As an English Literature student, I began my reading journey with fanfiction. To some readers, that might sound like something I should be ashamed of—but I don't think it is.
Everyone is entitled to their own opinion, and I believe I have learned a great deal from reading fanfiction.
This blog is about why books that contain smut are so often dismissed as "porn." More importantly, it is about the judgment I have experienced as a reader.
. "I don't consider romance or contemporary novels to be literature. I don't read them. I only read classics like Dostoevsky, Kafka, and the like."
"I don't read romance or contemporary fiction. I only read classics like Dostoevsky and Kafka."
Wonderful. Please continue. I wasn't standing outside your house confiscating copies of Crime and Punishment.
What fascinates me is that after reading authors who spent entire novels exploring human complexity, empathy, alienation, and freedom, some readers still arrive at the conclusion that the greatest literary crime is... someone enjoying romance.
Kafka wrote about oppressive systems. Dostoevsky wrote about the contradictions of human nature. Yet somehow, the lesson people take away is, "Your bookshelf needs my approval."
It's almost poetic.
It's funny how people act as if classics are too refined for sex. Have we forgotten Lady Chatterley's Lover, Fanny Hill, or The Miller's Tale? Classics have been writing about sex, desire, adultery, and passion for centuries.
Apparently, if a dead author writes it, it's "a profound exploration of human sexuality." If a contemporary romance author does, it's "just porn."
The content hasn't changed nearly as much as people's willingness to respect it.
You can read every page Kafka and Dostoevsky ever wrote, but if you still believe you're entitled to police other people's bookshelves, you've collected their books—not their ideas.
2. "If you like romance, why don't you just read classic romance? Read Jane Austen, the Brontë sisters, Tolstoy... not modern romance."
I sincerely apologize for not possessing the extraordinary vocabulary apparently required to understand only classics. Perhaps one day I'll achieve that level of literary enlightenment where reading one genre automatically qualifies me to look down on another.
I have nothing against classics. In fact, I enjoy them. Jane Austen, the Brontë sisters, and many other classic authors have written remarkable stories. But why is it that the moment someone enjoys modern romance, they're told to abandon it and "graduate" to classics, as if reading were a school syllabus?
Here's a revolutionary idea: I can read Jane Austen and Emily Henry. I can enjoy Charlotte Brontë and Ali Hazelwood. Literature isn't a loyalty program where choosing one genre means forfeiting another.
3. "Modern romance books with smut are basically porn."
By that logic, every murder mystery is a step-by-step guide to committing murder. Every crime thriller is a manual for becoming a serial killer. Every courtroom drama is a law textbook. Every fantasy novel is evidence that dragons exist.
See how ridiculous that sounds?
The word porn gets thrown around so casually that it has almost lost its meaning.
Pornography isn't just an insult for books you don't approve of. It is a real industry with real people. It has faced serious criticism over exploitation, coercion, trafficking in some cases, and the existence of child sexual abuse material (CSAM)—crimes involving real victims.
And yet, people look at a fictional romance novel between consenting adult characters and confidently say, "It's basically the same thing."
No, it isn't.
One involves real human beings. The other involves fictional characters. One raises serious ethical and legal concerns. The other is a work of fiction.
You don't have to enjoy smut. You don't even have to read it. But if every book with an explicit scene is automatically "porn," then perhaps the problem isn't the book—it's the definition you're using.
Words matter. Especially when those words describe industries and crimes that have real victims.
It's interesting how explicit content is treated differently depending on the medium.
Game of Thrones contains nudity, explicit sex scenes, and violence, yet most discussions revolve around its politics, world-building, and characters—not simply, "It's porn."
Video games such as The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, Cyberpunk 2077, Baldur's Gate 3, Mass Effect, and Dragon Age include romance options and explicit or suggestive scenes. Yet they're praised for their storytelling, gameplay, and world-building.
So why is it that when a romance novel includes consensual intimacy, the entire book is suddenly reduced to one word?
