spend a ridiculous amount of time misunderstanding each other in ways that make you want to throw the book across the room. Connell is a self-sabotaging mess with the communication skills of a damp sponge, and Marianne swings between being refreshingly self-possessed and utterly self-destructive. They’re both compelling, but good grief, their inability to say what they actually feel gets exhausting. The secondary characters are mostly set dressing—Alan is a cartoonishly awful villain, and Rachel exists solely to be an insecure mean girl.

Rooney’s idea of setting is less about describing places and more about describing the emotional weight of them. Carricklea feels stifling, but Dublin should have been more vibrant—it’s supposed to represent growth and change, yet it feels just as dreary. The characters talk about their surroundings as if they barely register them, which makes sense given their constant existential crises. At times, I wanted something—a stronger sensory moment, a more vivid description—to ground me, but nope. Everything remains aesthetically minimal, which is very on-brand for Rooney, but also kind of dull.

Rooney’s prose is clean, sharp, and deliberately devoid of flourish. She doesn’t bother with quotation marks, because apparently, that’s a construct she’s above. Her dialogue is good—probably the strongest part of her writing—but sometimes the starkness borders on clinical. It’s very much the “let’s say a lot while actually saying very little” style, which works great for tension but can also feel infuriatingly detached. The writing is smart, I’ll give her that, but occasionally it feels like it’s holding the reader at arm’s length, as if raw emotion is something to be acknowledged but never fully indulged in.

Plot? What plot? Normal People is 300+ pages of two people failing to communicate, making the same mistakes, and torturing themselves over it. It’s a cycle: get close, push each other away, suffer silently, repeat. By the time the book reaches its climax (if you can even call it that), I wanted to shake both characters and scream, “Just say what you mean, for the love of God!” The pacing is inconsistent—sometimes beautifully introspective, sometimes painfully sluggish. If you’re looking for a book where things happen, this isn’t it. If you enjoy watching two intelligent people self-sabotage for years, step right up.

Despite the fact that it’s repetitive, Normal People does have that soap-opera pull—you want to know what happens next, even as you brace yourself for another round of Connell brooding in a corner and Marianne making dubious life choices. Their dynamic is messy and frustrating, but it’s real, and there’s something compelling about watching two people who are clearly meant to be together absolutely butcher their chances at happiness. That said, there were moments where I caught myself sighing dramatically and thinking, “Do I really care anymore?”

Marianne and Connell’s relationship is the definition of it’s complicated, and not always in a way that makes sense. Connell’s social anxiety and fear of being perceived are relatable but also infuriating—his constant self-doubt and inability to just tell people what he wants gets old. Meanwhile, Marianne has some serious self-worth issues that lead her into a series of relationships that are more red flags than actual human beings. Their attraction to each other is undeniable, but the way they navigate it is a constant exercise in unnecessary suffering. Also, the whole “Connell can’t be seen dating Marianne because of social status” thing feels a bit high school drama, considering we’re meant to take it as serious emotional trauma.

Did I appreciate this book? Yes. Did I enjoy it? That’s a different question. There are moments of gut-wrenching emotional truth, and Rooney is a master at capturing the nuances of relationships. But the sheer amount of frustration I felt while reading—watching these two fumble their way through life in a constant state of avoidable miscommunication—made it a less enjoyable experience than it could have been. It’s a book that makes you feel things, but half the time, those feelings are just pure exasperation. Would I recommend it? Sure, but only to people who enjoy being emotionally wrung out and yelled at by their own thoughts.

Normal People is an exercise in watching two people who clearly love each other make every possible wrong choice before circling back to where they started. It’s frustrating, beautifully written, and emotionally exhausting. If you like introspective, character-driven fiction with a heavy dose of will-they-won’t-they-but-mostly-won’t, this is for you. If you prefer books where characters actually grow and learn from their mistakes, you might want to look elsewhere.