Author Josh Silver channels Yellowface in satirical novel examining privilege and queer identity
Josh Silver, a former actor and mental health nurse, is the author or three YA titles and his first novel for adult readers, Fruit Fly. (Supplied: Bloomsbury/Fake Trash)
After signing dozens of books and happily posing for selfies with excited fans from his sold-out Sydney Writers' Festival discussion about one of the year's buzziest books, there are two things about which I'm gagging to ask man-of-the-moment Josh Silver before he's whisked off by publicists to continue his packed tour.
One is the Zeitgeisty TV show Heated Rivalry and the other is the bestselling novel Yellowface.
When I ask him if it is derivative or reductive to compare his latest work to these stories, he grins warmly.
"Not at all," he says, adding that Yellowface was "hugely influential on my journey to writing Fruit Fly".
I'm not the only one to make the connection between his book and the raunchy TV show about same-sex ice hockey rivals-turned-lovers.
His festival event host, Maeve Marsden, introduced the book as being released "in the midst of all the chronically online discussion about who gets to have the biggest feelings about Heated Rivalry".
Silver's debut adult novel (he has previously published three young adult books) comes out at a time when queer fiction stories are exploding in print and on screen.
In 2022, the big screen saw its first major mainstream gay rom-com in Billy Eichner's film Bros.
Since then, we've seen the youth market obsess over innocent coming-of-age LGBTQIA+ show Heartstopper and women "go feral" over those queer ice hockey players.
Fruit Fly is an altogether darker affair, a psychological thriller and satire, and its protagonist, a married woman, isn't even gay. But she pretends to be a gay man just so she can write her next bestseller.
Buzz has built on both sides of the globe. It was named one of the BBC's 12 must-reads for 2026 and ABC Arts listed it in April's top reads.
Cultural appropriation or appreciation?
The book is told from the perspective of two characters, Mallory and Leo.
Mallory, an author, is suffering second-novel syndrome: seven years ago, she published a successful novel, but now has writer's block.
"Fruit Fly is a bold and occasionally muddy exploration of who gets to hold the pen, figuratively and literally," Ying-Di Yin wrote in a review for ABC Arts.
A Reddit post advises her to "go gay, go sad, go dark" to write a modern bestseller.
She uses her husband's pictures to create a Grindr profile, gets invited to a gay chemsex party, encounters Leo — a young gay addict and sex worker — and stalks him to secretly leech his story and turn it into a fat book deal.
A big theme of Fruit Fly is who has the right to tell which stories, particularly concerning minorities and traumatised people. It's a very modern dilemma: where do we draw the line between cultural appropriation and appreciation?
"We should always start from a place of creative freedom," Silver, who trained as an actor at the prestigious RADA and now lives in Manchester, tells ABC Arts.
"Straight actors should absolutely play gay characters; the same goes for straight writers depicting them.
"The line is intention."
We discuss British chef Jamie Oliver's children's book being withdrawn by Penguin Random House in late 2024 after a character drawing on Indigenous stereotypes caused offence. Also Yellowface, in which a struggling white author steals her dead, successful Asian American friend's unpublished manuscript, rewrites it and publishes it under an ambiguous pen name.
Both raise the following questions: For creatives, how should the privileged demographic represent the less powerful minority, and is it ethical for them to profit from their stories?
"When reading Yellowface, I realised how my LGBTQI community has been fetishised over the past 10 years," says Silver, who is now 36.
His first acting agent told him to stay in the closet; now, he says, being gay is "commercially viable".
And he's noticed recent fictional stories specifically about gay men aren't always written by them.
"The recent cultural shift has swung our way," he says. "Which makes me question people's motives for including us in their stories: to shine a light on things important to them? Or to capitalise on this moment?"
He recognises that a gay, nine-years sober addict writing a book from the point of view of a straight woman who is writing a book from the point of view of a gay addict is "very meta".
In this "authentic voice" era, he says, if a book hinges on a certain community's trauma, writers should at least speak to a "broad scope" of those who've experienced it.
His protagonist, Mallory, takes this to such extreme lengths, she initially seems unhinged in her creative pursuit.
But as her character development reveals something much deeper going on, readers will find their allegiances sway.
Sanitised stories
One critique of stories like Heated Rivalry is they present a sanitised version of homosexuality that, due to its commercial "spiciness", feels real to outsiders.
"I understand it appeals to women because gay male sex feels safer and less threatening to them," Silver says.
"Part of the narrative is missing, though; much that happens in my queer community is destructive, dangerous and painful: a direct repercussion of the trauma and shame we've endured."
He's talking about something specific in the gay community, which features in the book: chemsex, or parties at which gay men take drugs and have sex.
Days before our interview, the UK's Observer newspaper published a story about Silver's pre-sober experience of this taboo world.
"[It was] an intense read for my mum and friends," Silver says. "But by discussing it, I'm breaking down that taboo."
By doing so, he introduces a more layered gay character, "not just the palatable one", he says.
"There's an appetite in publishing currently for 'spice' — sexy stories.
"But from my personal experience, navigating sex and intimacy in the gay community is so complex — riddled with shame, pain, anxiety and confusion which people sometimes take copious amounts of drugs to deal with. And few writers are telling that less cosy version of our story."
The book's original title was Fag Hag, a term used to describe a woman who befriends gay men.
It has largely fallen out of fashion for being derogatory, and both the parlance and the book's title have been changed to the colloquially synonymous Fruit Fly.
So, who encouraged the title change?
"Everybody!" he says, laughing. "I was going for shock value."
Silver went to one woman in particular, Leah Brotherhead, to whom the book is dedicated, for this type of candid advice.
"She's a no-nonsense northerner I've known for 20 years," Silver says. "She'd say to me: 'Josh, no. Women wouldn't say that.'"
An Australian connection
When Silver returns to the UK, it's to resume his day job as a mental health nurse and to somehow find time to write his next book, also LGBTQIA+-themed.
He returns to Australia later in 2026 to attend the wedding of his brother, who's also gay.
"He moved here from the UK four years ago," Silver says.
"My parents have been on a journey with us. They have four boys; two straight, two gay.
"They're very accepting now."
His brother is the opposite of the damaged gay character in Fruit Fly. "It's lovely seeing him thrive and be happy and accepted down here," Silver says.
As ever, your family can always humble you. I ask if his gay brother has read Fruit Fly.
"Umm, not yet!" Silver says.
Fruit Fly is published by Oneworld.