My Abhorrence for The current state of romantasy & romance as a genre.
A bit of a controversial title really, kind of rage bait-ish but I stand by it. This is my substack after all I can do what I want. Ha. Now that being said, I think most people would preface a piece like this by saying that they are not trying to be judgemental and that people can read whatever they like and I do agree. People can absolutely read whatever they like, please do, life is too short to spend on books that you don’t like. However, I think it’s time we bring back some judgement, some criticism and maybe some shame. I think we could all do with a healthy dose of that especially when it comes to this current phenomenon and booktok craze of romantasy/romance. I have thoughts, feelings and some concerns.
Now, it seems to me that every romantasy or even contemporary romance book out there in the literary world at this moment has the same characters, the same storyline and even nowadays, the same covers. Case in point.
The story usually goes like this: the princess, the poor girl, small town girl, the tiny but so strong girl who is not like everyone else, who has powers she never even dreamed of, the smart but sexy one, she must save the village, nay the world, is the only one in a thousand years to have this power, she is shy but hot and she needs dance lessons. I could poke out my eyes.
Then we have the love interest: the shadow daddy (wow.. I do not like saying that much less typing it out), the captain of the guard, the billionaire mafia CEO, motorbiking person, the cowboy, the hockey player, dark and broody, or blond and like a viking or some fae prince, vampire lord, werewolf extraordinaire, king of hell, angel/demon hybrid man and so on, someone please save me.
And together: they are fated mates, enemies to lovers, there is tension, SEX, they are bound together on a journey, they must not succumb to their feelings, they are on opposite sides, they are academic rivals, there is a love triangle, he is red flag but she is the exception, they hate each other but can’t stop staring at each other and he would burn the world down if someone hurt her …. I may vomit.
I would like to put a caveat in here and say I do read romance. I love love. I love a love story. I love fantasy with romance in it, but I love it when it is done well. When characters are nuanced and fleshed out. When fantasy worlds are full and alive on their now, not just the backdrop to person A and person B getting it on. Do not get me wrong, I love a good love scene, but when it is well timed. If we are out here fighting for our lives and the main couple are getting it on in a tent somewhere when they are supposed to be the hero and the heroine, absolutely not. Yes, reading sometimes requires the suspension of disbelief but not that much.
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What these books and this genre in particular have shown us is that reading truly is an intersectional thing. They show us terrible gender stereotypes, the lack of representation, the lack of race and queer people in fiction, the deification of certain body types and aesthetics, the confusion between romance, eroticism and pornography, the lack of critical thinking and analysis skills, what actually makes a good novel, the almost infantilisation of romance as a genre. Trust me we will get to all of these in some way, shape or form. But for now this is more of a general overview of my strong dislike of this genre and the questions I have for people who read and write it.
One of the main issues (among that many that I have) with this genre is firstly that these authors don’t make me believe it. How do I believe in their love story if I have read a dozen more just like it. If their characters are exactly the same as some other stories, how am I supposed to believe that this love story is new? When it sounds like that one story I read that one time by this other author? As someone who is incapable of living in the shallows, yes to me, it is that deep. The whole point of any story, whether romance or not, is that you need to make me believe in the characters as individuals. If I don’t even believe in them and I can’t take them seriously then why on earth am I here?
I will admit that I am cynical and judgemental by nature. I think it is one of my best qualities. Ha. So when I read a romance, you are going to have to make me believe it. You want me to believe in love at first sight, you write it out well, you don’t just slap down a fated mates, soul mate connection and expect me to buy it. I don’t. You want me to believe they are enemies to lovers, you make them actual enemies into lovers. Not just antagonist to lovers or some gentle dislike to lovers. If they are enemies, make them enemies. Make them twist and turn and fight their way to love. Where is the accountability? We shall not just hate-fuck our way into love. No sir. Because even hate-fucking has consequences of the heart we must deal with. Don’t tell me they are meant to be, like Romeo and Juliet, and expect me to believe it just like that? I won’t. And don’t tell me, show me.
Another thing that really just irritates my asshole (you have my friend to thank for this saying) is when people say that they read romance to switch their brains off but I actually find that quite insulting. The idea that people think that reading romance or any story with romantic elements requires the use of zero brain cells feels offensive. It has shades of using the term “chick lit” to describe any kind of book that appeals to women more than men. When statistically speaking, more women read fiction compared to men so technically that makes all fiction books “chick lit” so ha, suck on that. But my point is that romance begins in the brain and is all about the brain my friends. Intelligence is sexy and intimacy of any kind requires careful thinking. Romance is not just sex, lust and gyrating hips and the problem is that we as a society have decided to just mash erotica, romance and pornography into one whole literary soup, when they mean completely different things. I should beat you over the head with a dictionary. So let’s get into some definitions shall we.
