Dangerous Books For Girls: The Bad Reputation of Romance Novels Explained

by Maya Rodale

Long before clinch covers and bodice rippers, romance novels have had a bad reputation as the lowbrow lit of desperate housewives and hopeless spinsters. But in fact, romance novels—the escape and entertainment of choice for millions of women—might prove to be the most revolutionary writing ever produced.

Dangerous Books for Girls examines the origins of the genre’s bad reputation—from the “damned mob of scribbling women” in the nineteenth century to the sexy mass-market paperbacks of the twentieth century—and shows how these books have inspired and empowered generations of women to dream big, refuse to settle, and believe they’re worth it.

For every woman who has ever hidden the cover of a romance—and for every woman who has been curious about those “Fabio books”—Dangerous Books For Girls shows why there’s no room for guilt when reading for pleasure.

Genres: Nonfiction, Romance, Feminism, Books About Books, History, Writing, Literary Criticism

262 pages, Kindle Edition

First published December 4, 2011

About the author

Maya Rodale is the best-selling and award-winning author of funny, feminist fiction including historical romance, YA and historical fiction. A champion of the romance genre and its readers, she is also the author of Dangerous Books For Girls: The Bad Reputation of Romance Novels, Explained. Maya reviews romance for NPR and has appeared in Bustle, Glamour, Shondaland, Buzzfeed, The Huffington Post and PBS. She began reading romance novels in college at her mother’s insistence and has never been allowed to forget it.

Sign up for her newsletter at www.mayarodale.com/newsletter

Reviews

[Julie · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm probably going to be mired in a lot of series by male authors this year, so I'm consciously trying to intersperse each male author read with a female one. This book was a nice breath of fresh air, though: nonfiction but written in an accessible, blog post-esque style, and addressing a topic that doesn't get much coverage.

Rodale has definitely succeeded in increasing my respect for romance novels, and made me want to go read more of them. If anyone has any recs for their fave romances, pls give them to me!

Her points are a little repetitive sometimes, and some typos got on my nerves because they also made the book sound less academic -- but the core point of it is an important one, I think. Romance publishing gets so little respect, and yet it's a multi-billion-dollar industry; the success of 50 Shades of Grey alone is seriously worth examining (on the back of that single book, Random House could afford to give all of its employees $5k bonuses). Most people working on these novels are female. The novels are written by women, for women, and about women. They're so unique in this regard! And though we still need more non-white, non-hetero romance, now that I stop to think about it, it really is so impressive that this is almost exclusively a women's space -- and as Rodale explores, a lot of the disdain leveled towards the genre has its roots in flat-out sexism. The historical quotes are especially luminating in this regard: the sneering towards romance isn't due to the smut or the cheesy covers, because female readers and female authors have always been derided and scorned, while men have tried to control their reading or diminish their importance. So the fact that we now have this massive genre run by women, well, it's pretty great.

Even I've been snobby about romance novels in the past (those covers tho! those terrible metaphors!), but after reading a couple of them, I'm starting to see what's fun about them. After all, I love romantic comedies in film, which follow a lot of the same principles: they're a safe, predictable formula, where the protagonists will go through some conflict but then undergo the inevitable Happily Ever After, and the main variation is how. Even mediocre romcoms can be soothing, something to make me feel better when I'm sick or having a bad day. So why should romance novels be any different?

Plus murder mysteries follow predictable formulas, too, and yet mysteries have slowly been adopted into the canon of what's considered Respectable Literature despite their genre (though that also took a while).

Either way, it's a fun little book, worth reading whether you're already a romance reader or a skeptic who might need to hear some convincing re: the genre's benefits and appeal and what's impressive about it.

[Read for my Reading Bingo square: "A book about feminism or women's issues"]

[Alexandra · Rating 4 out of 5]

Because romance novels are by women, about women, for women, what we say about them can be interpreted as a statement on how we value women.

[Lucinda Elliot · Rating 3 out of 5]

Some years ago, when I started writing spoof historical gothics, I had an open mind about the role that romantic novels play with regard to feminism.

When young I had subscribed to the view that they generally endorse the values of patriarchy and sugar coat a confirmation of women's role, so now I was interested in the dialectical notion that romance novels could change enough to subvert that reactionary function. That was what the 'romance community' was now arguing, and if they often seemed to be protesting too much, that was understandable, when their genre had been dismissed out of hand for decades.

I was open to being convinced.

Now, after reading several books putting forward those arguments, ie, Pamela Regis' 'The Natural History of the Romance Novel' , Sarah Wendell's 'Beyond Heaving Bosoms' and Maya Rodale's 'Dangerous Books for Girls' among others...

...I have yet to be convinced, unfortunately.

If anything, I find many of the arguments in favour of ‘Reading Romantic Novels as a Form of Feminist Empowerment’ to be hollow. In fact, and often it seems to me that authors of romantic novels are atempting the impossible in trying to co-opt feminism into a genre which is compelled by its current rigid boundaries, finally to be regressive. Also, it seems to me that the form of feminism which endorses above all ‘choice’ and which is tolerant about rape fantasies and such terms as ‘feminine women’ is too blandly tolerant and amorphous to be in any way challanging to the patriarchal status quo.

Unfortunately, it fits into it nicely, thank you. The fact that romance is ‘Written by women, for women’ is no sort of threat to the establishment if the novels feature a woman whose happiness and identity depend upon, in fact, the choices of a man (the fact that ‘she chooses him too’ is besides the point in unequal power relations: were these more equal, her choices might be different).

In fact, it is arguable that it is only when romance challanges and overcomes its own rigid boundaries, that insistence on the obligatory Happy Ever After and Avoiding Nasty Sordid Realism, that it will be able properly to take on a truly feminist stance.

I am frankly disappointed to have come to this way of thinking, but there we are. That wasn’t the conclusion at which I wanted to arrive, but intellectual honesty compels me and all that sort of thing…

I am sorry to say, that I suspect that a certain amount of wishful thinking is going on amongst many of the romance community who symapthize with feminism. I suspect they want to believe that romance can have a progressive role regarding woman’s position because they want to go on writing and reading romances in their old form – or anyway in only a slightly modified verson of it – and therefore, they wish for litearary and feminustification for their tastes without enquiring too deeply how far those tastes have been shaped by unequal power relations between men and women.

This was an interesting book, and while it was openly partisan, it did – unlike Pamela Regis’ defence of romance as literature – utilize humour (you’ll see from my spelling of that from which part of the world I come). It was also well argued. It did make some points that hadn’t occurred to me.

