As summer continues to pass us by, I am finally able to work through the large pile of novels I have accumulated throughout the year which were not Literature course texts. Course texts have their merits, but nothing beats disappearing into a novel that was written to be enjoyed – books that were neither written to reflect the trials and tribulations of the time, nor to reveal a harrowing reality to a reader, nor to communicate the author’s belief on what the meaning of life is.
Of course, novels that aim to tell readers something important aren’t to be dismissed. However, this article is about the likes of Cassandra Clare, Sarah J Maas, or Danielle Steel. Books that take readers on a faster-paced journey than a 19th-century novel does.
Throughout my life, especially as I entered my teenage years, I found myself embarrassed by my love of books written for young women, but that didn’t stop me adoring them. I fell victim to the Katniss Everdeen braid, cackled at the musings of Rick Riordan (especially Percy and Annabeth’s love story), and found myself transfixed by the demi world of Shadowhunters, vampires, werewolves and faeries. This shame only became greater as I enrolled in a double-literature course, where I would blatantly lie to people and act as though I was a connoisseur of classic literature. I wasn’t! Albeit, I’ve read a few, I’ve enjoyed a few, but I have always preferred YA Fantasy and Romance. With the advent of BookTok, I see more and more people claiming intellectual superiority because they don’t enjoy books written for teenage girls or young women.
Whilst I could go on about how damaging this is, I will instead unapologetically discuss some of my favourite ‘beach reads’ and fantasy books I have read this summer in an attempt to heal my inner 14-year-old.
For instance, Thrones of Glass. I know that Maas’ reputation precedes her. I know she is widely recognised for her explicit novels where faeries have rather intense intercourse that ‘drowns out the screams of the dying’ around them. By contrast, Thrones of Glass, as a series, is rather tame, featuring a troupe of recognisable fantasy characters.
We have a lost princess, a fae warrior, a prince who resents his dad, a surly Captain of the Guard and a courtesan who gets very excited over chocolate. I would argue the core of this series isn’t the main character’s relationships with men, but the relationships she forges with women, despite the attempts men make to discourage this. In book one she befriends Princess Nehemia, a friendship that ends in Aelin finding the strength to claim back not only her name but her birthright (no commentary on the morality of monarchy or I would be here all day).
In other books in the series, she realises that courtesan Lysandra was not to be seen as competition to win the favour of men, but a comrade who understands girlhood just like Aelin does. Maas introduces a coven of brutal, non-human warrior witches, and readers get to see them wrestle with kindness and vulnerability and their bond with each other.
We see the same thing in any Cassandra Clare book: the fantasy-based plot of defeating a ‘big bad’ and saving the world from demonic ruin is often nowhere near as compelling as her ensemble cast, who befriend, fall in love and hate with as much passion as her readers do. Despite them rarely being human, Clare’s clear-cut focus on humanity and the importance of love and friendship define her novels (as well as her dedication to reminding readers of the importance of fiction and art). Clare’s novels feature multiple POVs, but you can feel her love for her female characters radiating off the page. Clary Fairchild is four foot eleven and braver than a seven-foot warrior; eighteenth-century heroine Tessa Gray defies all expectations of her gender by refusing to put down novels; Emma Carstairs owns her bizarre sense of humour and finds that the friendships she has with women are far more satisfying than the men that try to court her.
There is a theme here. These novels that people (typically men) shame women for are the ones that feature (not even necessarily prioritise) complex relationships between women.
Perhaps it is the notion that if you don’t understand something or don’t see that it directly relates to you, it must not be worth your or anyone’s time. To believe that books written with young women and girls in mind must also lack emotional depth is (at best) confusing because it would suggest that young girls and women don’t prioritise these things. To which I ask, have you ever spoken to one of these girls? Young girls are some of the most passionate people I have ever met. Think recently to the Barbie premiere, where girls were donning their best pinks and flooding to the cinema to watch a think-piece about the place of girlhood in patriarchy. Young girls are the ones that catch up with old friends and spare no details on the updates they give one another. Young girls are loud in their adoration of music, art, and literature and should be taken as seriously as their male counterparts. Truly, what is different from a girl being excited about an upcoming concert than a boy being excited about an upcoming album? It may be nicer to see a young girl excited to go out with her friends or read a new book than a young boy excited for an album made by artists that refer to women as bitches and brag about how brutal their sex lives are.
Novels made for women and young girls aren’t anything to be embarrassed about. They are to be celebrated. What is wrong with authors writing complex female friendships, girls learning that bravery may be painful but always worth it, that the walk home may be fraught but must be done with their heads held high? Men have had these stories since the dawn of time (see The Odyssey) and have never been mocked for it. It is time women are offered the same courtesy.
Image “so many romance novels” by iBjorn is licensed under CC BY-SA 2.0.