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Marriam Webster defines erotica as “literary or artistic works having an erotic theme or quality”. Erotic meaning “of devoted to, or tending to arouse sexual love or desire.”. Romance being defined as “a feeling of being in love, a medieval tale based on legend, chivalric love, en emotional attraction, the romance languages”. We can also include the word pornography if we want to considering how some of these books nowadays are just full of sex. Again, not a prude just making an observation. Sex for sex sake, or spice for spice sake in the parlance of these romantasy girlies, does nothing for a story and sometimes these scenes are so jarring that it takes away from the story altogether. And sometimes there is something even more tasteful about a fade to black moment because then the imagination can take over and the imagination is a sexy sexy thing.
Is it any wonder why stories like The Other Bennett Sister (talking about both the show and the book) have started to amass such an audience? Was there even a hint of sex in the story. No. Not even a whiff. In fact she drooled over his forearms, which honestly, same girl I get it. But there was no spice, there was not a six pack ab to be seen and not even a hint of a thigh much less an ankle. What it did have was conversations of poetry and birds, aspirations and hobbies and it was still an utterly wonderful love story. But the point was the love was not the only story. It was the story within the story. It was the icing on the cake.
And in this story, Ms. Mary Bennett does not end up with the most eligible bachelor (spoiler alert) the quote unquote ideal man, she ends up with a very lovely working class barrister. He isn’t some 7 foot he-man and neither is she a 5 foot skinny mini. He wears glasses, cannot draw and can recite poetry from memory. She wears glasses and reads about geology for pleasure. But the point of the story is not that they end up together nor is it that she choses marriage in the end. The point of this story is that she learns who she is apart from her family. She learns who she is in society, that her mind is wonderful thing and that she has a charm all her own. She grows into herself and falling in love with a man who delights in her mind more than he delights in her body is only one aspect of that. He does not ravish her in his gothic palace or fae household or what have you. There is in fact no ravishing to be had.
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We probably don’t like to say it, but I think some of us are fatigued by all of these similar stories. All the nothing burger characters and semi coherent plot lines. Tired of the endless amounts of sex because seriously if they start having sex from page 20, I am out of there. We are starting to crave the variety. Give me the lady villains and the weak spindly knights. Give me large and in charge women and the men who love them for it because she is all woman (yum). Talk to me about not being the chosen one but having to get on with it anyway because no one else will and the tired run down friend who is with you every step of the way. Where are the main characters who are cowards, who feel the fear we would feel when facing down some undead army? Maybe the love interest is a scribe. what is so wrong about that? scribes need love too. Do they always need to be a shadow father? No. But then it shatters the illusion doesn’t it. It shatters the fantasy of some hot hunky man coming to save you from this cruel and heartless world. I would rather save myself thank you very much. But a broke man does not a hero make.
So for now, this is where I will leave you. But we will talk more about what romance and romantasy is doing to us as a society in other essays don’t you worry. This will not be a one time thing. But for now, here are a few books with romance that I think are done well. Eat up my loves.
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The Saint of Steel Series by T Kingfisher:Everything about this series is delightful. The world is fascinating. The main plot line that carries through all the books is very interesting. The knights are hilarious. Every character is nuanced and they actually deal with their shit because they are grown ups. There are knights who knit. Women who turn into bears. Lady spies and doctors who prefer the dead to the living. To me this is fantasy romance done right. chefs kiss.
The Second Death of Locke by VL Bovalino: She is a lady knight, he is her mage. Childhood besties. tension and war and learning who you are apart from one another. Magic and revelations and dealing with consequences of your decisions and again SHE is the knight need I say more. I love me a lady knight. Growing up reading Tamora Pierce has done that to me.
The Ornithologist’s Field Guide to Love by India Holton: it is a cozy fantasy about going on the hunt for magical birds. there are hilarious side characters. The use umbrella’s to fly and the man is utterly enamoured with her gigantic brain. Need I say more?
Wild Dark Shore by Charlotte McConaghy:This is if you want love with a little more grit. The kind of love that leaves dirt under your fingernails. it is dark and difficult. There is no fantasy here but it is an honest, desperate, ferocious kind of love with a little thriller on the side.