Unlike so many of the blogs written in defence of romance, it did not adopt the defensive: ‘If you don’t adore romance you’ve probably only read one or two in your life and you define the whole genre by one category’ approach.

I did enjoy those dry statistically based quips about, for instance, the huge preponderance of Dukes in Regency Romances and of billionaires in modern day, US based romances. Thank you, Ms Rodale; I do love a laugh above everything.

I also enjoyed the new androgynous depiction of the Alpha, though I think to make that message clear, that Alpha should be more part of the heroine’s role.

It was also refreshing to see someone (apart from Sarah Wendell, that is) comment on the dreadful covers of so many romances, with those males with those bizarre, even unnatural six packs.

I have often thought myself, that some of them look as if they are decomposing or need to be fitted for a bra. ‘The Baron Who Wore A Bra’. How’s that for an anachronism?

I was interested that the author states that romances – as cheap, mass produced literature, are largely uniform in basic theme. I don’t think Regis dared to put her head above the parapet so far.

This is an interesting and highly relevant pointer to romance writing today. I note that some romance writers seem almost to take on the New Age argument that any criticism is negative criticism, and therefore, by definition, BAD…

‘By not having experts determine what is well executed and what is rubbish – after actually reading it –these woman had presumably no idea how to improve their writing’.

This undiscerning attitude continues to the present day, unfortunately. Romance writers and readers, traditionally derided, have adopted an attitude where they are totally uncritical of each other and of romance in general. Nobody will break ranks and admit that a great deal of poor quality stuff is churned out, preferring to comment on the exceptional almost as if it is typical. This is unfortunate, to say the least, for those writers who wish to improve standards and perhaps to challenge the rigid boundaries which have typified it.

The author’s comments about fantasy and the use of the ‘too real but not human robot’ theory was highly astute. I was impressed with that. I would say that is one of my own criticisms of the genre.

Parts of romances are entirely realistic and believable – but they combine with others parts that are pure escapism; for instance, along comes the lover who always satisfies sexually, who always looks wonderful, who is equine in never vomiting – at least in the heroine’s presence. In reality , we all make fools of ourselves – more often than we care to admit. Yet, these men never do. What, an alpha have his trousers - or breeches – fall down (unless he’s deliberately pulling them down)?

And then, the heroine so rarely puts him down verbally. Few man are as verbally adroit as a quick witted woman in a verbal sparring match in real life, but from the average romance, one would think it was the other way about.

All these are part of the fantasy aspect, of course. Sadly, I tend to be displeased by, instead of charmed by, this drift of the romance from realism to escapism, often from quite witty, strong writing to a sentimental approach.

When Ms Rodale comments that the HEA makes the reader feel ‘safe in caring about the characters’ and also speaks of the ‘happy glow’ you get at the end of reading a romantic novel, it doesn’t often seem to work for me. Too often, while having some sympathy for the heroine, I find the hero too arrogant and unsympathetic to wish for a happy ending for him at all.

While the feminist argument in support of romance is that the heroine is depicted as demonstrating power through her making a series of choices (which always result in her choosing the hero), I can’t help feeling quite often that the heroine’s choice of the hero (or anti hero) is a choice she shouldn’t be making.

This is one of the problems with the fantasy aspect of That Happy Ever Afterwards with which I believe it is difficult for a modern feminist reader or writer of romances to ignore. How do you reconcile feminism with what would in reality prove to be a bad choice of a man essentially repressive towards woman (even if he does make an idol out of the heroine). This ending is too selfishly competitive in an infantile way: 'Ooh! He's chosen me! I'm the favourite!'

That was my feeling particularly with the novel which is hailed by Pamela Regis as the original romance novel – the original Alpha Abuser, Mr B, he of at least one attempted rape and false imprisonment. Oh dear, yes, I’ve ploughed through that; and the incredibly boring sequel, ‘Pamela In Her Exalted Condition’ and all of the unabridged version of ‘Clarissa’. I’m a glutton for punishment, as I detest Richardson’s style.

On the romances I've read, I’ve also read Jane Austen, ‘Jane Eyre’, twenty books by Georgette Heyer, some by Barbara Cartland, some by Mary Stewart, Norah Lofts and Vicoria Holt, various modern romances and numerous modern historicals, some by Jilly Cooper and a great deal of nineteenth century dross like Charles Garvice, Mrs Humphrey Ward and Helen Mathers.

I must be a tough nut to crack, as while most romance readers give the impression that they were won over to uncritical acceptance of the genre after reading one or two, I retain strong criticisms.

On Pamela and her supposed empowerment, even her worshipful creator Richardson noted in a letter of 1749 (as quoted by Terry Eagleton in ‘The Rape of Clarissa’ )‘It is apparent by the whole tenor of Mr B’s behaviour that nothing but such an implicit obedience, and slavish submission, as Pamela showed to all his injunctions and dictates, could have made her even tolerably happy with a reformed rake.’

Here, it seems that Richardson had changed his mind about the sort of reward that Pamela’s ‘virtue’ (for me, substitute self serving hypocrisy for virtue) could receive from such a man.

Accordingly, it seems to me that if the patriarch Richardson, who was no supporter of feminism, saw this clearly of Pamela, then a modern day feminist author is on tricky ground indeed in arguing that the rake’s surrender to true love and monogamy in the arms of the heroine, is convincing if s/he implies that facile, sudden reform is at all easy for one of Mr B’s descendants…

With a rake, a conditional happy ending is believable. But an unqualified Hearts and Rainbows one? This is where the robot’s inhumanity grates for me.

That brings me on to an aspect of HEA in many romances dealing with the ‘wicked rake finds true love and reforms’ theme which I find downright unpleasant. So often, the wicked rake having been tamed by the heroine, all is therefore supposed to be well. How can this ending, where a man who has exploited so many women finds happiness with one of that despised breed – be experienced as a satisfactory solution even with suspension of belief about the durability of his conversion to monogamy?

In most of the romances which I have read, the rake expresses no remorse about his past treatment of women; his change is only effective with regard to the heroine; neither does the heroine expect him to. I find this lack of feeling for her predecessors dismal.

In this context, the quote by Maddie Caldwell that ‘The woman is happy and gets what she wants and hey, that is feminism’ which is surely debatable at all times, seems particularly questionable. The alpha may be disabled as a seducing and exploiting machine for the future, and perhaps that may arguably be an act of solidarity with this heroine’s fellow women.

And what if what the woman in the story in question wanted was to be treated as a slave by the hero, with weekly beatings? Surely that would be an indication not that the woman was experiencing empowerment, but that her tastes had been distorted by unequal power relations in her society.

