Name: Conversations with Friends
Rating: 3.810307346326836 (1334 reviews)
ISBN: 9780451499059

Sally Rooney

Originally published: London: Faber & Faber Limited, 2017.

A Novel

Conversations with Friends

Vojtech

ikkychan

Sally Rooney’s Conversations with Friends
 is often lauded as a groundbreaking work that intertwines Marxist, feminist, and progressive ideals with the intricacies of modern relationships. As her debut novel, it promised to challenge societal norms and interrogate privilege through the lens of young intellectuals navigating love, identity, and power. However, while the book’s reputation rests on these lofty ideological claims, its narrative ultimately undermines them through the actions and dynamics of its central characters. Frances, the protagonist, frequently espouses progressive values, yet her choices reveal contradictions that dilute the novel’s ideological core. By failing to reconcile these contradictions or offer meaningful critiques of privilege and systemic inequality, Rooney’s narrative highlights the overwhelming unfulfilled potential of a work that could have been a truly radical voice in contemporary literature. Instead, Conversations with Friends emerges as a mirror of performative progressivism, its ambitions overshadowed by its inability to fully deliver on its promises. Frances, a 21-year-old college student who performs spoken word poetry with her best friend and ex-girlfriend Bobbi, first meets Nicka 32-year-old actor, when Melissa, Nick’s wife, invites her and Bobbi to a dinner party at their house. Viewing the world through a lens of insecurity, Frances feels that her and Nick’s presence at the party seems arbitrary compared to their two self-assured, socially savvy counterparts, Melissa and Bobbi, who share a bond through their similar temperaments. Seeking a kindred spirit, Frances begins to converse with Nick, and they gradually get to know each other better. What starts as a casual acquaintance quickly shifts as they become aware of their mutual attraction. Frances and Nick's dynamic during their early interactions is complex, layered, and charged with subtle tension. Their relationship, even at this initial stage, is characterized by an interplay of flirtation, mutual curiosity, and an underlying imbalance of power and perception. Frances and Nick exhibit a restrained but palpable flirtation. Nick’s comments, like “I warmed to you more” and “I’ll send you an email about it,” demonstrate his interest in Frances, but they are couched in a disarmingly casual and playful tone. Frances, on her part, mirrors this playfulness, responding with quips like “I’m drawn to the poetic types” or “Don’t let that get in the way of our natural rapport.” Her humor is self-aware and slightly provocative, suggesting a desire to engage Nick on equal footing despite his status and age. The age and status difference between Frances and Nick introduces a subtle tension in their relationship. Frances is 21 and relatively inexperienced, while Nick is 32, married, and a public figure. This difference shapes their interactions; Frances often emphasizes the gap in a playful but slightly defensive way (e.g., “Don’t let that get in the way of our natural rapport”), suggesting both her awareness of the imbalance and her attempt to mitigate it. Nick’s reaction to her age (e.g., “For a second he looked at me like he thought I was kidding”) reveals his own discomfort or hesitation, though he ultimately continues to engage with her. As they begin their affair, Frances and Nick’s dynamic reveals a mix of emotional imbalances, miscommunication, and mutual discomfort, which speaks to larger themes of power, vulnerability, and ambiguity in modern relationships. Frances appears deeply emotionally invested, even as she attempts to mask her feelings with sarcasm and detachment. Her introspection reveals a desire for clarity and intimacy that Nick seems either unwilling or unable to provide. This creates a dynamic where Frances is more vulnerable, questioning both Nick's intentions and her own role in the affair. For instance, her self-reflection, "I wondered if he saw me as a real person or just a phase," indicates her insecurity and the unequal stakes in their relationship. Nick, on the other hand, maintains a guarded and detached stance. His communication is often apologetic yet noncommittal, reflecting a reluctance to fully engage with the emotional consequences of the affair. His line, "I never wanted this to get so complicated," suggests that he views the relationship as something simpler and less fraught than Frances does, further underscoring the disparity in their emotional investment. The affair’s inherent power imbalance—shaped by the age gap, Nick’s marital status, and his established life compared to Frances’ relative inexperience—further complicates their dynamic. Nick’s passivity allows him to maintain control without taking over responsibility, while Frances is left navigating her own feelings of guilt and inadequacy. Frances’ observation that Nick’s words "felt carefully chosen, like he was crafting a statement for public consumption" highlights her perception of his detachment and lack of authenticity. This contributes to her growing sense of being emotionally isolated within the relationship, despite her attempts to connect. The dynamic also reveals their conflicting desires. Frances seeks emotional clarity and meaning in their interactions, even as she grapples with guilt and self-doubt. Her physical attraction to Nick often clashes with her awareness of the moral and emotional complexities of their affair. Nick, meanwhile, seems to compartmentalize the relationship, treating it as a private escape rather than a deeply emotional connection. His guilt is evident in his emails, but it coexists with a lack of active engagement in addressing the consequences of his actions. The reliance on digital communication—emails and instant messages—reflects their inability to foster true intimacy. These exchanges, while a practical necessity, create a barrier to authentic connection. Frances’ remark about Nick’s emails feeling impersonal underscores how their