Sally Rooney’s Normal People, adapted into a 12-episode series, is a piercing depiction of first love, heartbreak and its lasting mark. The series stars Daisy Edgar-Jones as Marianne and Paul Mescal as Connell. Their performances breathe life into a story that feels achingly authentic. Normal People doesn’t sugarcoat emotions or offer the escapism of romanticised storytelling; instead, it lays bare the unrelenting vulnerability of love and loss.

Connell and Marianne’s relationship begins in the unassuming setting of a small Irish town, where unspoken power imbalances and social constructs shape their relationship. Connell, reserved and well-liked, is burdened by the expectations of fitting in; Marianne, intelligent yet isolated, yearns for acceptance and validation. Their bond is marked by a constant push-and-pull dynamic, where one often gives more than the other can reciprocate.

From the start, it’s clear that theirs is not an equal exchange; Marianne gives more than she receives, often placing Connell’s needs and insecurities above her own. Their relationship vacillates between moments of profound connection and agonising miscommunication. When Connell refuses to acknowledge Marianne publicly during their school years, the sting of rejection is palpable. For Marianne, this lack of appreciation echoes the emotional neglect she endures at home, leaving her to fight for her self-worth. Connell, meanwhile, finds it difficult to reconcile his love for Marianne with his insecurities and the societal pressures that keep him from fully committing to her.

Connell and Marianne’s bond shapes their identities, influencing their relationships with others. Their love is not confined to the time they spend together. They carry the lessons, wounds and unresolved feelings, as their love evolves into something more complicated, more internal. Even as they grow apart, the memories linger like a ghost haunting their present.

As they move from school to university, the dynamic shifts. Marianne finds herself thriving in an environment where she is no longer an outsider; Connell struggles with his sense of belonging and mental health. Their growth is portrayed with an authenticity that feels almost voyeuristic. The series does not gloss over the discomfort of personal development. Instead, it shows how people change, sometimes growing closer and at other times drifting apart. Their roles reverse, yet the power imbalance persists.

Distance, both physical and emotional, becomes another significant trial for Marianne and Connell. Their on-again, off-again relationship is punctuated by prolonged separations during which they attempt to move on but remain inextricably connected. The portrayal of long-distance love in Normal People is stripped of romanticised ideals. Instead it is presented as a complicated and emotionally taxing reality where longing and miscommunication are ever-present. Even as they drift apart, their bond never fully breaks. Their connection refuses to fade, no matter how much time or space intervenes.

Perhaps the most impressive aspect of Normal People is its depiction of physical intimacy. These scenes are not gratuitous but are charged with emotional vulnerability. For Connell and Marianne, physical intimacy becomes another language — a way to express love, trust and sometimes, pain. These moments are deeply intimate yet painfully human, exposing the fragile underpinnings of their relationship and how certain connections leave lasting imprints that endure long after the relationship ends.

Connell and Marianne’s bond shapes their identities, influencing their relationships with others. Their love is not confined to the time they spend together. They carry the lessons, wounds and unresolved feelings as their love evolves into something more complicated, more internal. Even as they grow apart, the memories linger. The final episodes drive this point home as Connell and Marianne part ways once again, still connected but aware that their paths are diverging. The pain of truly letting go is shown with heartbreaking subtlety, defying closure.

Normal People is not a series one can watch passively. It demands emotional investment and, in many cases, brings unresolved feelings to the surface, making viewers feel vulnerable as if they are reliving parts of their own stories. It feels deeply personal, almost intrusive in its honesty.

The series requires emotional fortitude to watch as it peels back layers of romantic idealism to reveal the painful truths beneath. Connell and Marianne’s connection feels less fictional and more like a raw, uncomfortable and honest reflection of reality. It’s not just a story of love and heartbreak; it’s a meditation on what it means to be human, to love deeply and to carry that experience with you long after it has ended.

The author is a freelance contributor