Sophia Curbelo/ Sun Contributor

January 31, 2025

HATER FRIDAY: Romantasy Isn’t Literature

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There’s an old expression that warns against mixing your all favorite ingredients together, because the end result won’t always be delicious. It’s possible I actually made that up; regardless, it’s an important saying to keep in mind as I weigh in on the recent explosion of “romantasy” in popular literature. In theory, these novels are a conglomerate of all the things I love —- adventure, handsome men, dragons, etc. —- yet I abhor them. (Another thing I love, using words like “abhor.”) I absolutely ABHOR romantasy novels! 

Please bear with me as I attempt to explain my potentially unpopular opinion, starting with some necessary definitions. The novel subgenre of romantic fantasy is broadly defined as books that feature romance in the context of a fantasy world. This describes about half the books I’ve ever read, so I’ll clarify that when I refer to “romantasy” in this article, I am imagining a romance plot that would be largely unchanged if you removed it from its fantasy backdrop. While these types of books are not a new phenomenon, Sarah J. Maas’s A Court of Thorns And Roses series skyrocketed the genre into popularity in 2015. Since then, these books have been festering and multiplying in a cursed corner of the Internet. If you’re chronically online in all the wrong ways, you know I am referring to “Spicy Booktok.” I shudder to even type out the phrase. The dark abyss where romantasy and Spicy Booktok practice their twisted mating ritual is what I would show the Devil if he needed assistance crafting my personal hell. 

I’ll be honest and say that I haven’t read very many of these novels I hate so much, mostly because they make me want to gauge my eyes out. But I wouldn’t be qualified to hate on the genre if I hadn’t at least given it a try. My first encounter with romantasy was through an attempt to rekindle an old spark with books. As a young reader, I devoured fantasy novels: Harry Potter, Narnia, Septimus Heap, Lord Of The Rings, Chrestomanci… I could keep listing them forever. In the whirlwind of college life, I’ve sadly fallen off my reading habit, but I often crave that feeling of getting lost in a good book. So I turned to the Internet to see what the critics were recommending, and that’s how I found myself reading Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros

Reader, I couldn’t get past Chapter 8. Is it possible to convey how incessantly this book made me weep for the future of literature? The fantasy setting is forgettable at best and overtly mimics the worlds of iconic YA series. Divergent-style quadrants split up the nation’s youth at Dragon Hogwarts — I mean, Basigath War College. They are training for the Hunger Games (or something) but our main girl Violet can’t focus on her dragon studies because the guy she hates is just soooo dreamy. Even if I could look past her hand-wavy world-building and alphabet-soup character names (Xaden Riorson?? Sounds like an anxiety medication), Yarros boasts overused clichés such as “his eyes darkened” or “my heart dropped” in every sentence. It’s obvious that details and imagery are second to the main plotline: the love triangle between Whats-Her-Name, the Nice Guy and the Buff Jerk. Repressed millennial women everywhere were swooning at Mr. Riorson’s darkened eyes, I’m sure. 

You might be thinking, “Maya, all of those old novels you love so much feature a dashing young wizard/prince/hobbit/elf, you can’t tell me that’s a coincidence.” Of course it’s not. I’m a huge romantic, and all of my first loves were men of ink and parchment. But am I wrong to think that at the ripe age of 22, it’s more appropriate to obsess over a real flesh-and-blood man? If you are my age and older and still have “book boyfriends,” I have some serious follow-up questions. 

That being said, my real issue is not that books like Fourth Wing exist and are enjoyed. Lord knows I indulge in my fair share of trashy television, and I won’t disparage anyone’s brainrot of choice. What really grinds my gears is the multitude of raving reviews these novels inspire. Spicy Booktok romantasy readers seem to think they have discovered the new Golden Age of literature (and you can hear how wrong that sentence sounds). I’ve seen fans of these books refer to themselves as “bookworms” and “obsessed with reading,” which, I’m sorry, makes me want to punch a wall. If you think fairy smut surpasses Jane Austen as romantic literature, you do not fall under the bookworm category. This is coming from a girl who won the most Accelerated Reader awards in her second grade class; I ain’t playing around. To add an amendment to my opening proverb: it doesn’t matter how good your ingredients are if you don’t know how to cook! Putting content aside, these books are certifiably bad literature. Fourth Wing reads like a mediocre YA novel, which is problematic because you do NOT want this book in the hands of your middle schooler. How can an author sleep at night after infusing such an intermediate-level piece of writing with the most absurd, explicit sex scenes? I haven’t really addressed the “spicy” factor of these books, because I think it requires a different type of article. I’ll say, though, that Fourth Wing is pretty mild compared to some other romantasy novels people praise for their “spice levels.” Look, I’m not naive. I know why people like to read ahem mature content; by no means am I hating on anyone for their enjoyment of that. But if you look me in the eye and tell me that your idea of the Great American Novel features dragon-on-dragon or girl-on-dragon or guy-on-girl-riding a dragon… I’ve only got one thing to say to you. GET OUT OF THE DAMN KITCHEN! 

Maya Blanchard is a junior in the College of Agriculture and Life Sciences. She can be reached at [email protected].