Two days after my last post, I finished the book. I finished it actually yesterday, two days after I've started reading it.
I miss the book. I miss the characters. I send one of my friends a message, saying I would like to be friends with Marianne.
Initially, I bought the book to know the story before I watch the series. I wasn't expecting it to get so close to me. To put me in that weird state. But let me tell you from the start.
Yesterday I woke up and I grabbed the book, went into the living room, sat in the big, red chair near the window, curled myself up and started reading. I read and read, turned page after page. Until there was no page left to be turned around. I reached the end. About three hours have passed where I just had been sitting there and read. When I now think back, I am so grateful for this book. It made me just sit there, getting fully captured in the story and forget the time, the phone, the person around me. It was just me and the pages.
The story of Connell and Marianne was so gripping, sensual. It was not just a story about sex, it was so much deeper. The connection between those two individuals from different backgrounds, him living with his mother, not knowing who is father is and her, coming from a domestic violence household. Both learning what growing up means. Finding each other, losing each other because of things they did or said to each other - or not said.
At one point of the book, I imagined a tragic end like Romeo and Juliet or at least one of the two dying from love. Spoiler alert: no death. But with an open ending, that could have continued if Sally Rooney wanted to. But she ended it in the right place. Though it's very open and gives space for loads of thoughts.
When I put the book away, I couldn't just continue with the rest of the day. That's what put me in a weird place. It's one of those books that needs to be discussed with others and if that would have been a book to be read during school, I would have discussed it deeply and found joy in it. Thinking back of school when we had to read books and interpret them, I found it ridiculous, but with Normal People, I was doing it subconsciously whilst reading it. Watching another episode of the series I know that my co-worker has not understood the same subline of the story like those who've read the book. There is so much more in the written story than in the film adaption, though the BBC did a very good job.
So I didn't do much more yesterday anymore, even though it was only 2pm in the afternoon when I had finished the book. I knew it will take me a while to find another book like that again. Which is disturbing. How can I story fascinate one so deeply, whilst another book is just one that's been read and hardly stays in your memory? Finishing Normal People felt like waking up and be transferred back to life, leaving Dublin.
You see, I am all over it. Five stars and more. The book put me in such a special bubble on Friday afternoon, that I am craving for it and even think to read it again - right now. On Friday I made myself a coffee, grabbed the book and went outside to sit on a bench in the sun and started reading. I declared those few hours for the best moment since lockdown. It's sunny again today - but I can't go outside because I have no such book to read now. Instead, I keep thinking about it. And about everything else that's possible to be thought about.
So, buy it. Read it. Read it slowly. Enjoy it. And share your feelings, thoughts and impressions with me. I am ready to discuss.
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