Symbols Now Is Not the Time to Panic Kevin Wilson

'The Edge Is a Shantytown Filled with Gold Seekers and Fugitives': Symbol Analysis

What the Phrase Isn't (and Is) in Now Is Not the Time to Panic

The phrase that anchors Kevin Wilson's 2022 novel Now Is Not the Time to Panic is deceptively simple: the edge is a shantytown filled with gold seekers. We are fugitives, and the law is skinny with hunger for us. It's a line that sixteen-year-old Frankie Budge writes during the summer of 1996, in a garage in Coalfield, Tennessee, while she and Zeke, a new boy in town, are trying to make art together. The words emerge from Frankie's in-progress novel about a girl criminal mastermind named Evie Fastabend, who calls her hideout 'the edge.' Frankie describes the words as coming from a voice inside her that she recognizes as her own — not divine, not borrowed, but hers alone. She immediately knows it's the greatest thing she's ever written.

Zeke contributes the visual half of the collaboration: hands hovering over children, never quite touching them. Together they print hundreds of copies of the poster and plaster them across Coalfield. The phrase and image become the 'Coalfield Panic of 1996,' a cultural phenomenon that eventually outgrows its creators entirely.

The Phrase as Private Code

Almost immediately after Frankie writes the line, she and Zeke begin repeating it together. They crouch on the garage floor and say the phrase again and again until it becomes a code — a code for everything they'd ever want, a way to recognize each other decades later. This is the phrase's first transformation: from a creative accident to a shared secret language.

The code quality persists throughout the novel. In the opening chapter, when art critic Mazzy Brower recites the first half over the phone, Frances completes it 'in harmony,' and the shared knowledge immediately establishes that Mazzy has found the right person. The phrase functions as a password, a proof of belonging that bypasses rational thought.

The Phrase as Mantra and Comfort

The phrase's second transformation comes when it becomes a tool for emotional regulation. In Chapter 12, after Zeke has a violent confrontation with his father in Memphis and then pushes Frankie physically further than she wants to go, she uses the phrase to calm him down. She repeats it ten times, twenty times, until Zeke stops crying and makes eye contact. She thinks that as long as she keeps saying the phrase, nothing will change — Zeke won't leave, won't hurt her, won't hurt himself. The phrase becomes an incantation, a way to hold the world still.

This is also where the phrase's meaning shifts from something joyful (a creative discovery) to something protective (a shield against chaos). Frankie's internal repetition — 'I'm saying it right now. I've never stopped saying it' — suggests the phrase has become a permanent part of her inner life, a tether to that summer.

The Phrase as Cultural Phenomenon

The novel traces how the phrase escapes Frankie and Zeke's control. By Chapter 11, the posters have spread beyond Coalfield. The phrase gets misquoted ('we are the New Fugitives'), imitated, and commodified. The novel catalogs a dizzying array of cultural artifacts: a TV movie, a concept album, clothing lines, emo bands named after the phrase, a fried chicken restaurant called 'Skinny with Hunger,' even a political revolution in Eastern Europe where protesters shout 'We are fugitives.'

This section emphasizes the gap between what Frankie and Zeke made and what the world turned it into. Frankie is furious when the phrase is misquoted; Zeke is relieved, because the imitations provide cover. The phrase's meaning becomes diffuse, public, and no longer theirs. It's a powerful illustration of the unintended consequences of creative expression.

The Phrase as Lullaby and Legacy

The final transformation comes in Chapter 17, when Junie reveals that Frankie has been whispering the phrase to her as a lullaby. This is a striking detail: the same words that once represented teenage rebellion and creative freedom have become a bedtime comfort for a seven-year-old. The phrase has come full circle — from a private code between two teenagers to a private code between a mother and daughter.

In the same chapter, Frankie repeats the phrase to herself again and again, unchanged, lying in bed looking at glow-in-the-dark stars. The phrase remains constant even as everything around it changes. This connects to the theme of the persistence of memory — the phrase is a vessel that carries the summer of 1996 forward into Frankie's adult life.

Character and Theme Connections

The phrase is inseparable from Frankie and Zeke. For Frankie, it's the proof that she was once capable of creating something extraordinary; for Zeke, it's a reminder of a collaboration that defined his adolescence. When they reunite as adults (Zeke now going by Ben), they say the phrase together, and he teaches her to draw the poster's image so she can pass it off as her own work — a final act of collaborative creation.

The phrase also connects to several major themes:

Study Questions

1. How does the phrase's meaning shift from Frankie's initial writing of it to its use as a lullaby for Junie?

When Frankie first writes the phrase, it's a creative discovery — something that 'meant nothing' but felt perfect. It becomes a code between her and Zeke, then a mantra for emotional regulation, then a public cultural artifact, and finally a private lullaby. The lullaby usage is particularly significant because it transforms the phrase from a symbol of teenage rebellion into a symbol of maternal care and continuity. The phrase's journey mirrors Frankie's own arc from rebellious teenager to settled adult.

2. Why does Frankie complete the phrase when Mazzy recites it in the opening chapter, even though she's trying to avoid being identified?

The completion is almost involuntary — Frankie says they complete it 'in harmony.' The phrase is so deeply embedded in her that she can't help but finish it. This demonstrates how the phrase has become part of her identity, even as she's tried to move past the summer of 1996. It also shows that the phrase retains its power as a code: hearing it triggers an automatic response.

3. What does the phrase's spread beyond Coalfield reveal about the relationship between art and audience?

The novel shows that once art enters the world, it no longer belongs to its creators. The phrase gets misquoted, imitated, and commodified in ways Frankie finds infuriating. Zeke, by contrast, welcomes the misattributions because they provide cover. The novel suggests that the meaning of art is constantly being rewritten by its audience, and that creators have limited control over how their work is received.

4. How does the phrase function differently for Frankie and Zeke over time?

For Frankie, the phrase becomes a permanent part of her inner life — she says she's never stopped saying it. For Zeke, it becomes something he asks her not to say (in Chapter 10, he says 'Please don't say the line. Just not right now'). When they reunite as adults, they say it together, suggesting it still connects them, but their relationships to it have diverged. Frankie has internalized the phrase; Zeke has tried to distance himself from it.

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