What is Dark Romance and Why is BookTok Obsessed With It?

BookTok has become a crucial part of the modern publishing world, with its devoted users now powerful enough to make or break a novel through their enthusiasm alone. The vast spectrum of literature lovers on TikTok has helped to elevate many writers to the status of best-sellers, from Colleen Hoover to Taylor Jenkins Reid to Ali Hazelwood. There’s a solid chance your local bookshop has a “TikTok Made Me Buy It” display in-store. And the latest additions to those tables are probably a bit less peppy than the dominant trend of cartoon covers and sweetheart shenanigans. Indeed, romance is getting dark.

The name “dark romance” offers its own succinct definition of the genre. It’s a field of romantic stories where the themes and content are far more adult and taboo-busting than is generally seen in mainstream fare. If traditional romance is defined by its happy endings and declarations of love winning over all else, its shadowy sibling is more willing to push the boundaries of what actually counts as love. You tend to know a dark romance when you see one. The covers are typically black or red, with titles like Twisted Love, Forbidden, Hooked, Scarred, Deviant King, and so on. Dark romance books often contain stories about abduction and kidnapping or play around with BDSM and blur the lines of consent. Emotions are high, as is the sexual content. The heroes are anything but, often occupying roles in criminal underworlds such as motorcycle gangs and the mafia. Some are outright killers. Morality is optional, but pleasure is not.

The subgenre has seen a dramatic rise in support in recent years, with TikTok videos using the hashtag receiving hundreds of thousands, and occasionally millions, of views. The aesthetic of these clips is similar to the books themselves: a Gothic color palate, possessive hotties with dark pasts, roses everywhere. Dark romance lovers have sent books like Haunting Adeline by H.D. Carlton, a stalker romance featuring graphic violence and rape, soaring up the Amazon best-seller charts and inspired levels of Discourse that are overwhelming even by BookTok standards. It’s simultaneously a surprising development for the mainstream popularity of the romance world and extremely predictable for those who were paying attention.

Stories of all-consuming obsession are appealing to many romance readers for a reason. The safe space the genre offers allows readers and writers alike to wholly delve into their oft-derided desires in ways that society tends to denigrate. It’s very common to see warnings for “dubious consent” and non-consensual sex” in these books, with the latter being a highly euphemistic way to talk about rape. Degradation is a familiar trope, as are themes of hardcore dominance and submission that go well beyond what was considered scandalous in 50 Shades of Grey. The basic idea is that almost anything can be sourced for pleasure, and if the rest of the romance genre won’t allow for that, the dark side must step in.

Kink-shaming is the default mode in life and many are all too quick to scold the mere concept of a sexual fantasy. A lot of dark romance is simply taking what the more mainstream parts of the genre do and dragging them out to their most logical conclusion. Consider stuff like Twilight or 50  Shades of Grey, its fanfiction spinoff, which both centered on a manic passion that took over every aspect of the lovers’ lives. The works of Colleen Hoover, the current reigning queen of BookTok, are firmly rooted in the ethos of dark romance with their soap opera plots and hyper-emotional heroes with troubled pasts. These stories talk of love not only as the most important thing in the world but as something worth destroying the planet for. It’s over-the-top but the emotions aren’t. Everyone can relate on some level to that sensation.

Dark romance’s kinks have their roots in romance’s birth as a publishing phenomenon. The earliest examples of what we now consider modern romance often dealt with stories where total submission to an enigmatic and potentially dangerous man was the hook for readers. Many of the classic historical novels in the 1970s and ‘80s that paved the way for what we know the genre to be in 2023 embodied traits that wouldn’t look out of place in something like Haunting Adeline, mainly “noncon.” Titles like The Flame and the Flower, often crowned the first modern romance, centered on virgin heroines who were straight-up raped by the hero, who was brutish and alpha and seen as in charge of a woman’s sexuality. The notion of a sexually forward woman was so unacceptable that it seemed more sensible to have the Byron-esque lover take the reins and show her how it’s done, whether she wanted them to or not. Mercifully, attitudes have changed, as have the laws (including those that allowed marital rape for huge swaths of the 20th century.) Romance covers a greater swath of ideas and feminine control. That allure of the early days, however, remains for some readers, and the mantle has been adopted more thoroughly by dark romance than current historical romance writers. 

The boundaries that dark romance can kick down also reveal the ones that are, inadvertently or otherwise, reinforced. This is a subgenre that is almost entirely white and straight, exposing the ways that power dynamics are baked into race and sexuality. A mafioso who thinks “no” means “yes” can be a dark romance hero, yet men of color of any kind are shoved to the sidelines. Dark romance also has a habit of revealing a systemic ignorance, to put it kindly, that has long plagued the genre. This past month, best-selling author Tillie Cole faced backlash over one of her novels which featured a murderous Klansman as the romantic hero, with his lover being the daughter of a Mexican cartel leader. Cole eventually pulled the book from sale, claiming she hadn’t meant to offend and was always learning to do better, but it’s hard to justify the mindset that leads one to think of a KKK member being both alluring and redeemable.

The most common complaint that dark romance faces is that it normalizes abuse, fetishizing it in a manner that could be a danger for readers, especially young ones. Dark romance is most visible on TikTok a platform primarily populated by teens who often find books like these ones recommended by the almighty algorithm. This is a complaint that romance readers have been hearing for decades, maybe even centuries when pulps like Pamela were blamed for all manner of societal disarray. There is a thesis or 500 to be written on how pop culture shapes our perceptions of sex and consent. You could argue that 50 Shades’ misogyny and serious failings in depicting BDSM weren’t harmful, but when it’s the only representation that community gets in mainstream pop culture, you can’t overlook how skewed perceptions can become. Many dark romance books come with content warnings to let readers know up front what to expect (a practice that, in my opinion, should be adopted across publishing.) These books are not for everyone, and having dark fantasies does not mean you automatically consent to such things in your day-to-day life. But then you see an author turning a murdering member of the Klu Klux Klan into an object of desire. At what point does “your kink is not my kink” fall apart as an excuse? Right about there, I would say.

The endings of dark romances can challenge what it means to have a happy ending, which is a non-negotiable requirement of the entire genre. Sure, these books still typically end with the two main characters getting together, but love doesn’t save everything or everyone. Sometimes, there’s no redemption, even for a man who engages in organized crime, rape, or murder. That’s a lot for some readers to take, but for others, it’s the entire point. Life doesn’t always have a happy ending, so finding passion in the hopeless is an enthralling alternative. After reading a dark romance, you get to turn on the light. It’s not for everyone, but for those who want it, this is the ultimate exploration of desire, and there’s magic in that we can all appreciate. Just don’t put any more Klansmen in these books, guys.

Kayleigh Donaldson is a critic and pop culture writer for Pajiba.com. Her work can also be found on IGN, Slashfilm, Uproxx, Little White Lies, Vulture, Roger Ebert, and other publications. She lives in Dundee.