I struggled massively with this book and really tried to persist in reading it, but o think maybe it’s just not for me (reinforced by the fact that the book I finished the book I read immediately after in a just over a week.

Ordinary People just felt so bogged down in description of clothes, of people, of the weather of the songs playing in the background - it was too much and ironically it meant that I wasn’t able to connect to the plot or any of the characters.

Most of all, and disclaimer here - I don’t think that books have to be relatable for me to enjoy them at all (and I too adore Barack and Michelle) but the almost deification of The Obamas in relation to the black ‘community’, particularly to Black British people felt a bit heavy-handed and unrealistic.

A very confusing book about three couples, whose lives intertwine, in friendship, and with certain of them having affairs. In the midst of all this Melissa thinks her child is possessed by a little girl who used to live in their house.
The constant changing between each of the couples was confusing, and I had to keep checking back who was who.
Some of the characters were OK, but some were almost unbelievable. It felt like two of the women would never be satisfied, who
ever they lived with or where they lived. To be honest I was pleased to reach the end of this book, as I had little sympathy for any of the characters.

Melissa was always happy on her own, she never needed a man to feel complete. Maybe this was due to her father who was everything but a good husband and when her mother had finally left him, things got a lot better. But now she is with Michael and with their two kids they moved into a new house. She already had a bad feeling when she first visited it. Somehow she feels haunted in there and it is obvious that the kids are getting ill and that their relationship is slowly breaking apart. Their friends Damian and Stephanie are troubled, too, Damian is convinced that he is not leading the life he wants to lead whereas his wife is in constant fear of not being the perfect mother. Should all of them maybe just leave London which also seems to become a constant threat?

Diana Evans wrote a novel about “Ordinary People”, people who are caught between the dreams they once had – leading an independent life, having a career, writing a novel, enjoying themselves – and the reality which is full of demands and everyday nuisances that keep them from doing what they would like to do. Apart from daydreaming about the lives they could have, they start questioning if they have chosen the right partner for them. They don’t even know anymore what is more annoying: daily routines or the person next to them.

While Melissa sees more and more ghosts who have a negative influence on her family, Michael turns to his attractive colleague. Stephanie becomes more and more severe in her manners and Damian phantasises about Melissa. None of these options is a way out of their dilemma and when they spend the holidays together and get a closer look at the other couple’s struggles, they realise that they are not alone with their thoughts and fears.

I really liked the author’s way of describing how the characters feel, for example, their not wanting to grow up and consider themselves serious and responsible adults:

They were insisting on their youth. They were carrying it with both hands.

They feel somehow outside themselves in their lives and at some point, even their meant to be significant other cannot make them feel complete since they just don’t understand each other anymore. But, Diana Evans is not too pessimistic, there is some hope:

Sometimes, in the lives of ordinary people, there is a great halt, a revelation, a moment of change. It occurs under low metal skies, never when one is happy.

There will be better times and the sun will also shine again for you. A wonderful novel about most ordinary people and their ordinary lives.

This isn't necessarily a book about race, even though it's set just as Obama becomes US President, and the main protagonists of the book are black. It's primarily, in my opinion, a story of relationships, and specifically the relationships of two couples: Melissa and Michael, and Stephanie and Damien. I was really looking forward to a book set in London (my home town) in the relative present day, but i have to admit that i felt very little joy when reading this book. I get that it's not necessarily a happy story; but it made life in a relationship and life with children seem so utterly depressing. No one seemed to be happy, and they all seemed to be completely incapable of speaking to one another. Small things become big things, big things become insurmountable. I felt like shaking them, to try and knock some sense into them - on many occasions!
Don't get me wrong - I liked it (a Goodreads 3 stars, which is a 'like'), but I didn't LOVE it. And I felt it could have been so much more.

Really enjoyed the first 100 or so pages before I felt adrift with no real plot to pull me through.

Essentially th eatery of two couples and their struggles to keep their relationships alive through the arrival of children, of temptations, against a backdrop of tension in south London..

Some of the insight into the relationships, particularly Michael and Meliissa, I felt really well captured but even this lost my interest by the end and I did find myself skimming in some chapters.

An ok read, but not as overwhelmed as I’d hoped.