Yet does this hero even deserve to find a delirious happy ever after love himself, with such a history? Is his love of the heroine meant to be so great that he from now own respects all women as a matter of course? Perhaps this is meant to be part of this famous (or infamous) HEA, and I hadn’t realised. If so, it receives little emphasis.

Of course, not all romances are about men with Don Juan complexes; but this stress on individual happiness does highlight in turn another aspect of the structure, ideological base and themes in romantic novels which has never been fully investigated (it has been briefly touched on by Regis, but not really explored).

This is that romantic novels, with their emphasis on the individual heroine and the working out of her individual fate, are historically inextricably linked with the development of capitalism and its ideology of individualism. Perhaps in this, they are a form of literature suited to a particular epoch, much in the same way that the Grail romances were appropriate to the ideology of feudalism?

After all, we won't be able to make out the ideology of our own era very clearly. We perceive reality through it. It will seem 'natural' to us, unless we have trained our minds to be highly critical of our own era.

All forms of social system are finite, and along with them fashion for the particular form of literature to which that structure gave rise.

I was disappointed that the author did not go more thoroughly into the issue of rape in romance, and the ugly history of successful romances in previous eras which feature a rapist – or would be rapist – hero, and the whole matter of how the term ‘Bodice Rippers’ has often been justified.

I was glad that Maya Rodale acknowledges that: ‘There are romance heroes too arrogant, too controlling, too in need of a restraining order’.

I do not find the excuse by Jane Little, quoted in this bit, that these stories ‘obviously appeal to some emotional interest of the reader’ an adequate excuse. Should mainsteam literature act as a sop for such base urges?

Neither would I agree with Jane Little’s definition of feminism, as ‘the right to chose and be in control of your own body and desires without judgement’.

Few would say it was all right for ‘romances’ with a paedophile theme to be published, so I cannot agree with Jane Little’s definition. She does seem to be bending over backwards to try and find regressive aspects of the romance novel ‘empowering’.

I was a little disappointed that Maya Rodale quoted the fashionable ‘there’ s nothing wrong with rape fantasies’ line in this chapter on the issue of rape in romance.

I know many feminists do currently take that line. I personally agree with the view I saw expressed on a discussion thread on the topic recently, that it is a kink that should be acknowledged as an unfortunate result of patriarchal values rather than being seen as in any way positive.

On this, I was dismayed to see that the ‘classic’ romantic novel, ‘The Sheik’ with its infamous rapist hero, received five star uncritical reviews on Amazon, though I was delighted to see that many readers expressed their disgust with that story here on Goodreads.

I note that with a few honourable exceptions, there is a deafening silence upon the topic of Georgette Heyer’s foul would be rapist hero in ‘Devil’s Cub’. Here, it seems that there are many readers who, while unappy with the Rape as Romance trope, are quite comfortable with the Would Be Rapist Who is Tamed and Made Less Bad by the Heroine one, where the hero is frustrated (in every sense) by the heroine's actions.

These are some of the areas of disagreement I had with the book. Another is that the author, out of scruples and fellow feeling perhaps towards her fellow romance writers, never explicitly acknowledges how many purely terrible romances are being churned out, both by traditional publishers and Indie authors.

I believe that Ms Rodale writes Regency Romances. I must admit I haven’t read any of her works, but very likely, they reflect her interest in research.

My particular area of interest with regard to this area – and no doubt this is partly because I am from the UK – are those dreadful historical romances, particularly Regencies, which show little or no historical research. I am sorry to say that a number of US writers are particular offenders, though a smaller proportion of UK writers are not exempt. I have come across traditionally published Regency Romances set in an England with a parliament with seemingly only one chamber, where lager is available and beds are made up with duvets, where unmarried girls go about unescorted, and where people express scorn with ‘Oh, please!’

No doubt it is all part of the escapist aspect of romances that the ugly aspects of life in an era so beloved by readers of historical romance – unwashed bodies, infant mortality, faeces and dead cats in the streets, public torture in the pillories, religious bigotry, death in childbirth and all the rest, are ignored.

I don’t see why they have to be, any more than I can see why a conditional happy ending is out of the question.

I am always rather dismayed that all Regency Romances follow the lead of Georgette Heyer in generally (there are honourable exceptions here, too) in featuring only the upper class and upper middle class. It would be good to see a move towards a trend featuring ordinary working people.

Thorough researcher though she was, Georgette Heyer was decidedly reactionary in her political and social convictions (witness her appalling comments on the Six Day War). This inevitably influenced both the nature of that research, and her depiction of the Regency era – this was after all, shortly before the time of the Peterloo Masscare, though one would never think so, from her consensus oriented depiction of society. I think it is a shame that Regency Romance has, almost unconsciously, it seems, continued to depict her alternative reality. There even seems to be a misconception on the part of the historically naive readers of her work, that had they been alive then, they would have been a member of the tiny British upper class (ie, that they would all have belonged to a group comprising less than 2 per cent of the population).

I have to say that I can’t agree, either, with Maya Rodale, that romance readers are open to innovation. I have often noticed that attempts at innovation in romance are greeted with hostility or incredulity in reviews.

As the author has, I believe, an MA in English, I was dissapointed that she has gone in for an ungrammatical style in places, ie, the sub-heading, ‘Because women’. I know she wanted to write a book in a ‘populist’ style designed to appeal to those who see no need for conjunctions – but I don’t think in a book designed to ‘redeem the genre’s reputation’ as literature, it was a good idea to give the impression that she is ignorant of the rules of grammar herself.

I have many other disagreements with the arguments the author puts forward, but if I went on, this review would turn into an essay. I will only mention one further one, that of romance as a form of escapism that is somehow argued by its feminist critics to be 'empowering'.

It seems that many romance readers read as many of these books as twenty a month. As the author admits that few women have much spare time after dealing with work and family responsibilities, this amount of time spent on reading what she admits is an 'escapist literature' which offers individual happy endings, is a lot of time taken away from doing something to improve the reality from which these women feel so strong a need to escape. It is not as if I am against escapism -I enjoy a bit myself; but if a women feels such a strong need to get away from her reality, then it needs changing, and surely the way to do so is in company with other women - and men - rather than reading escapist literature by herself.

Overall, then, a stimulating read, though one with which I can’t, sadly, agree.

[Ale · Rating 2 out of 5]

Read as part of Bookriot's 2017 Read Harder Challenge for the Book about books category.