interactions are mediated by technology, amplifying their emotional distance. When Nick confesses the affair to Melissa and the relationship transitions into a quasi-throuple arrangement, a new emotional dynamic emerges. With the secrecy lifted, Frances and Nick’s relationship becomes more transparent, yet paradoxically, it brings new vulnerabilities to the surface. Nick’s candid admission of love for Frances marks a turning point, signaling a deeper emotional investment. For Frances, this openness is both exhilarating and disarming. She describes feeling "defenseless" during intimate moments, suggesting that while the relationship has gained emotional depth, it also exposes her to a heightened sense of vulnerability. "Certain elements of my relationship with Nick had changed since he told Melissa we were together. I sent him sentimental texts during daytime hours and he called me when he was drunk to tell me nice things about my personality," Here, Frances notes changes in how they communicate: the daytime texts and drunken declarations contrast with the guarded interactions of the past. However, the newfound openness comes with complexities, as Frances grapples with feelings of exposure and dependency. Despite the advantages of openness, Frances and Nick’s relationship remains fraught with uncertainty and emotional turbulence. Their conversations about potential parenthood and Nick’s relationship with Melissa reveal unresolved tensions and lingering insecurities. For instance, Frances’s ironic comment about having children underscores her fear of fully confronting the future implications of their relationship. "I didn’t want to ask, because I was afraid of finding out that they did plan to, so instead I affected an ironic tone and said: maybe you and I could have children together," here, Frances uses irony to shield herself from deeper anxieties, while Nick’s reaction—lighthearted yet thoughtful—reveals his own conflicting emotions about the idea of family and permanence. This conflict of interest is further highlighted in the climax of their relationship, when Nick discloses the fact to Frances that he and Melissa rekindled their intimacy. His decision heavily affects Frances, leading to heartbreak and extreme jealousy. This reveals a complex interplay of her emotional needs, power dynamics, and self-perception throughout her relationship with Nick and her struggles with the reality of her role and emotional expectations, despite knowingly entering an affair with a married man. Frances may have entered the affair believing she could maintain emotional detachment, but over time, she becomes emotionally invested in Nick. When he reveals he is sleeping with Melissa again, it reinforces her secondary position in his life, starkly contrasting her deeper desire for connection and priority. Despite the ostensibly casual nature of their relationship, Frances harbors a subconscious desire for exclusivity, as suggested in her reflections on wanting Nick to "renounce every other person and thing" for her. This desire conflicts with her awareness of the affair’s limitations, leading to an internal dissonance that manifests as jealousy and anger. Frances' reactions suggest a struggle for control in the relationship. Nick’s choice to sleep with Melissa highlights her lack of power and reminds her of her precarious position. This realization exacerbates her feelings of inadequacy and vulnerability. When Nick reaffirms his relationship with Melissa, it mirrors Frances’ internalized fears of being disposable and not enough. Feeling lost and frustrated by her inward conflicts, Frances enters a church and fervently prays, and suddenly faints in a feverish state. Her collapse is the culmination of her entanglement with Melissa and Nick’s dysfunction, as well as her own internal struggles. Her prayer in the church, despite her admitted disbelief, reflects a desperate search for meaning amidst emotional turmoil. She questions her relationships—her love for Bobbi, Nick, Melissa, and even her parents—and ultimately broadens this reflection to include her existence and identity. Her collapse represents a breaking point, where the weight of these relationships and her own insecurities becomes unbearable. This moment also marks a turning point for Frances. Her introspection in the church suggests the beginning of a shift from external validation—seeking love and affirmation from Nick, Bobbi, and others—to an awareness of her interconnectedness with humanity. The imagery of the church as a place built by countless unseen hands mirrors Frances's realization that she is both an individual and a product of others' labor and influence. This epiphany doesn’t resolve her pain but introduces the possibility of growth. However, it’s surprisingly easy for Rooney to thwart her own character’s steps toward betterment and progress with one easy swoop of blast from the past, when Nick ‘accidentally’ dials Frances’ number and through a nice little chit chat they agree to meet and do whatever at this point, even I am at a loss for words, as any hope for the characters or the story seems irretrievably lost. This ending is deeply frustrating because it blatantly undermines Frances' prior development and self-empowerment arc. Throughout the story, we witness Frances grappling with heartbreak, finding her footing, and beginning to reclaim her sense of self after being emotionally sidelined by Nick. However, this reunion shatters any sense of resolution or growth. Instead of allowing Frances to move forward, the narrative drags her back into Nick's orbit—an orbit that centers on his comfort, his needs, and his passive, self-serving approach to their relationship. Nick’s call, ostensibly accidental, is emblematic of his manipulation. Even his initial mistake—dialing Frances while intending to call Melissa—reflects his perpetual prioritization of others over Frances. His tone, casual and apologetic, deflects accountability for the pain he caused her, diminishing the gravity of his past neglect. What’s most infuriating is how Frances, despite her earlier resolve, acquiesces to this dynamic yet again. Nick dominates