Emilia Banks interrogates the genre of ‘Romantasy’ and its manifestations of erotica through the female gaze. Yet to what extent are these stories truly liberating or yet another medium for internalizing shame?

Regarding the literature of my childhood, fantasy is a genre which stands distinctly in my mind. As a child, I engrossed myself in the fantasy worlds of fairies, elves, vampires and princesses saved from mystic beasts and evil queens. Eight-year-old me strained her eyes on my kindle till the early hours of the morning to finish whatever story had captured her attention at the time, falling asleep with my lamp still on and waking up disoriented when my mother would call for school in the morning

As a child, fantasy literature offered a refuge from the normalities of everyday life. It was a place in which you could temporarily escape the argument you had at school or the times tables homework you had due in the morning.

For me, and many others, fantasy was a defining genre of childhood. Reflecting on this, I understand why romance-fantasy, commonly known as ‘romantasy’, has become a defining genre of early womanhood. The demand for female-led erotica based in these far-away lands recalls the same desire to escape realism but reforms it into the yearnings of mature, sexually active women.

The romantasy genre is a romance sub-genre that utilises imaginary worlds and mythic characters and has contributed profusely to the re-popularisation of books and reading in the past few years. This has been facilitated specifically by social media like TikTok or YouTube. Central to this trend, a series recognisable to anyone who engages with book content, is the ‘A Court of Thorns and Roses’ (ACOTAR) series by Sarah. J. Maas, that has sold 13 million copies to date. Such a breakthrough by a female author, specifically into fantasy, is a feat achieved by few.

What is compelling about the work of Maas and other successful fantasy writers, notably Holly Black (author of ‘The Cruel Prince series) and Rebecca Yarros (Author of ‘The Empyrean’ series), is that their work is distinctly female led. Their stories are told by a woman and often a human protagonist. Such narratives are written by women, for women.

To suggest that it is novel to eroticise the creatures of myth and fantasy would be wholly misleading – ancient poets wrote of beautiful siren-creatures and the enchanted faerie lady. Yet, what is arguably unique to the act is its distinct use of ‘the female gaze’, as the objects of sexual desire in these stories are men. In reference specifically to Maas’ ‘ACOTAR’, the human protagonist’s sexual and romantic desires are elicited towards her male fantasy counterparts, thus, making men the sexual ‘other’. For Maas’ protagonist, men are the siren-like figures her family has warned her against, out to seduce her for their own gain.

The sexual desire elicited in these texts is partially due to this perceived otherness. There is a danger to the intimacy between characters that are from different worlds, a sexual interest provoked through the concept of the ‘other’. Many romantasy novels therefore subvert the expectations of the genre brought about by collections such as Tolkien’s ‘Lord of the Rings’, where women are the characters encountered in mystic lands, and never the protagonists.

In many ways, modern romantasy novels can be seen as distinctly liberating for women. There are few other genres that have had such popularity and dominated the market with markedly female narratives. In a society that tells women that they should sexualise themselves for others but never for themselves, romantasy achieves the opposite.

However, the sexual liberation represented by such texts does not exist in a void away from our wider cultural values. As much as romantasy literature is profound in its exploration of female-led erotica, markedly female narratives, and its ability to mitigate parameters against female fantasy authors, its sheer appeal reflects on a wider cultural homogeneity that puts constraints on female sexual autonomy.

Specifically, such literature can be viewed as a product of purity culture, and the pressure upon women to suppress their sexual desire. In reading erotic literature in a world of fantasy women are permitted to desire submission, masochism, or simply just sex – but only in this fantasy context that is not reflective of reality. As such, in making myth of intimacy, women can be sexual in a context that feels unreal, to detach their actualised desire onto fictionalised desire. Ultimately, Romantasy literature allows women to escape the notion that they are not liberated sexual beings.

In the same way that fantasy performed the act of escape for our childhood selves, modern romantasy texts allow us to escape our often-internalised shame towards female sexual pleasure that manifests from a culture that continues to shame women for their ‘body counts’ and sexual looseness.

This is not to say that you should put down that romantasy novel in the name of rejecting purity culture and fighting expectations around female sexuality, there is certainly something liberating in the act of consuming media that is written in the name of female pleasure. However, we must continue to be conscious of why, and how, certain media mitigates our feelings of shame towards pleasure and sex.