Hi friends,

I consider myself a reasonably smart person, but some might say I'm not the brightest spark. Why, you might ask? Well, here I am, talking about romantasy again.

I know, I know. I'm never beating the masochism allegations. But the truth is that if I'm wading back into a topic that hasn't historically treated me very well, it's less about suffering and more about the pleasure I get from understanding how things work. Books themselves, of course, but also the ecosystems around them.

Romantasy, for better or worse, is its own fascinating ecosystem. In my admittedly anecdotal experience, people don't tend to respond to it mildly, and that intensity only gets amplified by the algorithms and platforms where these conversations usually unfold. 

Operating in those extremes often also means that criticism is treated like sacrilege or sport, and defense, in turn, is devotion or theater. The problem, as I see it, is that romantasy's impact has outpaced its critical vocabulary. And the additional problem, and the reason we are back here once again, is that the people who tend to start these conversations are often doing it in bad faith, or at least, feel extra comfortable using rage as bait. 

So sue me if I find this all genuinely compelling, though I'm self-aware enough to admit that my interest is very moth to a flame. Why do these books inspire such devotion? Why does the genre feel perpetually on the defensive, even when it's dominating bestseller lists and printing special editions at rates never before seen? And, on the other side, why is romantasy such ripe ground for outsiders to swoop in with disdain, ready to diagnose the entire subgenre with heaps of elitism?

As a romantasy reader who leans mostly critical of the subgenre, let me say that all of this puts us in a bizarre double-bind where insiders bristle at any attempt to interrogate the genre's patterns, and outsiders refuse to see anything worth interrogating at all. Both stances are flattening in their own ways, and both make it harder to get to the more interesting questions about what romantasy actually is.

A few months ago, I made a video launching a project to crowdsource the idea for a romantasy novel. It was meant to be collaborative and playful, born from the creative line-casting prolonged unemployment tends to provoke in me. The premise was simple: each episode, I'd present my community with one major story decision, you'd submit ideas, and we'd all vote on them together. By the end of that process, we'd have collectively sketched the blueprint of a romantasy novel. 

In my announcement video, I also said that the idea would perhaps then lend itself to me actually writing the book. Maybe. I was realistic about the limitations of my own skills and really wanted to focus on what the project could be: an opportunity to piece by piece explore the formula that defines the biggest names in romantasy. 

And, yes, I did make it explicitly clear that I wasn't talking about all romantasy. I was talking about the subset of books that, fairly or not, function as shorthand for the genre. That was the terrain I wanted to map.

For the most part, people got it. I received a lot of support, and people generally understood the spirit of the project. But there was also a vocal minority who reacted as though I'd announced that I personally was going to murder the genre. Accusations of exploitation, ignorance, copyright infringement, cruelty, hubris, mental illness—I mean, pick a flavor. I got a sampler pack. Though if I had to pick a least favorite, I'd say it was the seemingly well-intentioned comments begging me not to take up space (with a book I hadn't written) when that space could go to them (typically, a white woman who deserved it more than me). 

I'm thinking about this reaction (again) (one day, I will be over it) because my TikTok was taken over yesterday by stitches of an author who made a video that was part book recommendation and part sweeping indictment of romantasy readership. All of it. She started that video by saying that "romantasy girlies" were "not the brightest spark." She then framed the subgenre as conservative propaganda for straight women with a patriarchy kink, and interestingly positioned What Fury Brings by Tricia Levenseller as the thinking woman's romantasy. (I haven't read this book, but my good friend Rachel has an in-depth review of it.) 

The "brightest spark" video has since been deleted, and an apology issued. Do I think this author should've implied all romantasy readers are stupid? No, of course not. Do I have any interest in piling on her or belaboring that point? Also no. 

I'm here to say the controversial thing: the underlying points this author clumsily gestured at are not entirely invented. 

Now, I understand why that is being drowned out. Once you've insulted people's intelligence, any point you might have had becomes collateral damage. I also think that the nature of social media these days means you have to do everything in your power to clarify that you mean not everyone, ever. Not all romantasy, etc. 

But it's the conversation that this has inspired that is actually what I want to focus on, because defense against this video has evolved into blanket defense of romantasy.

Primarily, I think we should acknowledge that many of the best-selling and most influential books in this subgenre absolutely lean right of center. They are fantasies that are playing in the sandbox of patriarchy, gender essentialism, and traditional gender roles. They cling to monarchies and romanticize rigid hierarchies. They love a power imbalance dressed up as fate. Internalized misogyny is baked into a lot of the patterns, including the sidelining or outright maligning of other women. They are very often racist or take great delight in playing in the fantasies of violent, vaguely brown men sallying forth to save white women. 