the conversation with his superficial warmth and faux vulnerability, expertly dodging responsibility. His attempts to absolve himself—claiming he refrained from calling to respect her boundaries—are maddeningly insincere. He centers himself as a victim of circumstance, glossing over the imbalance in their relationship and the emotional harm he inflicted. Frances’ response, oscillating between guarded sarcasm and sincere yearning, highlights how his charm continues to disarm her, rendering her progress moot. Sally Rooney's choice to end the story this way feels like a betrayal of Frances’ journey. It reinforces a toxic cycle where Nick's minimal effort and manipulative charm keep Frances tethered to him, erasing the strides she made toward self-reliance. By reuniting them, the narrative sends the disheartening message that Frances' emotional needs and personal growth are secondary to preserving Nick’s comfort. Instead of empowering her to break free, the ending traps her in a repetitive, unfulfilling dynamic—one where her agency is perpetually undermined. This resolution not only disrespects the character's arc but also perpetuates the damaging trope of romanticizing unhealthy relationships. This is where my disappointment with Sally Rooney lies: the blatant disparity between the ideological reputation of her works and the narrative execution. Her books, often celebrated as Marxist, feminist, and progressive, fall short in offering substantive critiques of privilege and systemic inequality. Frances, who identifies as a communist, ostensibly rejects wealth and privilege but consistently benefits from and perpetuates the structures she critiques. For example, she lives rent-free in her uncle’s apartment, a privilege she neither questions nor acknowledges as inconsistent with her ideological stance. Her reliance on financial support from her parents, coupled with her mockery of Bobbi for not having a job, reveals a contradiction. While Frances takes pride in earning money from her published story, she ridicules Bobbi for her lack of employment, exposing a lack of coherence in her beliefs. Her claim of indifference to wealth is further undermined by her eventual satisfaction in earning money, which she uses to fund leisure activities. Frances’ interactions with wealth are fraught with tension. Her fascination with Melissa’s and Nick’s affluent lifestyles contrasts starkly with her professed disdain for inequality. Her mother’s observation about her attraction to "posh houses" stings because it rings true, highlighting the performative nature of her communism. Frances uses labels like "communist" to construct an intellectual identity, but her actions seldom align with these ideals. This performativity extends to her political discussions with Bobbi and her mother, which remain largely theoretical, lacking translation into lived values. Humor and sarcasm often mask Frances’ insecurities, particularly in exchanges with Nick or when she downplays her career aspirations. These defenses suggest an awareness of her contradictions but an unwillingness to address them. Her simultaneous rejection and reliance on privilege encapsulate the unresolved tension between her ideological aspirations and the comforts of her privileged position. This dissonance critiques not only Frances but also a broader societal hypocrisy—where individuals showcase progressive values while benefiting from structural privilege. This inconsistency also surfaces in Frances’ stance on non-monogamous relationships. She aligns herself with progressive ideals by engaging in discussions about non-monogamy, often led by Bobbi’s critiques of monogamy. Frances admires Bobbi’s intellectual rigor but struggles to embody similar principles in her personal life. Her emotional entanglement with Nick is fraught with a desire for exclusivity, revealing a conflict with her purported beliefs. Frances exhibits jealousy and dissatisfaction with her secondary role in Nick’s life, desiring the prioritization typical of monogamous relationships. While her cognitive dissonance reflects a genuine struggle to reconcile ideals with emotional vulnerabilities, Rooney’s narrative undermines its supposed progressive stance. The story critiques Frances’ contradictions but fails to hold Nick accountable, perpetuating the traditional dynamics the novel outwardly challenges. The novel’s feminist reputation also falters when examining its portrayal of relationships. Melissa’s email to Frances, acknowledging their competition for Nick’s validation, underscores a lack of feminist solidarity. Instead of addressing structural power dynamics or focusing on their empowerment, both women remain ensnared in cycles of seeking male approval. Melissa’s critique exposes not only Frances’ flaws but also her own, reflecting the societal pressures women face to center men in their relationships. These dynamics suggest an internalized struggle against patriarchal norms, but the narrative does little to resolve this tension meaningfully. Frances’ inability to move on from Nick, despite recognizing his flaws, underscores her dependence on male validation. Her intellectual pursuit of empowerment is undermined by her emotional stagnation. The ending reinforces this by prioritizing Frances’ emotional attachment over self-growth, erasing the empowerment she briefly gains through solidarity with Bobbi. If the narrative truly aimed to center feminist ideals, Frances’ journey could have culminated in self-discovery and confidence independent of male validation. A more satisfying trajectory might have seen Frances reconciling with Melissa, fostering mutual understanding rather than hostility, and holding Nick accountable for his role in perpetuating harmful dynamics. Ultimately, Rooney’s reputation as a feminist writer is undermined by her own narrative choices. By failing to provide her characters with opportunities for meaningful growth or accountability, the story perpetuates the very structures it seeks to critique. This diminishes the novel’s potential to engage deeply with its feminist and progressive themes, leaving its supposed ideological commitments unfulfilled.

