There once was a time when I would be absolutely jarred when the main character of my book realized she had feelings for the king of the underworld, who was sent to kill her father. Normally, this kind of dark, slightly problematic plot line is referred to as “enemies to lovers.” But within the past two years or so, I haven’t been able to be surprised by this quality penmanship because entire tropes are being labeled verbatim on the back of the book.
Say goodbye to the days when you’d get halfway through your novel and realize the grumpy mechanic, Axel, is actually in love with his holly-jolly neighbour named Molly. Now, nearly every, single, book, is being tragically wrapped up in a snappy three-word tagline. And I do not like it one bit.
I remember when romance books used to be dismissed as basic and formulaic. You could almost always guess, down to the page number, when the couple gets together, breaks up, then inevitably gets back together. Which, by the way, is the beauty of this type of story. I’m not reading War and Peace here, I just want to read a cheesy love story, gosh darn it.
However, the rise of BookTok brought light to the common themes and tropes that romance novels often use, turning them into something readers could chat about and compare online. Tropes like “slow burn,” “fake dating,” and “forced proximity” became entire genres of content, where creators rank and categorize their favourite romances. This revival gave tropes new cultural relevance, turning them into hashtags and recommendation systems.
Tropes, at their core, are easy to sell and recommend which is exactly why they work. Now do not be mistaken, my issue doesn’t lie with the trope itself. I love it when someone is torn between two brothers as much as the next girl. The problem in publishing is that every book now is being pitched by its trope.
Picture this situation, one that actually happened to me. I go to the bookstore. I find the perfect cartoon-outline romance book cover (you know the one). I flip the book over to get a general idea of what it’s about. But lo and behold, the blurb reads: “This hot new enemies-to-lovers has our sunshine heroine forced to work with the grumpiest man on earth in a tiny coastal town that may or may not have a massive secret.”
That’s it. No plot, no intrigue, just the promise of mid-level banter and maybe a traumatic backstory.
It feels like publishers have lost the art of description and replaced it with hot, trendy buzzwords. I used to pick up a book because it had characters that intrigued me or a world to explore. Now it feels like I’m reading a menu from a restaurant that has had the same geriatric owner for the past 15 years. I like knowing what I’m getting into, but when every book feels like a viral trend in paperback form, it stops feeling like a fun story and starts feeling like a marketing plan with smut.
And honestly, this shift really speaks to where our culture is right now. Everything needs to be aesthetic, brandable and perfectly curated to fit within a marketable ideal. If it will go viral on TikTok, it will get published. It’s like when songs have lyrics written purely to become a trending sound or a choreographed dance associated with it. Capitalism isn’t cute, y’all. I just want to read my book without feeling like I should also be filming a cozy reading vlog with a Hello Fresh ad baked in.
Tropes used to be crucial to the charm of romance novels; they were reliable for a good time. But publishers have pushed it too far and started monetizing comfort. They know these trends will sell, so why take a risk and change it up? When an entire industry revolves around familiar beats, we lose the creativity and excitement that should come from reading.
I don’t think the solution is to abandon tropes altogether. In fact, that would be a sad life to live. But maybe we can start asking for a little bit more. Perhaps the small-town bakery was never meant to sell pies again. Maybe the hotel can have two beds instead of one. Let a love story be surprising again. Because tropes should be a little flavour, not the whole meal.
Until then, I’ll still be here in the romance isle, looking for my next read that will inevitably feature a brooding man and his just as irritated basset hound.