Stuck in a situationship? Read Sally Rooney’s Conversations with Friends

The affair

Alison Oliver and Joe Alwyn in a still from Conversations with Friends.

As the story moves forward, Frances and Nick have an affair, later complicated by the revelation that Melissa has had her own experience of extramarital involvement. And yet Nick remains with her, apparently because he is (as he describes himself) a “submissive” man who, as I read him, wants everything while emerging as the innocent party. Major red flag, isn’t he? Though their relationship is not the only driving force of the plot, Frances’s own insecurities lead her to place Bobbi and Melissa on a higher social pedestal than herself, ultimately straining her individual relationships with both. Further, the knowledge that Nick will not leave Melissa, even as his relationship with Frances evolves from attraction to love, and his claim to love them both, ignites envy in Frances, running parallel to a growing friendship between Melissa and Bobbi.

While these crisscrossing relationships deepen as the story progresses, they never escape the shackles of miscommunication, uncertainty, and the social obligation of pretending to like someone you are merely associated with, as evident in the dynamic between Melissa and Frances.

Embracing the flaws

None of these characters is perfect, and that is precisely what makes them so human. They all need therapy, especially Frances, who grapples with body image insecurity, a broader lack of self-worth, a strained relationship with her divorced parents, and a highly alcoholic father to top it all off. Nick is next in line for urgent self-reflection, with his emotional unavailability, commitment issues, and what reads as possible depression.

One genuine strength of the book is that Rooney wastes no ink on descriptive padding (landscapes, weather, scenery) and keeps the focus squarely on her people. As for why I called this a “big book of complicated nothing”: it is not a comment on length (it’s a short novel) but on its genre. Books that deal with mundanity and complicated human nature require patience; their beauty lies in simplicity, yet their core demands to be understood. Writing about situations where something is clearly wrong but nothing can be done about it is far harder than writing a sorted hero falling for a cheeky girl. Rooney has captured with real precision the pain of a relationship that is wrong from every angle and arguably should not exist. These characters are not green flags, nor are they effortlessly beautiful. They are simply humans, with human emotions and human insecurities.

Another strength of Rooney’s writing is that she never presents emotional realisation as sudden epiphany. Instead, she walks readers slowly through feeling, making them reflect on their own daily emotional lives at a deeper level. To appreciate this kind of writing, the reader first needs to accept that love, emotion, and relationships are not as simple as they appear. Only then will the book yield its full effect.

This novel is the prime example of the heart wants what it wants, and I highly recommend it to anyone who has ever found themselves stuck in a situationship.

(As I See It  is a space for bookish reflection, part personal essay and part love letter to the written word. Views expressed are personal.)