“[A] cult-hit . . . [a] sharply realistic comedy of adultery and friendship.”—Entertainment Weekly WINNER OF THE SUNDAY TIMES (UK) YOUNG WRITER OF THE YEAR AWARD • NAMED ONE OF THE TEN BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY VOGUE AND SLATE AND ONE OF THE BEST BOOKS OF THE YEAR BY BUZZFEED AND ELLE Frances is a coolheaded and darkly observant young woman, vaguely pursuing a career in writing while studying in Dublin. Her best friend is the beautiful and endlessly self-possessed Bobbi. At a local poetry performance one night, they meet a well-known photographer, and as the girls are then gradually drawn into her world, Frances is reluctantly impressed by the older woman’s sophisticated home and handsome husband, Nick. But however amusing Frances and Nick’s flirtation seems at first, it begins to give way to a strange—and then painful—intimacy. Written with gemlike precision and marked by a sly sense of humor, Conversations with Friends is wonderfully alive to the pleasures and dangers of youth, and the messy edges of female friendship SHORTLISTED FOR THE INTERNATIONAL DUBLIN LITERARY AWARD “Sharp, funny, thought-provoking . . . a really great portrait of two young women as they’re figuring out how to be adults.”—Celeste Ng, “Late Night with Seth Meyers Podcast” “The dialogue is superb, as are the insights about communicating in the age of electronic devices. Rooney has a magical ability to write scenes of such verisimilitude that even when little happens they’re suspenseful.”—Curtis Sittenfeld, The Week “Rooney has the gift of imbuing everyday life with a sense of high stakes . . . a novel of delicious frictions.”—New York “A writer of rare confidence, with a lucid, exacting style . . . One wonderful aspect of Rooney’s consistently wonderful novel is the fierce clarity with which she examines the self-delusion that so often festers alongside presumed self-knowledge. . . . But Rooney’s natural power is as a psychological portraitist. She is acute and sophisticated about the workings of innocence; the protagonist of this novel about growing up has no idea just how much of it she has left to do.”—Alexandra Schwartz, The New Yorker “This book. This book. I read it in one day. I hear I’m not alone.”—Sarah Jessica Parker (Instagram)