After reading quite a bit of romance this year, when the bookclub at work read this piece of nonfiction for the month of February, I became intrigued. Lucy was kind enough to let me borrow it and after putting a few romances under my belt, I decide to actually look at the genre from a more academic perspective. I used to disparage the genre quite a lot myself and I wouldn't really describe my lunchtime reading of romance novels to be quite as out in the open as I would read non-fiction, literary fiction or even sci-fi/fantasy.

When I started Dangerous Books for Girls, I really enjoyed Rodale's arguments: that romance in and of itself is an incredibly prolific genre, that it makes a lot of money, that's run (publishing, writing, editing) primarily by women, that the books were by women for women, starring women who find their Happily Ever After. I enjoyed the discussion about the history of the romance genre and how it came to be embodied by, of course, a man: Fabio. Unfortunately, from there Rodale starts spinning her wheels for the next 150 or so pages. Despite some great ideas, what seems to happen is that Rodale runs out of steam, somehow. She starts vacillating between defending the amount of money romance makes (because money = trashy book) and immediately resorting to that as an excuse for why romance is so reviled (that other genres are, in essence, jealous of romance's success).

We keep going back to these "ladies of the nineteenth century" who wrote these brilliant stories for other women and how puritanical attitudes were somehow challenged by stories in which women were allowed to dream of something more. I'm kind of surprised that Rodale somehow submitted this as per masters thesis, because it's repetitive and what smarts off as a great premise seems to fizzle away into nothing. Her academic references are few and far between and when she mentions people working in the industry, she a) constantly repeats their names (I'm talking 10+ references in like 20 pages, like we all have goldfish memories) and b) seems to only go for a handful of publications and authors/publishers/editors. Some big names get dropped (Eloisa James, Julia Quinn) but they're never interviewed and whatever snippets are quoted are clearly from other sources and interviews.

The other annoying part was how poorly formatted this book was. There was a small section at the end of a chapter looking into 'Avon, the company for women' which... didn't say anything about Avon at all. Not the cosmetics company, not the romance publisher, nothing, nada. That's just amateurish, I mean come on! There were typos and other small formatting issues but this one really got my goat. I'd also have liked a little bit more cohesion to her arguments. She seems to flit between topics and never quite manages to decide on something that she wants to do or see through to its logical end.

The biggest gripe I have with this is how she constantly tries to argue that Fifty Shades of Grey is somehow empowering to women, rather than glorifying abusers and tarnishing the entire BDSM community with a brush of people unable to understand basic consent. There are hints that she finds the whole thing to be a feminist exercise, somehow, because I guess a guy buying your dinner and making you eat it is somehow aspirational, feminist (she chooses to eat the dinner!) and totally, in no way, abusive. There were quite a few times when Rodale drove me to rage (and I did, to the bemusement of IRL friends) because what I had hoped would be a good treatise on romance novels basically turned into a really long, really meandering blog post.

Even more frustratingly, she skirts the edges of what could really be very interesting discussions: romance does portray a very heteronormative experience (by and large) that does tend to finish with the man and woman marrying and having children, particularly in historical romance. But rather than look into that in further detail -- what does contemporary romance do, should the Happy For Now become the default for a book to be romance, to reflect how much women's goals for their lives have now changed, how consent plays a part in modern love and yes, even if acts like blowjobs can be considered feminist -- Rodale just decides that it's too hard and keeps looping back to one of her overarching arguments: that romance books are escapist and therefore women know it's not really real so it's perfectly fine. Now, let it not be said that I am a snob: in fact, in reading romances recently I've overlooked how quickly it goes from first sight --> lust --> shenanigans --> love --> the end and I'm a huge fan of speculative fiction, so believe in faster-than-light travel or ice zombies isn't that unusual for me. But simply saying that well, a woman is busy so she just wants to dream of being swept off her feet is reductive and frankly patronising. Not everything needs to be Proust Marcel, not by any means. But don't pretend that somehow plot and cohesion don't matter if it's just escapism.

The book starts to meander about a third in and I soon found myself flagging. This isn't a super dry tome, but I just feel like Rodale almost couldn't challenge herself with anything that might ask that she critically examine the books she purports to love. It falls flat on its face and I was incredibly disappointed with it. It won't put me off reading romances as such, but maybe I'll keep feminist examinations of them either to myself or to IRL friends only.

[daemyra, the realm's delight · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you are going to read this, make sure to pair it up with Jayne Ann Krentz’s Dangerous Men and Adventurous Women, as Maya Rodale’s Dangerous Books for Girls is the not-so-subtle successor to Krentz’s 1992 collection of essays about romance novels.

The genesis of Rodale's book started when she was working on her master’s thesis on women’s fiction from early 18th and 19th century England. Rodale expands beyond the original scope of her thesis about how romance earned its “bad” reputation throughout history, from its very inception to the present-day to discuss the social implications of critical and popular snark against a genre that is so firmly a part of women's fiction.

“The Romance Revolution” and “Trashy Books” are excellent chapters that go into the reputation of the romance novel throughout the ages, and how this particular genre was doomed from the get-go to be looked down upon. Romances were looked down in 18th century England as much as they were in modern times.

In the olden times, it was because novels were considered drivel, female novelists even more so looked down on (surprise surprise) and the theme of love transcending class boundaries was too much for the elites to handle.

In the not-so-olden olden times, the mass-market paperback romance novel of the 1970s was considered “substandard literature, not simply because of the low price but because frequently they [were] not even purchased from a bookstore.” All of this boiling down to the stereotype of romance readers as impulsive readers with uncontrollable appetites and desires.

Rodale picks up the threads of conversations from Krentz’s collection, adding her own commentary in chapters such as “Romance Versus Realism”, “Pure Heroine”, “The Real Appeal of the Alpha,” “The Covers”, “Because She’s Worth It”, and “Happy Ever After.” Krentz's collection had memorably discussed the fantasy element in romances, the symbol of virginity in romance, the reason why alpha males are dominant in the genre, the power of the clinch covers, the permission for heroines to not care about their appearance to the happy ever after ending, and many of their arguments are mentioned by Rodale.

In "Romance Versus Realism", Rodale sidesteps the fantasy element to argue defiantly that to dismiss romances as unrealistic “is a way to lower expectations for relationships.” “The Covers” is a positive affirmation of clinch covers with in-depth recollections by the artist, Jon Paul, on what it took to create the images. Honestly, I adore them and I couldn’t say it better about how a good clinch cover makes me feel than this:

“I’m sold. I want this book. This cover promises extreme passion. It’s not shy or coy. It is not ashamed. As one romance reader commented: “I think the clinch cover is great: It says, in quite unapologetic terms, ‘Yes, I am a romance. Within my covers you’re going to read about a woman and a man falling in love. Plus, they are going to have sex.”

