Going Back in Time to Relive the Ending of an Intense High School Friendship

At a private Quaker high school in New York City, one year post-9/11, Fay and Nell have grown so close that they narrate their lives in unison, as F&N. F&N do everything together: they sip their matching caramel Frappuccinos; IM late into the night despite seeing one another all day at school and hanging out after; audition for shared roles in theater productions; speculate on peers’ queerness; and write secret fan fiction (or Faunfic, as they term it in their shared language) about a pair of boys at their school, Theo and Christopher, the nature of whose relationship remains an intriguing mystery to them. As F&N attempt to unspool what kind of intimacy exists between Theo and Christopher, they also do the same between themselves, and eventually are forced to confront how much—or how little—they know about one another.

Alternating between chapters narrated by F&N as a unit during their high school years and separate chapters from Fay and Nell fifteen years later, James Frankie Thomas’s debut novel Idlewild focuses not only on the way a seemingly inseparable pair has the potential to fracture, but also who we become by reflecting on our past selves and the friendships that shape us.

I spoke with Thomas via Zoom about uncategorizable relationships, being a theater kid, and perceptions versus reality. 

Jacqueline Alnes: I love how your novel perfectly captures so many feelings that seem specific to high school: the angst, the sometimes clumsy but earnest attempts to navigate identity, the fierce attachments that seem like they’ll never come to an end. What intrigues you about this age?

James Frankie Thomas: It’s interesting that you use the word ‘angst.’ It reminds me that one of the trade reviews of my book invoked the word ‘hormones’ when talking about my book. Obviously, as a transexual, I have a charged relationship to the word ‘hormones’ but I do feel like hormones and angst go together as go-to cliches we reach for when we talk about how teenagers experience feelings. One thing I really worked at when I was inhabiting the minds of my teen characters was I really wanted to take their emotions seriously because I don’t actually think I believe that the emotions we experience as teens are less real or less justified than the emotions we experience as adults. I say this today, when I will inject myself with hormones, which will affect my perceived reality and feelings, but I guess that’s why I’ve been thinking about the relationship between adolescence, hormones, and intensity of feeling more frequently.

I wish I could cite this, but I saw a really interesting argument on Twitter responding to someone saying that the TV show Euphoria should be set in college instead of high school. Someone responded that you could never have a show like Euphoria set in college because the very nature of high school is that you are thrown together with a lot of other random people your age for eight hours a day, every day. You can’t get away from them, you are inevitably going to have conflicts with them, and you have to see them every day in spite of your conflicts. Of course factions are going to form. You’re going to have social hierarchies, drama, sexual intrigue. That is what makes high school such a rich premise for fiction and why we all have such intense memories from high school. We were thrown together with peers at a very unformed time in our lives so maybe our impulse control isn’t the best, maybe we’re not the best versions of ourselves that we’re going to be yet, but we just have to show up every single day and see these people and live our lives surrounded by each other. In this way, high school is just the dialed up version of the rest of your life. 

JA: Fay and Nell are so attached that they almost become one entity, and refer to themselves as such: F&N. What did writing this book reveal to you about intimacy in friendships? 

JFT: Intimacy in friendships really is the prime subject of this novel, but I didn’t consciously know this for a long time. I’m most interested in relationships that don’t fall into easily identifiable categories. When I look at the book now, every single relationship is one that cannot be neatly defined. Obviously you have Fay and Nell, or F&N, who are not a couple, but they’re also not-not a couple. You have that mirrored in Theo and Christopher—like who knows what their deal is. You have the intense, magnetic draw between Fay and Theo, but it would not be accurate to say that there’s sexual or romantic tension between them. I mean, there kind of is, but neither of them is thinking of it that way, and that’s not the solution to what’s going on between the two of them. 

I think the only question that I find interesting enough to sustain for an entire novel is: What is the deal with the relationship between these two people? I think I’m exploring that in many, many different directions. I just love uncategorizable relationships.

JA: There is so much challenge wrestling with identity at that age and also in adulthood, maybe just all the time being like: Who am I? What am I? What is this relationship? What am I doing? How much of that comes from the language we have or don’t have to talk about relationships? 

