They used to date. Now they are just best friends who finish each other’s sentences and perform spoken word poetry together. They are a unit. When Frances spirals into the affair, Bobbi is the one who gets hurt. The jealousy, the codependency, and the unspoken "what if" between the two women is far more complex than the heterosexual drama.
She wants us to think she is a cold, rational observer. She is not. She is a volcano trying to pass itself off as a flat screen. Let’s address the plot: Frances begins an affair with Nick, Melissa’s husband. However, Rooney refuses to write a steamy, taboo thriller. Instead, the affair is conducted via stilted emails, silent car rides, and conversations about Marxism.
What makes it compelling is the silence . Frances and Nick communicate through what they don't say. They are both terrified of vulnerability. Frances uses her illness and her youth as a shield; Nick uses his guilt and his age as his.
Rooney suggests that romantic love is often just a practice run for the harder work of friendship. Frances lies to Nick constantly, but she hides her true self from Bobbi, which is arguably a bigger betrayal. You cannot talk about this book without talking about the lack of quotation marks. Conversations with Friends
But it is real .
It captures the specific loneliness of being in your early twenties: the feeling that your body is betraying you, that your intellect is your only weapon, and that you are always performing for an audience that isn't there.
Critics love to hate it, but in Conversations with Friends , the missing punctuation serves a purpose. It collapses the distance between dialogue and narration. When Frances speaks, it flows directly into her internal monologue. Are these words she said out loud, or just thought? Often, we can’t tell. They used to date
This stylistic choice mimics the experience of anxiety. The line between what is real (spoken) and what is internal (thought) blurs. Frances lives so much in her head that she sometimes forgets to actually live in the room. Conversations with Friends is not a comfortable read. Frances is prickly, self-destructive, and often unfair to the people who love her. Nick is frustratingly passive. The ending is ambiguous.
Frances is the "cool girl" archetype deconstructed. She watches her ex-girlfriend (and current best friend) Bobbi flirt with a glamorous older photographer named Melissa. She watches Melissa’s husband, Nick, suffer from depression and a failing acting career. She watches, analyzes, and files everything away.
But the genius of the novel is that Frances is also watching us watching her. The novel is told in the first person, past tense. Frances is recounting a period of her life where she lost control, yet she does so with a clinical detachment that feels like a defense mechanism. When Frances spirals into the affair, Bobbi is
In one of the most devastating scenes, Nick tells Frances he loves her. Frances’ internal reaction is violent and emotional, but her external response is a flat: "Okay."
4.5/5 Recommended if you like: Greta Gerwig’s Frances Ha , crying in the bathtub, and emails that feel like love letters. Have you read Conversations with Friends ? Do you think Frances deserves Nick? Or do you think Bobbi was right all along? Let me know in the comments below.
Published in 2017, before Normal People broke the internet and made chain-link necklaces a symbol of existential angst, Conversations with Friends laid the blueprint for what would become the "Rooneyverse": razor-sharp dialogue, emotionally constipated intellectuals, and the quiet agony of trying to be a good person while desperately wanting things you shouldn’t.
If you picked up Sally Rooney’s debut novel, Conversations with Friends , expecting a lighthearted romp through Dublin’s literary scene, you probably found yourself putting it down to stare at the wall for twenty minutes. You aren’t alone.