Some of the chapters, you may as well as go back to the original source (Krentz), but other chapters are new. I particularly enjoyed “Proof of Snark”, an examination of the lack of critical and popular review of romances and women’s fiction in general, and why it matters. It matters because:

“Placement plays a huge role in how romance is represented and what messages are sent about its quality and readership, and in this instance we see how simple placement can give “permission” to read the books without it being a disparaging statement of one’s intellect.”

In addition, Rodale makes the compelling point that talking about romance in terms of how it is a moneymaker is not what is going to rehabilitate its reputation and cause people to respect the genre.

However, there were some chapters that I felt could have been examined further, in particular, “Bra Burners and Bodice Rippers." Rodale dispels common misconceptions about why romances are not feminist but some of the answers were overtly simplistic. In answer to why romance is not about men, the answer is that women also talk to other women. This felt a bit disingenuous as a reason since a romance has traditionally been about the relationship of two straight people. And I think this had to do with the fact that perhaps Rodale was drawing upon her own experience, which seems to be vanilla historicals and contemporary paranormal romances. These genres are doing two very different things in the very different worlds that they are building.

Overall, worth the read. Written in a very conversational tone. Funnily enough, never read anything by Rodale, but I get the impression that if you like Tessa Dare and Julia Quinn, you’d probably enjoy her works.

[Ivory Clair · Rating 5 out of 5]

Maya's insights into the history of the romance genre are fascinating! Her analysis of why these beloved books are looked down upon was profound. Maya discusses the origins of the romance novel and how women writers were shamed simply for writing at all. While nowadays the misogynistic reasons for anti-romance bias are less explicit, Maya explores how misogyny still contributes to this bias. She discusses how romance is primarily written by women and read by a predominantly female audience, and how these statistics influence people's perception of the genre.

Maya's overview of how romance novels have impacted readers and writers alike is inspiring. I highly recommend this book to anyone who has ever felt shamed for reading romance, and to anyone who has ever shamed someone else for reading romance. You might learn something!

[Rebecca · Rating 3 out of 5]

Although it gets a little repetitive, this is an interesting academic analysis of why we shun romance novels as being "not respectable" and how that is tied up with women's roles in society. Rodale's a good enough academic that it doesn't feel like justification for the genre, but rather an important and constantly overlooked space for women to be represented as complete people instead of walking sex appeal.

[Rae Beeler · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.25 stars.

This book made me want to read romance novels again. It was a genre of book I read here and there in high school, but haven't really read since (apart from the annual reread of Jane Eyre). It's a genre predominately "written by women, for women, about women," and it surprisingly outsells other popular genres like fantasy and sci-fi. However, there's a stigma surrounding the romance novel, which assumes that the genre is unliterary and unsophisticated. That stigma is then applied to those who read these novels, predominately women.

But if you dare to pick up a romance novel, anything from Jane Austen to Nora Roberts, you'll notice that the females in these texts have agency. Being a woman is enough - we're not empty vessels - and women are capable of having a transformative journey, and that is exhibited as the norm within these stories. And that's what makes the romance novel subversive literature. There's also this acknowledgment of female desire, so often excluded in other genres. I hate to break it to the men in the world, but women want things too: like happiness, love, and really good sex. And that's the appeal of the romance and to texts like 'Outlander,' Persuasion,' and 'The Notebook.' We see facets of ourselves in the female characters that we rarely see outside of romance and chick literature.

[Mia Reads Romance · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love how much thought Maya has put into the romance genre and it’s inherent value for women. Anyone who feels like they have to hide their love of romance or should read this book.

[Roxana Chirilă · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Dangerous Books For Girls" is about 200 pages long, but it reads more like a series of blog posts or Tumblr rants than the usual academic book. It has references and quotes, but the style is friendly, very readable, a bit chaotic and somewhat repetitive. It has a couple of good ideas, some interesting stats and quotes, but most of it I've heard or thought before.

I'm relatively new to romance and I don't read that much of it. Mostly, this is because my literary tastes are all over the place and my time is limited, but I can't help but notice a few issues with romance as a whole. I'm on the fence between "romance reader" and "romance skeptic", and "Dangerous Books For Girls" does little to push me in either direction.

Maya Rodale's book starts from the age-old premise that romance is looked down upon because it belongs to women. It's written by women and read by women, and the moment women take over a domain, it loses prestige.

I really understand where that's coming from, especially historically - but as time goes by, the prejudice is decreasing. As the world becomes more equal, we cannot blame anti-woman feelings for everything. Not with N.K. Jemisin, Gillian Flynn and others writing in other genres.

In my opinion, romance is one of several literary genres that have had a bad reputation in the recent past, although some of the others are picking up some respectability. Sci Fi was supposed to be of interest only to nerds living in their parents' basements, Fantasy was for hippies and nerds, comics were for kids and people who wouldn't grow up.

To be fair, the bad reputation wasn't exactly unearned. Sci Fi classics, while not exactly pure trash, often don't have the complexity or stylistic qualities of other classics. Asimov was great at intellectual puzzles in "The Foundation", but his characters were made of cardboard; Arthur C. Clarke knew how to start a mystery, but ended it with New Age-istic BS. Fantasy was filled with Tolkien wannabes and D&D campaigns. And the less said about some old comics, the better.

Genres can have a quality problem, and romance is no exception. While Jane Austen wrote wonderfully, the majority of romances published today aren't at that level, and marketing decisions in romance don't help you pick up the greats when browsing at your local bookshop. As Rodale notes, romance is marketed as interchangeable, which makes it more opaque when trying to enter the genre, especially without having a friend to offer recommendations.

Why friends? Because, as Rodale points out, established critics are less likely to review romances - out of over 140 novels, Nora Roberts only had 2 reviewed in the New York Times by the time "Dangerous Books For Girls" was published. This isn't helpful to new readers. Heck, it's probably not helping authors, either, because they don't have out-of-genre critique or official recognition.

On the other hand, Rodale thinks, this might be good, because it allows authors to experiment, since they're free from the chains of respectability and criticism; they have nothing to lose and only to gain by trying something new.

I'm not sure what to say about her opinions. She might have a point here, but I'm not sold on it. I'm also not sold on the way she approaches the issue, as if romance were virtually unchanged from the time of Austen's writing - I doubt that we'd see as romances in the 19th century are the same as the books published today in the genre, but Rodale doesn't say much about their differences and treats them the same, with a focus on how the newest novels differ from those half a century ago. I can understand a focus on the here and now, but as someone who is interested in the history of literature, I can't help but feel she missed something there. (Especially thinking back on what i know of penny literature and the attempts some misguided souls made to sell the poor masses things to improve their morality.)

