Dear Morrissey

‘This supermarket has more books than the town’s bookshop,’ I say to my brother and he laughs. We are both doing our weekly shop and we know that the town’s bookshop – a newsagent, actually, with mostly self-help, Christian and Y.A. books on display – has less and less books these days, and doesn’t even sell printed newspapers anymore.

Then I spot by the supermarket’s cashier “Caro Morrissey” (or "Dear Morrissey" though its original title in English is "The Wrong Boy"). I pick it up and read its back cover. It seems to be a teen story, perhaps in the mould of “Love, Simon” or one of John Green’s novels. I’ve never heard of it before and I’m an ex-Morrissey fan!

I once heard The Bolshoi’s “Sunday Morning” piped through the supermarket and it stopped me dead on my tracks. It’s only ever Brazilian country music (“Música Sertaneja”) in this corner of Brazil. Hardly anyone speaks English, and much less reads (unless it’s the Bible). Morrissey is as likely a presence here as goths in moon boots.

I get home and Google the author, Willy Russell. He wrote the plays “Educating Rita” and “Shirley Valentine”. “The Wrong Boy” was his first and only novel, written in June 1991 – an epistolary novel about an awkward teenager who writes letters to his hero, the Smiths’ frontman.

You really have no control on where your creations will go after they are released into the world.

Book review: Normal People by Sally Rooney

Normal People by Sally Rooney

My rating: 3 of 5 stars

Being called “the Voice of a Generation” can be the kiss of death for any artist. Look at Suede, the early 90s “Best New Band”. Look at Zadie Smith, best new writer when “White Teeth” came out (which she now says she can’t even read as it makes her cringe). Look at countless others that were propped up by the press only to be knocked down later on.

I hope Rooney can weather the moniker. I came to Sally Rooney’s “Normal People” completely oblivious to what it was about. It was only after finishing it I saw the “Voice of a Generation” headlines. I heard there was a BBC series, and I’d seen a still image with a young man and woman; my brain assumed it was some kind of romantic comedy ala Jane Austen. It’s as unlike Austen as anything and, in fact, it’s much closer to early Bret Easton Ellis (another “Voice of a Generation”).

Some critics have suggested “Normal People” is a piece of autofiction (it takes place in the university Rooney attended, the characters are her age, etc.) There’s an immediate closeness to the two central characters, Marianne and Connell, brought on by a narrative heavy on dialogue and sparse on details, as we meet them in their late teens and follow their friendship until their mid-20s. The story starts in their small hometown in West Ireland, and then moves to Dublin, where they both attend the same university.

Like Easton Ellis, and unlike Austen, peripheral characters are mostly sketches, apart from Connell’s mom, who works as a cleaner for Marianne’s family and who is beautifully rendered. I also felt that Connell was perfectly realised – that Rooney got inside the mind of a particular type of male with great success. Marianne, on the other hand, felt badly developed. I didn’t buy into her masochistic streak and couldn’t understand why her family abused her. Towards the end, she comes dangerously close to Manic Pixie Dream Girl territory.

“Normal People” is a good read – a sort of “damaged” love story – but it’s a continent I’ve sailed away from some time ago (I’m now in my mid-forties). Although it was interesting to be reminded of the kind of self-absorption all 20-year-olds are prone to, I was also glad to no longer inhabit that land. It’s a world of shifting sand, where you are a loser one day and popular the next, where you want to hear the sound of your own voice so you can better understand yourself through the reaction of others. Self-absorbed people are the least interesting people of all, but Rooney softens these characters by making them both fatherless and deeply sensitive about the shames they carry. Like the Ireland they inhabit, it’s as sunny a read as you’d expect.

View all my reviews