I try my best not to be self-important or high-minded about my reading habits. Romances entertain readers because we enjoy tracing the arc of a relationship and getting deep into characters’ emotions, motivations, and actions. And some of us like reading about sex. Romance isn’t necessarily the first place to turn for moral instruction. That said, pop culture is powerful and worth taking seriously for how it reflects larger culture. What romance presents as realities and fantasies reveals some truths about our collective values and desires. For many romance readers, myself included, reading about a character with whom you share similarities in finding love can be really heartening in a world that can make you feel unlovable for a million reasons. I think reading a YA romance with a fat protagonist like Dumplin’ as a teen would have had a great impact on me. I relish romances that pair messy characters struggling with mental health with a person who is steadfast and unwavering in their support. Given how multifaceted people are, you never know when you might find a sliver of reality in a romance. One of my favorite romances from last year was For the Love of April French. As a cis woman myself, April’s life as a trans woman is substantially different from mine. But the author, Penny Aimes, imbued April with coping mechanisms for the hardships in her life that worked for a time but ultimately ended up harmful. And I felt that so hard. I needed to read about April turning her ship around. My greatest hope is for any reader to easily find characters who mirror them in some way who find love, have sex if they want it, and face a bright future. I want books for everyone written with attention and care. Romance is growing more diverse, largely thanks to indie and self-publishing, but there’s always room for more. But there is a strange fact that much of what creates the fantasy in a romance novel creates problems in real life. Billionaires, aristocracy, mafia men, celebrities. They appeal because they’re exaggerated versions of assured protection from financial stress, from physical harm, from powerlessness. To indulge these fantasies is also to studiously ignore whoever the love interests stepped on during their rise to the top. And that’s where things get tricky. Even if I trust in readers to distinguish fantasy and reality, I still struggle with the fantasies that dominate the romance landscape. Billionaires shouldn’t exist! The wealth of the aristocracy in historical romance was ill-gotten, not admirable! I honestly don’t always know how to square my enjoyment for romances with problematic elements with my desire for a more just world. The best I can offer is honesty. If asked about books I like, I can freely acknowledge the shortcomings along with the merits. I can try to let these contradictions exist. Ultimately we have to see how things fit into the larger picture. Am I blaming everyone who’s ever read a billionaire romance for the disastrous results of the 2016 U.S. presidential election? Certainly not; there’s a complex web of problems in play. But we can’t pretend that what gets romanticized in fiction doesn’t have any bearing on reality. Readers can choose to engage with that thorny idea, or they can read with blinders on. Or worse. Yet I can’t stop arguing with myself. I sympathize with the viewpoint that books are relatively safe places to explore dark and taboo ideas. It’s part of why I love Flowers in the Attic. What one person finds offensive another can find genuinely cathartic. So I recognize it’s hard to draw lines. Embracing thoughtfulness, nuance, and honesty goes a long way, as does resisting the urge to defend one’s tastes against criticism. Our fantasies are simply not sacred or beyond critique. Similar forces are at play when it comes to reading romance. If a reader thinks that what they find attractive isn’t affected by outside forces, I would like to acquaint them with the concept of beauty standards. Even if a reader in their ignorance thinks it’s impossible to find, for example, a fat man hot, can they not trust an author to convincingly convey a character’s desires? What a boring way to read, insisting authors cater to narrow tastes. Plus, there’s a feedback loop in play. Romance authors and publishers are catering to a market. If the market is dictating a narrow view of who gets happy endings, the small imaginations get reinforced. It keeps everyone in a tiny box, when there’s such a big, beautiful world out there.