Maya Rodale defends romance as an escapist fantasy of being cared for and loved as one is - an argument I've heard over and over again, and which I'm 100% on board with. But she goes even further, claiming that this is feminist, because it puts women and their happiness first. Even if women get married and have kids, she says, this is feminist because it's about them, about achieving a good relationship without giving up their souls.

I'm not entirely sold on this. On the one hand, yes, sure, it's not unfeminist to want happiness for yourself, even in a relationship. On the other hand, romances usually operate within the status quo. Their fantasy isn't one of changing the world, but of making your bit of the world great within society's constraints. On a small scale, it is an achievement. But it's not feminist. If you find a husband who cherishes you and allows you to be yourself, that is still given to you. The basic inequality in historical romances, for example, is negotiated and maybe negated, but it's still stifling. The system is there before, will be there afterwards, and it is only on a personal level that it is resolved in a positive manner. Mr. Darcy must learn to cherish Elizabeth Bennet in order to achieve happiness with her - but Elizabeth is caught between being disrespected and being impoverished, and her way out is not out of the box, but within the box. She does not save her family through her efforts; instead, she saves it and finds happiness through marriage.

I see romance as mostly traditional. It doesn't challenge too much. It offers clever solutions inside the box. It promises happiness even if you don't change the world. And that's fine. One doesn't need to have one's entire life philosophy reflected in everything they're into. I'm a firm believer in pacifism, for example, but that doesn't mean I want my video games to be pacifist. I very much like murdering my opponents, thank you.

And isn't that a better way to go? To stop claiming that this is feminist and to declare it neutral in that respect? After all, we all like worlds with no random murder, but "Game of Thrones" is hellishly popular and we don't defend it by claiming it's pacifist. There are better ways to point out potential and worth in a genre - and, personally, I think romance still has a lot to grow, but it's heading faster in the right direction.

Anyway, this has been less of a proper review, and more of me engaging with the book. "Dangerous Books For Girls" contains neat things, too, such as the stat for how many dukes there are in romance novel titles (in percentages!), some historical info about how romances used to be published and sold back in the day, Fabio and more. Worth a read if you're into that sort of thing, but it won't blow your socks off.

[Amy · Rating 5 out of 5]

"Romance novels feature nuanced portrayals of female characters having adventures, making choices, and accepting themselves just as they are. When we say these stories are silly and unrealistic, we are telling young girls not to expect to be the heroines in their own real lives.
Romance novels depict female sexuality as a loving, pleasurable, and above all acceptable part of being a happy woman. But when we call them smutty, dirty, or trashy books, we are negating that message.
Romance novels portray life as we, women, would love it to be. One that recognizes our worth, rewards us for our confidence, and supports our choices. When we say these books are unrealistic, we are telling young girls, who might still be open-minded about their own opportunities, that they should lower their expectations.
Romance novels show a variety of heroines, be they plain, pretty, plump, or skinny. They might be black, white, rich, poor, gay, or straight. But when we say only stupid women read these books, we are telling young girls that they are foolish for believing that they can be beautiful and loveable just the way they are.
Even when we don't talk about romance novels, we are sending a message that women are not worth talking about and that they should be seen and not heard."
[From Dangerous Books for Girls: The Bad Reputation of Romance Novels Explained by Maya Rodale, "Why It Matters How We Talk About Romance Novels"]

Dangerous Books for Girls is an examination romance as genre primarily through the lens of gender. The author brought up a lot of points that I hadn't considered and constructs an interesting and well supported argument about how the romance genre isn't treated fairly (in comparison to contemporary lit or fantasy or historical fiction or literally any other genre) primarily due to its mostly female authorship and readership. The author also points out the likely role that the romance genre has played in social movements due to the inherent message of the stories. Despite romance's reputation for cringy bodice rippers and rapist 'heroes' - a reputation largely based on early to mid twentieth century books, not the modern genre - more recently published romances often are nuanced explorations of any number of issues, only organized around the axis of a relationship and invested in a hopeful conclusion. As the author points out, trashing an entire genre based on commonly appearing tropes is unfair in the extreme, prevents readers from picking up the books or respecting people who read the genre, and denigrates the kind of discussion and change that the themes are meant to promote. An equivalent would be trashing fantasy as a genre because the apocalypse (or whatever their specific variant is called) is a commonly used trope and saying that discussion of racism and fascism through the medium of Harry Potter is a worthless endeavor, people who read the Harry Potter are stupid anyways and no semi-intelligent person would stoop to picking up those kinds of books because they aren't worth the paper they're printed on. There are some people who feel that way about fantasy, but the author's point is that such people are comparatively few and far between when one takes into account the mass of people who think something similar about the romance genre, often without even realizing it.

Overall, Dangerous Books for Girls was an enlightening read, and it is one that I would recommend to others.

[Sharon · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book is an interesting look at the history of romance novels, and why they are devalued by both people who don't read the genre and the literary establishment at large.

Narrator voice: Because they are primarily by and for women.

This is no shock or spoiler; it's an open secret. However, what was most interesting about this book was its well-sourced examination of how empowering the books are for women -- particularly successful women who might like to stop toting the proverbial weary load for an hour or two and escape.

While I didn't find anything surprising in the analyses, I did recognize my own reluctance/shame over either reading or writing romantic tales -- and now I have a better understanding of where it came from.

[Diane Peterson · Rating 5 out of 5]

A thought-provoking study of romance novels and feminism. Very readable.

[Mark Oppenlander · Rating 4 out of 5]

After politely putting up with my questions about romance novels for many years, my friend Sarah finally just sent me an electronic copy of this book and said, "Here. Maya Rodale can explain all of this for you; I don't have the energy." I'm grateful to Sarah and to Ms. Rodale, as this exploration of the history, meaning, and significance of romance novels was truly eye-opening.

Rodale begins with a simple question: Why is the most lucrative form of fiction known to modern consumers so frequently maligned and denigrated? The answer is also simple; at the heart of romance's bad reputation is sexism. Romance threatens the patriarchy.

Don't believe her? Rodale has the receipts. This book was built on the research she did for her Master's thesis at NYU and is extensively footnoted. (I was grateful for the footnote feature in the Kindle app that allowed me to open and close the notes in line with my reading.) Rodale digs back into the 18th and 19th century to explore how early novels written by women were routinely denounced by men, who found themselves threatened by women's economic empowerment, self-expression, and descriptions of feminine happiness. It's a sobering history lesson and the parallels to the snark thrown at contemporary romance novels are obvious. When men realized they couldn't stop women from writing and reading these novels, they took to trying to belittle them.