Diana Evans' third novel is bookended by a party to celebrate Obama's election as the first black president of the USA, and by the death of Michael Jackson. Against this slice of history two relationships in London start to fall apart. The ordinary people of the title are middle class couples facing the strains of ordinary domesticity, possible extra-marital affairs and divorce, the loss of parents and jobs. They're also the 'ordinary people' of John Legend's lyrics:
We're just ordinary people
We don't know which way to go
'Cause we're ordinary people
Maybe we should take it slow
At the beginning we meet Melissa and Michael who live in a lop-sided house in South London, not far from Crystal Palace (a recurring theme throughout the novel). They're seen at the party both 'on the far side of youth' but still a glamorous couple. Adult life has 'revealed itself, wearing a limp, grey dressing gown' but with their children away for the night, Michael at least feels 'a pressing obligation... to deliriously copulate'. But nothing goes to plan and, after the party, back in their house in the ironically-named Paradise Row, domestic needs take over: Melissa finds a mouse, a wardrobe rail collapses and the sex is no good. Michael compares himself to the singer in 'Ordinary People' Passed the infatuation phase /Right in the thick of love. But everything is going wrong and he can't control it.
Melissa is struggling with the joint pressures of crushing domesticity, and the loss of her career: where she was an 'I' rather than a 'we'. Descriptions of the dragging details of being at home with small children and trying to work freelance, are both hilarious and poignant. For Melissa there are hints (from her Nigerian mother) of the supernatural, of 'night things' - 'beings who walk in the night hours, not quite human, who watch us.' Symbolic of what is wrong in their relationship. There is a recurring image of the 1851 Great Exhibition and how the Crystal Palace was moved south of the river, and eventually burned down.
Then there's Damian (Michael's university friend) who lives with Stephanie in leafy Surrey. He's reassured by 'her aptitude for contentment' so has been persuaded to move away from London to Dorking because she's worried about inner city violence affecting the children. She loves their house with its 'neatness and thick upstairs carpets and old wooden surfaces'. Damien is struggling with the long commute, the recent death of his father and a sense that he's not doing anything important with his life. His father, a political activist, campaigned constantly against racial inequality, but ended up a lonely, disappointed man. Damien misses London: 'the stern beauty of church women on Sunday mornings, the West End, the art in the air, the music in the air, the sense of possibility'. He has a running question in his mind: How long will you go on living your life as if you were balancing on a ribbon? Stuck at the bottom of a drawer he has an unfinished novel.
From here everything gradually unravels for both couples. But what makes this novel stand out is that although the main characters are black or mixed race, this isn't the focus of the book. Race is addressed in Stephanie's fears that London isn't a place to bring up children, and in Damien's father's fight against racist attitudes, but this is a novel about relationships, not race. And in this it is quietly revolutionary. And also wonderfully funny. Ordinary People is a finely-nuanced novel of contemporary relationships that is both compelling and vital.

Diana Evans's Ordinary People is not a novel that is primarily about race. As Evans notes in a very interesting interview in the Guardian: 'I don’t say that I don’t write about race because I don’t think you can write about black characters without writing about race, it’s so deeply engrained... But I don’t want my characters to be hidden by that. I want to write about the things that really fascinate me, like the experience of middle age, identity crises.' Writing about black lives without placing race front and centre is something that Evans pulls off very well. Ordinary People focuses on four people - Melissa, Michael, Damian and Stephanie - three of whom are black. Melissa's family come from Nigeria, Michael's and Damian's from Jamaica, and they all, in different ways, feel the daily realities of being black in a white-dominated world. Michael is the most conscious of these small injustices (often to the impatience of his partner, Melissa), noting how often he's the only black man in the room, and realising how different it is to sleep with a white woman who doesn't share his lived experience. But Melissa's narrative registers these things as well: for example, when she praises MAC makeup for having a range of brown skin tones, rather than the one or two that other brands provide. Evans' subtlety means that these details feed into her characters' identities almost invisibly.

However, if Ordinary People isn't about race, what is is about? Much of the novel's plot feels incredibly familiar. Both couples are well-off Londoners in their late thirties or early forties with small children. Melissa misses her full-time job in journalism, and is struggling to combine freelancing with child care, while envying Stephanie, who seems to effortlessly inhabit full-time motherhood. Both Damian and Michael wonder if this is all there is to life, and toy with the idea of leaving their partners. Michael starts drinking too much; Melissa struggles with the banalities of a soft play centre; both couples decide to holiday together in Spain. The novel repeats these tropes verbatim. Much is made of the differences between Melissa and Stephanie, and between Michael and Damian, but in reality their lives are very, very similar. While I agree with Evans that there should be more writing about black lives in London, this novel brings very little else to the table.

Frustratingly, there's a hint of an interesting thread at the beginning and end of Ordinary People, which centres on Michael and Melissa's new house. Having met an unwell child when she was looking around the property, Melissa starts to believe that the house is haunted. She's especially worried about her own young daughter, Ria, who develops mysterious ailments such as dry hands and a persistent limp. Turning to her Nigerian mother for advice, she leaves onion halves around the house to ward off spirits, though she rejects the idea of sleeping with a whole plantain under her pillow. Melissa's fears culminate in the last few pages of the novel, where Evans knots them expertly into her frustration and isolation as the primary carer.  But this plot isn't given nearly enough page-space throughout the rest of the novel for this climax to have the force that it needs. Evans is obviously a good writer - but I didn't find her choice of material captivating here. I'm now intrigued to read her debut, 26a, which promises more in terms of the supernatural themes that are hinted at in Ordinary People.

