Tag Archives: Suicide

Normal People by Sally Rooney (Review by Varsha R. ’21)

Normal PeopleNormal People by Sally Rooney
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

TW for Normal People: Sexual assault and suicide

The first thing I noticed when I started Sally Rooney’s Normal People was that she does not use quotation marks in dialogue. What was initially jarring became understandable to me over the course of the novel. At the heart of Rooney’s writing is an innate desire to fully immerse the reader into the narrative; in real life, we don’t talk or perceive language with quotation marks, and her aversion towards such conventional punctuation made me feel as though I myself was a side character in the book, watching the story unfold with an outside, yet involved, perspective.

Rooney’s sentences are short, blunt, and zany. At first glance, her words leave almost no room for interpretation, but she also manages to craft an intense, emotionally draining and, at times, frustrating love story that leaves an impact. It’s perhaps for this reason that people either seem to adore Rooney’s writing or despise it. It takes a while to get used to, especially after reading the more standard works of basically any other established author.

Normal People takes a classic, time-and-time-again-told story of misunderstanding amid romance while weaving key threads of social class, mental turmoil, and simultaneous self-discovery and self-depression. It’s impossible not to sympathize with the lead characters, Marianne and Connell, as they make their individual footprints in their legacies while constantly surrounded by the other’s memory and presence.

They start a clandestine relationship with one another in their senior year of high school with the cliche trope of a popular soccer player and a quiet, misunderstood ugly duckling. What separates Normal People from any other coming-of-age romantic comedy is an unmistakable backdrop of social inequality, emotional uncertainty, and poignant thoughts of philosophy and self-questioning, which are furthered by a strong use of the third person.

Rooney has an irksome talent to keep the magnetically attached Marianne and Connell in her books apart at the most inopportune moments, a trope that gets exasperating after the first couple times. But as she puts it, “All these year they’ve been like two little plants sharing the same plot of soil, growing around one another, contorting to make room, taking certain unlikely positions.”

And of course, a key hallmark of Rooney’s books is a disappointing ending that almost came off as a final “screw you” to the reader after having been swept up in Marianne and Connell’s intertwining tale for so long. But it was impossible for me to stay annoyed for long after having reflected on the profound impact that this book had on me, my perception of myself, and my understanding of how I’m perceived in the world around me. —Review by Varsha R. ’21

For those who enjoyed Normal People, Varsha also suggests Conversations with Friends by Sally Rooney and The Outline Trilogy: Outline, Transit and Kudos by Rachel Cusk.

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Sala by Toni Morrison (review by Andrew R. ’17)

SulaSula by Toni Morrison
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I chose Sula as my first introduction to Toni Morrison’s work because it was slimmer, lighter, and—apparently—easier to understand than her more famous and acclaimed novels, but now that I’ve finished the last chapter I find myself wondering if this book is really representative of Morrison’s greater oeuvre. The plot sounds deceptively peaceful: young black Sula leaves her small hometown behind as she heads off to be educated, and upon her return ten years later (a significant gap in the novel’s chronology), she’s estranged and distrusted by her former friends. You can’t call Sula “peaceful,” though, because Morrison fills its pages with wanton, almost casual violence and death. A mother soaks her son’s mattress in gasoline and sets it alight; a woman burns to death trying to light a yard fire; a little boy slips from his friends’ fingers and falls into the lake, never resurfaces. Hard as I try, I can’t reconcile these near-constant, near-faceless deaths with the practices of “good novel-writing” that I’m used to, and so for the moment Sula seems more off-putting and grim than I’d wish. Maybe someday, when I’m more familiar with the rest of Morrison’s novels, I’ll be able to return to Sula and appreciate, or at least understand, its pervading sense of randomness and cruelty.

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The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes (review by Lauren L. ’17)

The Sense of an EndingThe Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The Sense of an Ending is a remarkable story spanning forty years stemming from the protagonist’s acquaintance with a man he had known for less than a decade before the man unexpectedly commits suicide. It is blunt in its telling, the protagonist exposing his own ignorance throughout life as well as the many inadvisable decisions he had made and interspersing among them happier memories. It is refreshing to see his joys and regrets, all reluctantly accepted, and they reveal what he truly values in his life. The ending is unexpected and somewhat confusing; however, when the full implications of what had happened are understood, the shock value is enough for the book, and the questions it provokes, to linger in the reader’s mind for days afterward. Though it may not be enjoyable for all, I firmly believe that everyone should at least read the first few pages before deciding definitively whether or not The Sense of an Ending is to their taste. – Lauren L. ’17

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Wintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson (review by Elizabeth S. ’16)

WintergirlsWintergirls by Laurie Halse Anderson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Though intimidating because of its subject matter, Wintergirls yields a reward high enough at the end to make reading it well worthwhile. Anderson’s writing is always visceral and heartbreaking, but the harsh reality of eating disorders makes it even more gritty. When I was not transfixed by the story, I was admiring Anderson’s writing style and the perfect way that she captures the first person speaker, Lia. Lia’s best friend Cassie was recently found dead in a motel room of an overdose. The book details their past together, including Cassie’s bulimia (which eventually led to her downfalll), Lia’s anorexia, and the pact they made together when they were younger. Lia’s anorexia resurfaces, for the guilt that Lia feels about Cassie serves as a trigger. The author’s voice is strong in this book, with truly believable characters and a singular writing style. I recommend this book to any reader looking to really feel for a character and who isn’t at risk of being triggered by the subject matter. – Elizabeth S. ’16

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The Brief and Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Diaz (review by Ravi B. ’14)

The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar WaoThe Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao by Junot Díaz
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Oscar, an overweight, geeky, Dominican teenager, is on the quest for love. Unfortunately, his family is love cursed. Dark and tragic events in the family’s history set the stage for Oscar’s fortitude in the name of love. Although Diaz’s ordering of the story can sometimes confuse the reader, I found the progression of the main storyline nurtured by each of the side stories. The language is rough, especially if you know Spanish, and if you want the full-experience of the book I would recommend reading it with a Spanish-English dictionary. Despite the various plot lines all ending the same, the personality and experience of each character varies and engages. If you enjoy comic books and/or geek culture, this book will be particularly enjoyable, but this book could be appreciated by anyone. Note: If you read this book, I highly recommend reading every lengthy and playful footnote, in which Diaz addresses and informs his readers about Dominican history and interesting anecdotes. – Ravi B. ‘14

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