JFT: It’s interesting you bring that up. Again, to bring up the trade reviews, the word ‘identity’ comes up a lot and even the phrase ‘wrestling with identity.’ Maybe you could push back on this, but I actually feel like my characters do not spend that much time wrestling with their identity. That might be something that readers project onto the book because they recognize that there is identity happening here, especially with the character Fay. I don’t think Fay actually spends that much time on the page wrestling with identity. She wrestles with a lot of things, like physically wrestling for a lot of the book. I wonder if, when we say these teen characters are wrestling with identity, what we are actually saying is that we have more vocabulary for identity now and this lack, as you put it, this lack of labels and categories for identities is so apparent on the page. Maybe that’s what’s actually happening, is this lack of wrestling because there’s just not enough words to grapple with.

JA: Maybe ‘wrestling’ is too violent of a word. I’m thinking of the scene where Fay says, “I left the Meetinghouse Loft, or rather my body did, a body from which I found myself vertiginously untethered.” She’s very self-assured and knows herself in so many ways, but the moments of violence in the book are the only ones where it seems like she is in her body, experiencing herself fully.

JFT: I always try really hard to be in my characters’ bodies and experience what my characters are experiencing. With Fay it’s a little tricky because I think I, as the author, am more in her body than she is. 

JA: This book made me think so much about growth and how much pressure we put on people to navigate life stages in a uniform way. I tell my students all the time how wild I think it is that people are expected to pick a college when they’re seventeen and know then what they want to major in or “be.” Nell views college with hope for who she might be where Fay struggles to see a future for herself. Do you think these pressures to make choices at certain points in our life make organic growth difficult in that it’s difficult to veer from what’s seen as the norm?

JFT: This is such a great point you bring up, and there are different levels to my answer. On the most surface level, I cannot possibly agree with you more—it’s so unconscionably stupid that we expect seventeen-year-olds to commit to a life path. It actually took me several drafts to decide on a life path for Fay and Nell. I think I changed Nell’s college major like seven times. It’s so random, it’s so arbitrary. On one level, when Fay is unable to visualize a future for herself, she’s partly just very rationally reacting to the insanity of that. 

That was not precisely autobiographical for me because I was constantly fantasizing about my future but I, like Fay, was resistant to the college application process. One thing I took from myself when I was writing this storyline for Fay is the way I thought about my future was just a different side of the coin: I was purely fantasizing. There was no realistic planning. I thought a lot about being a celebrity, being interviewed, being on Broadway. These are not actual career plans. You could take steps to make this happen. You could go to acting school but I didn’t want to go to acting school. I didn’t even want to go to auditions. I just wanted these things to happen to me; I still do. Fay does not have this fantasy life to distract her from the fact that she has trouble envisioning a future for herself but I think what we have in common is not actually being in the moment, not wanting to exist right now as a person going to school, surrounded by peers, making day to day decisions about the kind of person you want to be and becoming the kind of person that you’re growing up into. Fay and I were both highly resistant to the path that life had put us on.

I don’t think this is necessarily a trans thing, because I’m sure there are many trans people out there who were very excited to go to college and very excited to choose a major. Lest I overgeneralize here, all I can say is that’s how I reacted to the idea of going to college at the age of seventeen and it’s how Fay reacts too. I do highly recommend going to college in your late twenties, which is what I did. It’s so much better to go to college when you have experienced the workforce and you can just experience the pleasure of being asked to read all day. I appreciated every second of it. 

JA: Can we talk about the theater aspect of this novel? I’m not a theater kid, but something that I found interesting is the way these characters read their characters and have a grasp of who they are. They say: this is what I’m bringing to the character, this is what I’m doing. I wonder if you could talk a little bit about the relationship between this ability to perform and this ability also to feel at home in yourself.

JFT: I’m amazed you’re not a theater person because that’s such a well-observed observation. A passage early on that I’ve always been kind of proud of is when the cast is having their first read-through of Othello and before they do the read-through, the drama teacher has the leads go around and describe their characters. I don’t make a big deal of it, but if you look at what all of the characters are saying, they are actually describing themselves. I don’t even know if I did this intentionally, but when it’s Fay’s turn, she says that the main thing about Iago is that he’s a gay man but he’s not allowed to be one. 