None of that means every romantasy book is conservative, or that every reader is secretly fantasizing about benevolent authoritarian husbands. But if you zoom out and look at the patterns, you do start to see a shape which simply cannot be purely accidental. At some point, we have to consider that this conservative propaganda draped lightly in feminist aesthetics ("but she has a one of a kind power!") ("maybe even a sword!") is a feature and not a bug. 

What complicates this further is that many romantasy readers have spent the last few years telling us, in so many words, that they read these books with their brains off. I'm not putting any words in anyone's mouth here. I have been told, directly and repeatedly, by not all but much of this readership that not thinking is the point. That it's less fun to think about what you are reading. That they want an escape, and definitely not any politics in their books. They actively resent the implication that their favorite series might be saying something about the world, intentionally or unintentionally. 

This positioning is a trap. You can't brain off for some criticism, and then insist that actually romantasy is serious and should be taken seriously for other criticism. You can't insist something is apolitical fluff and also demand it be treated as worthy of universal esteem. Or, I mean, you can, but the whiplash is noticeable. And it makes it nearly impossible to have the kind of nuanced conversation that so many people claim to want.

And I think it's precisely the gap between what the genre is, what the most successful examples have taught people to expect, and what the vocal majority of readers insist the genre should be that keeps tripping everyone up.

I think that part of that confusion stems from the fact that romantasy didn't start as a publishing category, but rather as a reader tag. And because publishing has essentially been reacting to something community-defined, we have a category that is more vibes and clusters of tropes and aesthetics than it is well-defined genre. (And if I'm going to say any truly harsh thing about the subgenre, I'll say it here: it can often feel rather incoherent. You truly have to look no further than the conversation about Alchemised to see that, because what do you mean a book that is driven by romance, ends in a happily ever after, that would not survive intact without the romance, and that is categorized by the publisher as a romance, isn't a romantasy?) 

Back in October, I attended New York Comic Con. And because incurable curiosity is my brand, I sat through a romantasy panel while I was there. One of the opening questions asked the panelists to define romantasy. The room erupted in applause when one of the authors implied that romantasy is simply fantasy but written by women—a neat little soundbite that entirely sidestepped decades and decades of women writing fantasy and shelved accordingly. 

From there, the panelists launched into an earnest defense of their right to be taken seriously as women writing fantasy, only to immediately undermine themselves when a worldbuilding question came up. One author shrugged and admitted she doesn't like worldbuilding, mostly doesn't do it, and "it's worked for me so far," while the room laughed in recognition. The conversation then moved on to tropes. 

I'm not saying you can't enjoy these books. Truly, read whatever delights you. Escapism is valuable. Comfort is valuable. But "comfort" and "uncritical consumption" are not synonyms, and somewhere along the line they got flattened into one.

Romantasy isn't the only place this is happening, but neither is it exempt from that. In fact, its very popularity means it's especially worth looking at. When a subgenre becomes this dominant, this algorithmically upheld, this commercially viable, and this passionately defended, the magnifying glasses should be getting stronger. Romantasy, for better or worse, is shaping taste. It's an incredibly large entryway into reading and reading communities. It's teaching readers what romance looks like and what fantasy should prioritize. These are not small things.

But any attempt to point this out gets met with either "let people enjoy things" (which is not an argument) or "you're calling us stupid" (which I am very much not)(that one author did, though, so I hear you), or "why are you overthinking it" (a question that always makes me want to die a little inside). 

Misogyny is absolutely at play here, but not always in the way people say it is. Yes, romance genres are demeaned. Yes, publishing systematically undervalues work by women, especially in genre fiction. Yes, women are punished for consuming or participating in what brings them joy. And, yes, that joy is often trivialized or even insulted. All of this is true.

But it's not misogyny to notice that many of these books are conservative in their worldview. It's not misogyny to hold their craft, structure, or messaging up to the light. If anything, it's a form of engagement that assumes women are capable of media literacy. I think there is no greater respect for a genre than to consider it worthy of thought and examination, and no greater estimation of its readers than to believe them capable of participating in said examination.

And that's why, despite everything, I keep circling back to romantasy. I'm convinced it's telling us something about our cultural and political moment. I think it's important to consider, as communities and authors and readers, how the spaces we want to occupy are being talked about and represented. It's not all romantasy, but it's curious that this keeps happening to romantasy. 

I think that conversation is worth having, even if every time we try, the whole room catches fire.

❤️

Marines

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