I love porn — or so I’m told.
I’m crazy about a popular literary genre known in polite company as ‘romantasy‘ — or a blend of romance and fantasy.
Think slutty female dragonslayers, studly time-traveling Vikings, all the smut you can handle — these spicy titles are taking over, enabled by politicians, celebrities and by social media, where millions of fans gather to debate the latest offerings. It’s making critics furious — while generating billions of dollars in sales.
Back on Inauguration Day 2025, to cope with Trump’s 2024 presidential win, Democratic House candidate Denise Powell urged supporters of Women Who Run Nebraska PAC to “read some fairy smut. I’m super into that right now.”
“Wicked” superstar Cynthia Erivo proudly expressed her love for the mega-popular romantasy book, “Fourth Wing,” on an episode of The Comment Section podcast.
“Let’s be honest — it’s good,” she said of the best-selling Rebecca Yarros series.
And this smut boom doesn’t seem to be slowing down anytime soon.
Last year, the romantasy genre brought in almost a billion dollars in sales, a 7% increase from 2024, according to data analytics firm Circana.
But, like shushing librarians at a music festival, a slew of self-styled intellectuals are screaming into the wind, telling anyone who will listen that we romantasy fans are debasing ourselves with what they refer to as “book porn.”
They scoff at popular titles like “The Dragon’s Bride” and “Stalked by the Kraken.” They tell us these aren’t real reading.
Sell that snobbery someplace else — I’ll be too busy shamelessly flipping through the pages of the latest titles recommended on BookTok, a very specific, sometimes controversial community on TikTok where influencers and users post reviews, recommendations, and reactions to things they’ve just read.
BookTok has become a genuine force in publishing. When a book takes off with this crowd, it tends to see a major sales boost — often climbing bestseller lists soon after.
Romantasy is huge among followers of the sprawling global social media community — myself included.
In my free time, I scroll through social media videos where five-star reviews are often accompanied by five red pepper emojis, the digital signal for “spice level.” It’s a shorthand any BookToker understands — the more peppers, the raunchier the read.
No one is under any illusion — a lot of these recommendations are straight up trash of the very best kind, and people can’t put the books down.
You’d think the more delicate types would love the fact that Americans are reading — according to a recent YouGov poll, precisely 40% of us read exactly zero books in 2025.
But no — apparently, what we’re reading isn’t high-minded enough, and we must all be shamed.
First of all, they’re wrong to write these books off as porn. Your typical title will encompass so much more than just a bunch of sex scenes; one of the most popular styles is the “slow burn” romance — where the tension is allowed to build a lot longer than in your typical actual porn clip, which, if that’s all readers like me wanted, is only a tap or two away on our phones.
These books have plots, sometimes incredible ones, with rich character development. So what if the heroine has sex — she’s not allowed?
I find myself thinking about the question posed by the protagonist, AJ, in Emma Brodie’s novel “Into the Blue” — a hot-and-heavy title that went viral on BookTok after actress Reese Witherspoon picked it for her online book club.
“Can art not be cerebral and hot?”
Apparently it can’t, according to the self-appointed morals cops who have lately turned BookTok into a bazaar of bizarre negativity.
We so-called slatterns can’t escape the judgement of these insufferable people. They call us degenerates, or even “gooners” (an internet slang term typically reserved for people obsessed with sexual content) and “spicy women” who love sexy reads because nobody’s “ever going to do that to you in your sad little non-adventurous life.” We’re told the books are embarrassing and basic, just like us misguided readers.
But isn’t this type of dismissal of a modern phenomenon just a rebrand of old-school elitism? A dig at women’s preferences disguised as cultural concern for pornography?
At a time when reading is in decline, why are we policing the fun people are having picking up books? I don’t want to read Charles Dickens after a long day. Maybe we aren’t reading to get smarter every single time; sometimes we read for entertainment, mystical worlds and the inspiring triumph of a happy ending.
And honestly, these books have served as my gateway back into more challenging reads. I’m sure I’m not the only one. Hand someone who has never read before a copy of “Moby Dick,” and they might never pick up a book again. Let people ease into the water.
In Jane Austen’s “Northanger Abbey,” specifically Chapter 5, the author provided a “defense of the novel” at a time when fiction was considered a “base” form of entertainment compared to poetry or history.
Austen’s narrator suggests we ignore the groans of reviewers and support the heroine’s love of fiction, claiming that novels are works “in which the greatest powers of the mind are displayed… the most thorough knowledge of human nature, and the loveliest effusions of wit and humor are conveyed to the world.”
Fast forward two centuries, and we are still fighting the same battle.
Honestly, if any art form with sex is now discounted, then the entire media industry is in trouble. If graphic content meant a piece of art couldn’t be “high caliber,” then television shows like “Game of Thrones” —where over half the viewership is male — wouldn’t be deemed television greatness (and it is).
Men consuming violent, creepy AI sexual slop or graphic comic books are just called “nerds” — yet women reading romance are degenerates. Make it make sense.
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