Ordinary people - ordinary book. This is a novel that promises a lot: some kind of State of the Union for black Londoners in the aftermath of the Obama election. But the reality is grinding drudgery of Londoners worried about house prices, prestige and how many friends they have. There's a couple (Damian and Stephanie) that have relocated to outer suburbia, and another couple (Melissa and Michael) living in Sarf Lahndan. They worry about jobs and babies and sex. Then they worry some more about jobs and babies and sex.

Look, I got to a third of the way through and found that I didn't care about the characters, couldn't tell them apart, had no idea what they were looking for or how they inter-related. If you ask me what the book is about, I couldn't really say. Perhaps it's the way high hopes dispel into the mundane. If so, I feel that I got the message.

Sure, there are individual scenes that are good, funny even. The baby-singing class, for example, and the saleswoman who is so concerned to push her ten lessons for the price of nine. But it isn't enough to sustain interest. Ordinary People is not even an outrageously long novel, but the complete lack of any development - plot or character - just makes it feel like there's a law of diminishing returns at play. So I didn't hate what I read, but I just increasingly wished I were reading something different.

Having just finished this book I have an exhausted, slightly dazed feeling, as if I have ran a marathon or had a very intense conversation with a friend.

This book seems to change genres as the tale progresses. Initially it was a Zadie Smith love letter to South London, then a exploration of how tough life is once you have children and life isn't 'all about me', then a really weird ghost story and then a quick wrap up of Zadie.

The premise of two couples working through their differences as their lives change was interesting. I did get frustrated with the continual whining about how life is not as exciting as when they were younger; yes you change, life is different but surely there are some positives?

A few times I just felt there were too many words, I am sure that is not a technical book description but gosh, some of the descriptions were unnecessary and some of the introspection just went on too long.

I did enjoy the story, and I was stimulated by the writing style, it would have benefited from a tighter edit.

There is some lovely descriptive writing in this novel. It really captures the desire some people have to tear everything down and start again.
The female characters are much more sympathetic than the men, who are all man-babies, putting themselves first, and then being surprised when their partners withdraw from them.
The book is ultimately hopeful. The main characters endure a lot of upheaval and change, but we are given the sense that everything is going to be alright in the end.

I received an ARC of Ordinary people in exchange for an honest review. Thank you to NetGalley, Random House UK, and Vintage Publishing.

As a born and bred Londoner myself, I enjoyed Evans’ depiction and perspective of the city, but I have to say I agree with other reviewers in that the book was far too long and overly descriptive. Evans was bombastic at times, and the chapters felt padded out with a lot of superfluous material that didn’t add anything to the narrative.
The plot itself was interesting and had promise, but it was unbearably depressing at times, highlighting the realities and mundanities of everyday life after marriage, children, and the monotony of work. It also felt confused at times, with the strange addition of a ghost story element towards the end, which seemed entirely out of place.
This is a story of the trials and tribulations of ordinary people, ordinary lives, and ordinary relationships, but despite this you hope that a good piece of fiction can make something routine and ordinary extraordinary, and unfortunately this book fails in that respect.

Ordinary People is a story about two couples living south of the river in London in 2008 and how they reach tiny breaking points. Melissa and Michael have a terraced house and a new baby along with their daughter Ria, but they are falling slowly apart. Michael focuses on his commute on the 176 bus and an image of Melissa in the past that doesn’t account for who she is now, whereas Melissa thinks the house is bearing down on her and doesn’t want to let Michael close. Further out in the suburbs, Michael’s old friend Damien and his wife Stephanie are trying to keep together after the death of Damien’s father and the realities of no longer living in the city.

This is a novel about relationships, family, and location, tied together by south London and by different characters’ versions of being a black Londoner. It shows the minutiae of domesticity and the ways in which tiny misunderstandings and closed off moments build up. The narrative is focused upon the characters and their relationships rather than events, which gives it a sense of being a kind of fictional snapshot into people’s lives.

The highlight of Ordinary People is its depiction of south London, full of geographical specificity and recognisable elements and descriptions. It is a novel for people who like reading books set in London that focus on character and relationships and how people’s identities are shaped by themselves and others.

A tale of Paradise in suburbia, where all is not as it seems...

This book dipped in and out of brilliance. There were flashes of wonder, which I very much enjoyed, alongside parts which would have worked better with a little more resolution. On the whole though, I really enjoyed this read!