As Halloween approaches, it’s tempting to reach for films and books like The Shining, IT and Conjuring. But for something truly haunting I suggest diving into Sally Rooney’s Normal People, a love story that might just leave you feeling more spooked out. Normal People is the kind of romance where the scariest thing isn’t the masked villian but the uncanny feeling of having your heart dissected, piece by piece.
Sure, Normal People is of course a romance. Connell and Marianne—the central characters—seem like they’re heading for a classic, if slightly bumpy, love story. But don’t expect sweeping, Hollywood-style declarations or passionate scenes scored by dramatic violins or classical music. Instead, Rooney gives us the unnerving realism of two people who can barely even talk to each other without slipping into some quite uncomfortable silences and awkward misunderstandings. Their love is haunted all right, but not by ghosts or evil spirits. It’s haunted by something much scarier: real life.
Connell, a high school athlete turned introspective university student, and Marianne, the loner with a sharp intellect and even sharper tongue begin their whirlwind relationship in secret. This secrecy adds a ghostly element to their bond. They love each other, or at least think they do, but they can’t quite admit it. Connell, with his quiet anxiety, depression and imposter syndrome and Marianne, with her unspoken insecurities and traumatic family life, move through a series of misaligned hopes, blown opportunities, and “if only” moments that will make you want to yell hysterically at them like you’re watching a horror film. As in Horrors “Don’t go in there!” meaning ‘Would the pair of you just communicate already!”
Part of what makes Normal People so haunting is that it’s way too easy to recognise yourself in the characters’ insecurities and fears. It’s a humbling experience to say the least. You might find yourself thinking, “Ah surely, real people aren’t this stuck in their own insecurities.” Although by the time you’ve finished reading or watching you’re struck by how familiar it all feels. The novel skillfully captures the modern anxiety around intimacy, where reaching out is scarier than facing a masked villain, and admitting feelings is the equivalent to skydiving or perhaps jumping off a cliff.
Rooney explores the power dynamics at play in Connell and Marianne’s on-again, off-again relationship. Marianne, who seems so confident, battles with inner demons that manifest in self-destructive behaviours, while Connell, who seems outwardly quote on quote “the cool dude”, wrestles with social anxiety and a fear of inadequacy. Their struggles with identity are like Halloween masks they can’t take off. Forever stuck between being who they are and who they wish they could be.
For those who’ve already read the book and think they’re supposedly immune to its effects, watching the RTÉ adaptation will pull you RIGHT back into that heartbreak. Daisy Edgar-Jones and Paul Mescal capture the emotional turmoil incredibly well, as if they were possessed by Connell and Marianne themselves. Just when you think you’re safe from Normal People‘s emotional outpouring, the series delivers either a sigh, or a moment of hesitation that undoes all your emotional defences.
In the end, perhaps the scariest thing about Normal People is its portrayal of happiness. It’s not the typical neat happy dovey, achievable endpoint which is oh my gosh so frustrating but as something fragile and fleeting, easily missed from the numerous misunderstandings and the complications of young adulthood. For Connell and Marianne, happiness is always just out of reach, a bit like a phone call that never comes.
I’ll admit, I’ve watched the series over five times, and every time it leaves me a little shaken. So, as the spooky season rolls in, maybe skip the classic horror films, haunted houses and Farmaphobia and dive into Normal People. Give it a rewatch on the RTÉ player or read it again. It may not have classic villains and cults, but it’s full of soul-deep, existential chills and heartbreak. And who knows? You might find that in its quiet tragedy and humour, Normal People speak to the all-too-real horrors of being young, in love, and maybe just a little—if not very—lost.