In Bed with Dragons: my affair with romantasy.

On escapism, arousal, and chasing dopamine faeries.

I resisted for so long. An unlikely candidate for the genre at large, I’m usually into literary fiction and philosophical poetry. But it started last December on holidays. Struggling to wind down after a frantic few weeks, I needed a page-turner as soothing balm for the burnout of my racing mind.

A friend whose artistic opinion I mostly respect (sorry Adam) had been talking about Fourth Wing for months. I heard there were dragons. And from somewhere buried deep in my childhood, memories rushed in of Tolkien, and The Mists of Avalon, and bedroom walls covered in those 90’s calendars of wizards and She-Ra riding fairy-floss hued unicorns. The little fantasy loving part of me thought yes, this will be just the remedy.

The Empyrean dragon smut was perfect for sleepy vacay afternoons. But upon returning home, I didn’t stop.

Photo by Ramsay Taplin

I knew it was serious when the algorithm found me. In a particularly peaky chapter of ACOTAR Book 2 (or I believe they say ACOMAF), I regrettably googled ‘night court aesthetic’. Nek minute my feed is all suggested reels of Rhysand and the ‘bat boys’ topless and glistening. (Though I’m a Cassian girl, truth be told, but the algorithm didn’t know that then).

That series doesn’t even have dragons in it. And let’s just say the writing isn’t exactly Dickensian. And yet, five books later, and only as many weeks back from holidays, I was neck deep in romantasy. Recommending them to girlfriends and monopolising conversations over each book’s new revelations. Drowning or waving?

I pondered why, as an intellectual grown woman, I am willing to give hours, nay, days of my precious time to sit at home in a stained nightie drinking camomile tea and getting quietly titillated by dragon smut written for 20 year olds?

So for those of you curious, or perhaps in similar situationships, here are my answers.

1. Escapism

I don’t need to tell y’all that it’s a lot out there right now (leans back with sweeping hand gesture). And goodness knows we all need a break sometimes. I’m not about to say these books are a great source of self care, but… wait a minute, yes I am.

As we go about the important work of crafting a life of contribution, and attempting to save future generations and the planet from impending social and environmental collapse (assuming you’re into that kind of thing), we can get a tad overwhelmed.

Our nervous systems get stuck in sympathetic overdrive when exposed to ongoing stressors without adequate time for down-regulation, (my mode of choice is the freeze response). We all need to pay attention to something that’s not the news for awhile. Gardening is great, nature walks even better, and some days, staying in bed with an engrossing book is just what the doctor ordered.

I would place romantasy novels a good few points above Netflix on the healthy escapism scale (I mean, ‘Binge’, c’mon, you’re not even trying to pretend we’re in control anymore). And reading anything scores a hell of a lot higher than scrolling on instagram to ‘wind down’. I rationalise it because these books keep me off my phone, encourage prolonged concentration, build focus, and stimulate imagination. This only works of course when you maintain a willingness to engage in the real world between chapters.

2. Arousal

Renowned sex therapist Esther Perel describes how intimacy is different from passion. Intimacy is built over time through closeness, connection, and trust. But passion is fuelled by the unknown; it feeds on danger, risk, and the forbidden. The women who write these books know this.

Many of you may already know, that in long-term monogamous relationships passion can become elusive. Not for lack of love, but for the lack of mystery that ensues from washing each other’s dirty underpants for decades. When Esther Perel talks about the reasons people cheat, she suggests that what they are really pursuing is less about desire, and more about longing for the feeling of aliveness. And to keep the fire alive we must tightrope the line between intimacy and adventure, security and mystery. So maybe these books are an easy way to get vicariously excited again.

“It's our imagination that is responsible for love, not the other person." -Marcel Proust

Where else in popular culture do we find explicit sources of female arousal that aren’t gross? The majority of romantasy smut scenes portray characters having a fabulous time with consensual sex (far from the broody S&M we got in Fifty Shades). They remind us that sex can be enjoyable, and hot, and hey, maybe I want it more often as well. None of the friends I’ve talked to enjoy watching porn. But reading it? Well…

Another gem by Ramsay Taplin

3. Dopamine

The author of Dopamine Nation, Dr. Anna Lembke, is an expert on addiction. She speaks about being personally hooked on romance novels in her early 40s. What constitutes addiction? For her, it’s any kind of compulsive consumption. And in her experience, these kinds of books serve as socially sanctioned pornography for women.

Like with any good addiction, the reward centres in our brain become moulded to need more of the pleasure-inducing activity to obtain the hit we seek. And the drug in this case, is delivered not by needle or nostril, but by narrative. These authors are masters of keeping us hanging. They serve up the sex, or the plot twist, or the long awaited reveal at the perfectly formulaic moment in each book (except for ACOFS, what happened there?!).

This kind of consumption only becomes an issue when it interferes in the ability to live your everyday life. Considering turning down long-awaited events to sit at home with Onyx Storm? Borderline. Hiding what you’re reading from others then lying about how long you stayed up to finish it? Problem. Removing the source of the addiction and seeing what happens is a great experiment.

You’re probably wondering about this photoshoot with Ramsay Taplin by now…

So what did I do?

Well, after finishing all three of Rebecca Yarros’ dragon series, and all five of Sarah J. Maas’ sexy faerie tales, it was late Feb. My work at the studio was ramping back up, and uni semester began. I replaced chapters on fellatio in the house of wind with peer-reviewed articles on clinical interventions for complex trauma. The comedown only lasted a few days. My algorithms suggested the Throne of Glass series, but google told me it was far less spicy, so why bother.

Hence, I have escaped for now. That is of course until the next book in each series comes out. At which point I may vanish for a week, curl up on the couch with toast crumbs on my nightie, and happily get served fan art of Cassian carrying a very large sword.

💋