Lara Abdel Baki | Staff Writer

You know the look. The one people give you when they see the pastel cover with a steamy kiss on it, or when you admit you just finished a romance novel on purpose. Maybe they laugh; maybe they raise an eyebrow; maybe they say something like “Oh, I didn’t think you were into those kinds of books.”

Romance novels have become a joke – mocked in bookstores, ignored on syllabi, and side-eyed in conversations about “real” literature. But here’s the shocker: romance is one of the most widely read, successful genres in the world. It explores vulnerability, intimacy, power, and desire, things most so-called “serious” literature also tries to do, except with less kissing.

I’m sure romance novel readers have heard it all, like “It’s all the same” or “It’s too cheesy” or even just the word “girly” presumably coming from a man clinging to sexist, elitist thinking. Let’s say it is too cheesy, it is all the same, and it is the same feeling everyone gets when they’re in love.

Romance does not get boring. It is explored in so many ways and written in different forms, all to convey the same feeling of warmth and passion two people feel toward each other. It’s not just about falling in love – it’s about emotional intimacy, something many of these elitist men lack, and the healing that comes with finding the one meant for you. It is not just about happily ever after, but rather how you get there.

Take The Notebook by Nicholas Sparks, arguably one of the most cliché romance novels of all time. The letters. The rain. The memory loss. It’s practically a meme at this point, and yet, it still spoke volumes among millions of people. Now put that next to The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller, a tragic and queer retelling of Greek mythology. One story is full of romantic gestures and old-school sentimentality, while the other is poetic and tragic. They could not be more different – even in the sexual nature of the relationship. And that’s the thing about romance: it isn’t a one-size-fits-all genre.

To say all romance is the same is to miss the entire point. These books convey completely different versions of love but still carry multitudes. Despite the emotional complexity and the sheer popularity of these novels, they are still not taken seriously in literature, to the point where they are addressed as a “guilty pleasure.” If literature is meant to reflect the human experience, then what is more human than love?

Ironically enough, the plot-twist here is that even the so-called literary canon can’t escape romance. The Great Gatsby is about obsession masquerading as love. Wuthering Heights? messy and dramatic love. Many of the literary works considered academically significant end in death or despair – naturally earning them a place in the academic canon. What if these novels let love survive instead of punishing women for feeling too much? Would they be considered less serious or just less tragic? What is so wrong with a genuine trusted connection or a beautiful love story with a happily ever after, and why should it end in pain so one can learn a lesson? Is learning human emotion or how to heal not the objective? This emotional payoff is more powerful than all the ambiguity in the world.

Let’s also talk about ‘smut.’ That word alone makes people flinch. Sex in books, especially when it’s unapologetically written for pleasure, is still considered taboo. Romance is the only genre that doesn’t shy away from this kind of intimacy. It gives physical desire the same treatment as emotional desire: something worthy of exploration, and not just something to glance over. It is not taboo, and it is a crucial part of a romantic relationship and another way of telling the truth about what it means to connect, to be vulnerable, and to want.

In literary fiction, we inspect every sentence and action for meaning, and we treat silence and glances as symbols of longing or pain. So why is it that when two characters finally act on that longing – physically – it suddenly becomes cheap? Sex isn’t filler; it’s part of the plot. It reveals character and power dynamics. It can be both freeing and terrifying. It’s no less “literary” than a death scene or a monologue – it’s just emotionally and physically honest.

So, maybe it’s time we take this genre seriously and to let go of the disguise it holds in literature. Let’s stop laughing at romance novels and embrace the emotions they invite. So, the next time

someone raises an eyebrow at your pastel-colored paperback, let them, because if love isn’t serious, then what is?