Perhaps the problem isn't the existence of explicit content. Perhaps it's that romance novels—especially those written by and for women—are held to a different standard.
5 "You read dark romance? That's a red flag."
Yes, I started reading dark romance. And I hate to disappoint anyone expecting a simple answer, but dark romance is not merely a collection of hot billionaires, timid heroines, and dramatic staring contests in expensive penthouses. The genre often explores obsession, power, manipulation, trauma, moral ambiguity, revenge, fear, desire, and the darker corners of human psychology. It is called dark for a reason.
That doesn't mean every book in the genre is good, and it certainly doesn't mean every relationship portrayed in it is healthy. While reading, I have also come across books that disguise abuse as romance and present controlling or violent behavior as something desirable. Those stories deserve criticism.
Ironically, dark romance has not taught me to romanticize abuse; if anything, it has made me question how often abuse is normalized in real life. We grow up hearing phrases like, "He's mean because he likes you," "Jealousy is a sign of love," or "If they control you, they care about you." Many of us have encountered unhealthy dynamics outside of fiction long before we ever opened a dark romance novel.
Reading a story about a toxic relationship is not the same as wanting one. People watch crime dramas without becoming criminals and read tragedies without wishing for tragedy. Fiction allows us to explore fear, desire, conflict, and human flaws from a safe distance.
So no, my bookshelf is not a criminal record. It is simply a collection of stories—some beautiful, some disturbing, some thought-provoking, and some terrible. And perhaps that's what reading has always been: an opportunity to encounter different worlds while deciding for ourselves which values we carry into our own lives.
6. "There are some books that deserve criticism."
Yes, there are books I would never defend.
I will never justify stories that romanticize rape, child abuse, grooming, or any form of sexual violence. Fiction can explore these subjects, but there is a difference between portraying abuse and glorifying it.
If a book presents abuse as love, consent as optional, or exploitation as something desirable without any critical perspective, then it deserves to be questioned.
That doesn't mean every dark or disturbing book should be banned. Literature has always explored the darkest parts of humanity. But readers also have the right to criticize books that handle those subjects irresponsibly.
My issue has never been with criticism. My issue is with lazy criticism.
Read the book. Understand what it's trying to say. Then criticize it for what it actually is—not for the genre it belongs to.
Because if we're going to judge books, let's judge them fairly—not by the assumptions we've made before turning the first page.
7. "You're delusional because you read romance novels."
Let's start with the definition.
A delusion is a fixed false belief that a person continues to hold despite clear evidence that it isn't true. It's a psychological term—not an insult to throw at someone because they enjoy fiction.
Now, tell me—who's more delusional?
The person who reads about a ridiculously attractive billionaire, a mafia boss, or a prince and knows they're reading fiction...
...or the person who genuinely believes that every romance reader is looking for one in real life?
I've never finished a romance novel, closed the book, and thought, "Right. Time to find a six-foot-four mafia billionaire with a private jet."
That's not how fiction works.
I know the difference between fantasy and reality. That's precisely why I enjoy reading it.
Do I think every man will write me love letters, remember the little things, hold my hand when I'm overwhelmed, make me tea when I'm sick, listen to me for hours, communicate honestly, and fight for the relationship the way many fictional heroes do?
No.
I know life is far messier than fiction.
I'm not saying all men are incapable of love. I'm saying I haven't personally witnessed many relationships around me that reflect the kind of emotional effort, communication, tenderness, and mutual respect I enjoy reading about.
And maybe that's exactly why I read romance.
Not because I believe it's a blueprint for reality.
But because fiction allows us to explore hope, vulnerability, devotion, and emotional intimacy in a way that real life doesn't always provide.
People watch superhero films without expecting to fly.
People play video games without expecting to become assassins.
People read murder mysteries without planning a crime.
But somehow, when a woman reads romance, she's suddenly incapable of separating fiction from reality.
Now that sounds a little delusional.
AND YOU CAN ALWAYS SKIP THE SMUT!
 |
| Bye! |