One thing I love about high school theater is it’s so rare that high schoolers are allowed to express a big emotion in front of everybody. I fell in love with high school theater when I was in the ninth grade and I was not in the fall play, I was only an audience member. I went to the high school production of The Winter’s Tale. The boy playing King Leontes, when he finds out his wife wasn’t cheating on him and he had her executed for no reason, just broke down crying, like tears streaming down his face. A boy crying, in front of everybody, in front of teachers, classmates, everybody, just letting loose on stage. It’s possible he was not actually giving a good performance, he might have been hamming it up too much, but it was incredible for ninth grade me to see. And also, all the other cast members behind him were crying too. I found out later that a lot of them were doing the Burt’s Bees trick. It just rocked my world to see my classmates crying in front of everybody. I went back and saw the play again the next night.

When you’re in high school, the most impressive thing is that bravery, that emotional courage to just show your deep feelings. When you are an adult and acting professionally, that’s not the most important thing about being an actor, and I think when we see bad actors as adults is that they are hamming it up too much or showing too many feelings, rather than realistically showing how a character might try to hold back their feelings. But in high school, that doesn’t matter. It’s about having the courage to put it all out there. 

JA: When you were talking about uncategorizable relationships, I couldn’t help but think of friendship breakups, and how I don’t think we talk enough about what happens at the end of things when it’s not a romantic relationship. I wondered what you learned from writing the end of this friendship, like this grieving of a person who’s still very much alive, still out there living their life, but without you.

JFT: I can’t remember when he said this, but I think it was my friend Danny Lavery who said once that it’s become almost a platitude that we never talk about friend breakups. People are always saying, “We never talk about friend breakups, we have no books about them, we have no vocabulary to talk about them.” And he said, is it possible that we’ve said this so much that it’s no longer true? Can we talk about friend breakups without saying we never talk about friend breakups?

JA: True.

JFT: That said, it is still very interesting to me. I’ve actually been hearing a lot from readers who reach out to me and say that this book made them think about their best friend from high school. It surprised me, because I didn’t set out to depict what I thought was a universal type of relationship. I thought that Fay and Nell were an unusual enough relationship that I could spend a whole novel exploring them. I guess it is more common than I thought, especially for queer people, to have one intense friendship during adolescence that eventually falls apart or ends in a weird way. I did sort of get at something that doesn’t get talked about very much.

I want to quote a friend of mine who also said she was reminded of a former, intense friendship while reading my book. She said she was reminded how, just like Fay and Nell, she and her friend were just in constant communication, all day long, that she wonders now what did we talk about? They were talking on the phone, IMing, seeing each other at school, and she wonders: What were we even doing? We didn’t have memes to text to each other or links to send to each other. What in the world could we have found to occupy all those hours of talk? 

This is the interesting thing that she said, which is: I think we were just using each other as a kind of repository for whatever random thought came into our head. We would dislodge random thoughts by telling them to each other. In retrospect, this was a very selfish form of intimacy because we weren’t really hearing each other, we were just using each other as a sounding board. She said, I think this is why the friendship didn’t last, because once the circumstances changed and once things got difficult or there was conflict between us, there was actually no intimacy to draw on. We had been talking at each other for several years, and we didn’t truly know each other. We didn’t have a deep emotional understanding of each other. I love that my friend observed that, because I think it’s one of the takeaways of Idlewild, it’s something that both Fay and Nell are grappling with at the end: Did we ever really know each other? 

JA: Something that’s been coming up throughout our conversation is what we impose on something rather than what’s actually there. I don’t know if it’s the age of the characters or that it’s this heightened era, but I think there’s something where you get to bring a part of yourself to this friendship, the same way that these characters see past each other. 

JFT: I actually love that you say that. The novel is about projections, and projecting onto people what you want to see in them or what you want to feel in yourself and I never do resolve the question of how much we know about them is a projection and how much is real.