Kinanti Desyanandini

I found the characters infuriating and at times, incredibly superficial. Perhaps it was my subtle expectation for a sweet return to fiction, or my idealistic hopes. The stories were too fragmented for me to appreciate the development of their relationships — despite how much I wanted to enjoy this book, normal people imo is much better.

Nadine MacDonald

Her writing is great, but I absolutely hated the characters and the whole plot. I think readers are supposed to find this dynamic between the 4 friends/lovers complicated, fun and exciting, and I'm sure that's why so many people love it. I personally found all the affairs, lack of communication, and lies to be gross. I skipped some of part 2 to get to the end and I'm glad I'm rid of it. If you are turned away by cheating and unnecessary scandal as I am then this might not be for you!

Yulez

Sally Rooney and the way she makes me feel uncomfortably perceived is both alarming and wonderful. 

WINNER OF THE SUNDAY TIMES / PFD YOUNG WRITER OF THE YEAR SHORTLISTED FOR THE DYLAN THOMAS PRIZE 2018 SHORTLISTED FOR THE KERRY GROUP IRISH NOVEL OF THE YEAR 2018 SHORTLISTED FOR THE RATHBONES FOLIO PRIZE 2018 LONGLISTED FOR THE DESMOND ELLIOTT PRIZE 2018 A SUNDAY TIMES, OBSERVER AND TELEGRAPH BOOK OF THE YEAR Frances is twenty-one years old, cool-headed and darkly observant. A college student in Dublin and aspiring writer, she works at a literary agency by day. At night, she performs spoken word with her best friend Bobbi, who used to be her girlfriend. When they are profiled by Melissa, a well-known journalist, they enter an exotic orbit of beautiful houses, raucous dinner parties and holidays in Provence. Initially unimpressed, Frances finds herself embroiled in a risky ménage a quatre when she begins an affair with Nick, Melissa's actor husband. Desperate to reconcile herself to the desires and vulnerabilities of her body, Frances's intellectual certainties begin to yield to something new - a painful and disorienting way of living from moment to moment. But as Frances tries to keep control, her relationships increasingly unspool: with Nick, with her difficult and unhappy father, and finally even with Bobbi. Written with rare precision and probing intelligence, Conversations with Friends is exquisitely alive to the pleasures and inhibitions of youth.

I will never understand why all these people are in Valerie’s house

Reread for the first person narration. Did not remember the retrospective narrator, which does change how I view this story, but I still just can’t stand it. Thought I would finish but at around 67% on my kindle I was like ok I’m good

Margo Koss

I will never understand why all these people are in Valerie’s house

Reread for the first person narration. Did not remember the retrospective narrator, which does change how I view this story, but I still just can’t stand it. Thought I would finish but at around 67% on my kindle I was like ok I’m good

100% Sally Rooney’s worst work. definitely grew into her writing with time because this first person one pov wasn’t working for me. It made her unlikable characters even more annoying. Like now I’m pissed off esp with the most non-commital ending ever. Every body is annoying. All of them are like trying to be the smartest in the room. None of them like each other. lowk needed frances to be a bit more miserable for a while. Eat that cake and call every contact in your phone actually.The moral of the story: dont date inside your friend group. idk. it was okay. I see the groundwork for her other novels in it. But this needed more resolution. Like we need another 50 pages atleast to solve how many loose ends are still there. Like i get open endings but like you need some resolution with an open ending or not i feel like i wasted my time.

melanie

absolutely disliked the book. it suffers from absolutely dreadful and predictable plot to painful prolonged commentaries disguised as parts of the story. even though i might agree with the author on a lot of issues since i am in a similar political demographic. i do not want to read a book that has multiple page dialogues that address a political issue the characters or the author do not really have any business talking about

Vincent Osvald

Good read kept me on my toes talking to a guy named Nick right now so it made me think about him more don’t really understand the name of the book but I did enjoy the conversation topics between the friends

Angeleeka

Kaarthik sekar 

My least favorite of the Sally Rooney books I’ve read, but still quite good. Some things that France and Bobbi do, I see reflected in myself and the women in my life, but that said, it makes the novel very low stakes. Just young adults doing things with no true consequences.

Brynn Sklar

Rec from Ella. Sally Rooney does an excellent job of writing characters I Despise yet deeply resonate with. I don’t want to passively let the world go by and only react in anger. But also fuck Nick oh my god if the devil can’t reach you he sends a man like that. 

this was my first Roony book, and in the process of reading i think i might have gotten a minor crush on her. not in a romantic way, but in a profound admiration kind of way. her writing has a quality to it, that i can best define as emphathy. the kind of emphathy that makes you pick up and feel every little touch of emotion in the room. this made the story feel alive and raw, which i loved. i also really liked that she used this story to highlight the issue of the lack of research funding for women’s health, by powerfully showcasing the consequences it has in the daily life of a woman suffering from endometriosis. with this said - then why not 5 stars? while i spent the first third of the book thinking “god this is brilliant”, something about Francis’ relationship with Nick felt predictable and in the end unresolved. but the writing has got me hooked, and I am already considering which of her books i should read next.

Cecilie Spangsberg

the way sally rooney portrays the complexity of human’s feelings will always be exceptional

Conversations with Friends A Novel

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