Rodale also discusses some of the common tropes in romance novels, with chapters on "Reformed Rakes," "Bodice Rippers," the appeal of the alpha male, the famously sexy book covers, and what makes a perfect heroine (hint: it's not about being perfect). She peppers these exploratory forays with examples, quotes from authors and readers, and analysis from other literary critics and scholars. Meanwhile, she keeps the whole endeavor light, entertaining, and fun. It's a terrifically entertaining read, even if you're not a big romance reader. It would likely be even more fun if you already love romance novels.

I've read a handful of romance novels and may read more in my life. But whether or not I ever become a regular consumer, I am grateful to have better insight into the genesis and value of this wildly popular genre. It gives me an appreciation for the ways in which misogyny can creep into something as mundane as what we read for fun - and it gives me more sympathy for my friends who feel like they have to hide their reading habits from the rest of us. As someone who has been unwilling to pull out a science-fiction novel with a particularly lurid cover while on public transit, I get it. Perhaps we all need to stop feeling ashamed for what we read.

If you're skeptical of the claim that romance novels are a doorway into feminism, read this book. It might just change your mind.

[Elizabeth Tai · Rating 5 out of 5]

Why do so many rreaders hide the fact that they read romance novels? Why do people roll their eyes when they talk about the genre? Have you ever thought to question the assumptions and presumptions about the romance genre? I, too, had the same prejudice against the genre, though mine was akin to a betrayal. After spending my teenhood reading romance, I decided I was too "with it" and mature to read romance novels anymore. So I ditched it and joined the eye rolling masses. It's only in my late thirties that I rediscovered the joy of romance novels - how they lift my spirits, how they make me laugh and smile ... so many books have the opposite effect on me. During my twenties and thirties, I had a non-fiction phase where all I read were books on sustainable development, environment, nutrition and politics. Those books, while informative, often left me in a funk because they offered no solutions to our present dire circumstances. Fantasy books were great, but often left me sad by the evil I read inside. Literary books were nourishing but also frustrating ... well, the long story short, romance novels cheer me up like no genre can.

Rodale lists down every prejudice and discusses them thoroughly. Sadly, it would seem this prejudice has very deep roots, and it's roots that are buried in society's regard (or lack of) for women's freedoms, roles, intelligence and acceptance. That discrimination has bled into the genre that is "written for women and by women". That is why I often feel angry when people snub the genre, because it feels like a snub against my desire to be a woman accepted on her own terms.

A must read!

[Emily · Rating 3 out of 5]

Very cool to read the true stories behind a lot of myths about the genre. I love her opening question, "how do we know to look down on romance novels before we've even read any?" and the conclusions she draws at the end. Plus, the writing is funny and clear, never dryly academic. Would recommend to anyone interested in reading about how our culture treats media by and for women - it's a short enough read that it could be worth checking out even if romance novels specifically aren't your thing. Still, the defensive, appreciative tone did wear on me a bit - I get it, these are good and important books, that's why I'm interested in reading this in the first place... I would have loved to read a longer version that did allow for some critical reflection, and more exploration of different subgenres, not to mention a more thorough look at what the genre means to women whose (race, class, appearance, sexual orientation, etc) isn't as widely represented among heroines. I realize this isn't that book, but it did what it did so well that it left me wanting more.

[Lynsy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Full review at Little Book Jockey. Very, very good. I wish people who make fun of romance novels or "chick lit" would care enough to understand how demeaning they're being to half the world's population.

[Sylri · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very interesting and fun introductory look at the romance genre and its readers. It gives a survey of romance readers’ perception of the genre as well as those outside of it (and how incorrect those outsider perceptions often are). As well as some historical tidbits about how some of the traits we automatically associate with the genre came to be.

But most of all it seems to be a reassurance that romance readers shouldn’t be made to be ashamed of their reading material. And in fact, the traits that others disparage the genre for are what make it so great for women.

It’s definitely something one should read if they have even a passing interest in romance.

[Zane S · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a very good read. It was very informative for me as a new to the genre reader and I’m glad I read it. It was never boring but it was a bit dated considering it was released in 2015 so it referenced lots of popular media from that time. It was interesting to read it now in 2022 and see how far the genre has come. I highly recommend this book for anyone. That’s right anyone. Everyone should read it. And yes there are some grammatical errors but they do not diminish the message of the writing at all.

[Eugenia Doran · Rating 2 out of 5]

There were some great points but there was also a lot I disagreed with, as well as a lot of unnecessary repetition (I found a lot of the book redundant). I feel like it contained the seed of a better book that was just not brought to fruition. A decent entry to the field of literary criticism about romance novels, neither terrible nor wonderful. I was underwhelmed.

[Malia · Rating 4 out of 5]

Read this looking for some fodder for my class on the history of the book, and indeed I found some good stuff!

There's something kind of fun about the idea that because romance isn't necessarily for men, men have deemed it bad. Because they think it's bad, they've just LEFT WOMEN ALONE to do their work, and voila, it's a billion dollar industry.

[Jenna · Rating 3 out of 5]

hoarder challenge: #14 Library book

3.5 stars

Apparently, the writer of this book is also a romance book writer herself which means that she has insider knowledge of the subject matter.

I found it very interesting. At times, it is a little dry b/c it reads a bit like a dissertation.

The book explores not just the history of the romance novel (which I enjoyed learning about) but also how it relates to today’s society.

It was well written & researched.

And many fascinating facts about the genre:
For example, Nora Roberts who is one of the best known & most prolific writers in the genre has had about 141 books appear on the NY Times bestseller list but has only had 2 reviews written by the NY Times. Because of the genre, it is perceived as not serious literature in need of reviewing.
Many of us on GR can tell you that’s not so.

Also, how classifying a book in a category can effect it’s popularity. For exs., does it go on the fiction or the romance shelf? Or a romance featuring African-American characters gets shelved w/the African-American literature which would be bypassed by the romance fans looking on the romance shelves. And if it’s classified & promoted as fiction, it’ll get more publicity & sales then if it’s promoted as a romance.

And while it is predominantly read & written by women, there are men in there. But it is thought of as embarrassing so many don’t admit it.

So overall, an insightful exploration of the romance novel.

[Bernie · Rating 3 out of 5]

"Because romance novels are by women, about women, for women, what we say about them can be interpreted as a statement on how we value women."

Informative, entraining and approachable. It's a great way to get into non fiction if someone is particularly interested in the romance genre.
On the down side, i felt it was too surface level, repetitive, and a bit outdated.
Even though the book was published in 2015 some concepts might age a little poorly and it doesn't cover this current resurgence of the romance genre thanks to new marketing strategies (yes, TikTok). Although this is hardly the author's fault, it still contributes to the feeling of "outdatedness".
Also I didn't feel this had enough historical content or enough data. The author mentions having conducted a survey but it is never specified how many people were surveyed, gender, race, ethnicity, etc. It is just very loosely separated in romance readers and non romance readers.
It is easy to follow but it gets progressively more repetitive towards the end. It has strong arguments and the author makes a good point but i don't think it was wrapped up neatly.
Still, i got some good fun facts like "Did you know that in the 1970s Harlequin built their business and readership by giving out free romance novels in sanitary pads boxes?". Granted, not many people care about this particular one but i thought it was interesting.

[Maria DeBlassie · Rating 5 out of 5]

I love this book and use it often in my classes on the romance novel. It offers a comprehensive and accessible overview of the historical, social, and cultural context of the romance novel. Great stuff!

[Colleen · Rating 3 out of 5]

I think I expected different things from this book than what it was aiming to do, which is more my fault. Wasn't all that pleased with how several hundred years of book history was covered (simplified) though.

[Katie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Summary: A really thoughtful collection of essays, conversational in tone but addressing substantial questions raised by the romance genre.

Even among some romance readers, who may describe reading romance as their 'guilty pleasure', romance has something of a bad reputation. Formulaic. Unrealistic. Fluff. These are just some of the charges commonly leveled against romance. In this collection of short essays, romance author and reader Maya Rodale explores the origins of the stigma surrounding romance novels. She explores the history of the romance and discusses how the treatment of romance novels tracks with the way society treats women. She also shares survey results and interview quotes to support claims about how romance novels are perceived.

Initially, I was nervous this book was going to be too light. The first essay or two are a nice, easy introduction to the history of romance novels and how romance novels are commonly perceived. Fortunately, the author uses this foundation to dig more deeply into many of the fascinating questions raised by the romance genre. She discusses how romances are sold; how they're marketed; and how they're reviewed. She also critically considers many romance tropes, from the happily ever after (HEA) to the alpha hero. I found these essays thoughtful and well reasoned, while simultaneously maintaining an approachable and conversational tone. There is about 1 typo every 20 pages in my (finished) version - not enough to diminish my enjoyment of a book, but I know it might bother some people.

One of my favorite points that the author made was about the affect being able to rely on the HEA has on the reader. She talks about how this allows the reader to relax and become fully emotionally engaged in the story. As someone who loves the sort of books that you just know will have a HEA, romance and otherwise, I agree with this completely. She also talks about how romance enables readers to explore their own feelings about topics related to romance. This reminded me of my experiment reading romance last February. I found that there was a lot to unpack in every novel. Romance novels can raise questions of what constitutes consent; how power balances should look in a relationship; and where the line is between protective and domineering, take-charge confidence and abuse. Reader's opinions on these issues are sure to be at lease as diverse as their taste in sex scenes, but whatever their opinions, reading a romance novel can be a great way to clarify those opinions for yourself.

So, in short,  I not only enjoyed this essay collection, I was also reminded of what I think are the strongest points of the romance novel - for me, the HEA and the way they make me think about relationships. Recommended to anyone who reads romance, to anyone who thinks romance isn't worth reading, and to anyone interested in feminism.This review was originally posted on Doing Dewey

[Sam · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'm supportive of efforts to explore the romance genre through an academic lens, particularly literary and sociological examinations. So my 3 stars are a nod to the effort. I'm less enthused about the content. Too much of the paper focuses on history that's been well-covered already in much better works (re: access to/control of reading materials; the revolution of the printing press; devaluation of anything related to women, etc.) This piece would've benefited from more original analysis, tying the history more to romance novels and the place they occupy in society today. This is based off of Rodale's Master's thesis*, so I get that it couldn't be as comprehensive as a full-fledged book, but I still think more depth would've been possible. In any event, for people who aren't as familiar with this history and the issues that this paper touches on, they might find it an okay introductory work.

*(I hope this was only based off of the thesis and not the actual thesis itself; otherwise it would lead me to wonder what kind of Master's program accepts academic work that employs language that's so strikingly informal. The paper is peppered with what seemed like way too many uses of "probably" for a research piece.)

[Jamie · Rating 4 out of 5]

Rodale, a romance novelist, explores the "bad reputation" that romance novels in their various guises have long held. Compared to other genre fiction, romance gets less review attention and "official" notice (in dictionary definition, for example), not to mention the mocking it gets in casual conversation. Rodale attributes these slights to misogyny. They're by and for women; they're not important. Or are they? If they're important, it's because they're DANGEROUS. They're unrealistic! They're antifeminist because the heroines get married! Or because they get tied up! Rodale conducted a nonscientific but revealing survey of romance readers to find out what they actually enjoy about these novels (when you've been at work and made dinner and put the kids to bed, a billionaire who takes care of everything sounds kind of appealing) and the ways in which they are empowering. (Well, they're about women's pleasure...)

Thought-provoking and interesting to read, kinda dense, but not super-polished. Rodale is an educated woman but not a professional scholar and the editing of the book was sloppy, lots of typos. Still, it's what there is out there taking romance novels seriously, so I'll take it!

[Caroline · Rating 4 out of 5]

By no means perfect or comprehensive and definitely lacks intersectionality but like, as an intro nonfiction text on romance as a genre? Easy to read, a bit repetitive but the repetition made it easy for me to follow point to point, pretty short, and I actually feel like I absorbed a lot of the text (not always a guarantee with nonfiction for me lmao). Plus I have a list of other resources to track down and other scholarship to dive into if/when I'm feeling it again.

Pros: easy to read/follow, short, makes a good introduction for romance readers interested in looking at the genre from a more analytical standpoint/learning more about the history
Cons: lacks intersectionality (mentions queer romance on a few occasions) and depth

[Sarah · Rating 5 out of 5]

It took almost a year for me to finish this book because when I started, I couldn't read more than a few pages without losing my temper. The more I learned about the history of novels and novel writing, "dangerous books for girls," the more I resented the labels of trashy books or mommy porn. The value of romance novels is entwined with the value of women. If you cannot grasp the importance of women writing about women for women, you have serious problems. So, if you, reader, continue to scorn romance novels I will either conclude you are a hopeless misogynist or simply uneducated, and send you a copy of this book. Maya Rodale is a talented writer and I'm sure she could use the royalties.