Pt. 3: The Man in Romantasy

The first thing to know about the man in romantasy is that he is competent. Competent in fighting. Competent in politics. And sexually, competent. Well, as an immortal dragon/faerie/vampire, he’s had 300 years to figure it out.

The story in romantasy is a story of distance closing. The man is at the pinnacle of the mountain. The woman sits at the base, staring up at him. But, by the end, she, too, has reached the pinnacle. They rule as equals, together, happily ever after.

But let’s back up.

At the start, the woman feels insecure. She is human in a supernatural world, disabled in an abled world, and physically smaller and weaker than anyone else. Society doubts she will survive, nevertheless lead their fight. But the crucial thing is that the man DOES believe in her.

In A Court of Mist and Fury

Again, that gaze raked over me. “What if you could stand against us – hold your own, a High Lady?”...“You want to save the mortal realm?” he asked. “Then become someone Prythian listens to. Become vital. Become a weapon. Because there might be a day, Feyre, when only you stand between the King of Hybern and your human family. And you do not want to be unprepared”

This is in contrast to the other guy in the love triangle, who says

You have no training in battle or weaponry. And even if I started training you today, it’d be years before you could hold your own on an immortal battlefield…So despite what he thinks you might be able to do, Feyre, I’m not going to have you anywhere near a battlefield

Every book features a well-meaning man who wants to limit the protagonist. In Fourth Wing, it is Dain. In The Serpent and the Wings of Night, it is Oraya’s father. The purpose of this character is to even further highlight the main man.

In response to my first romantasy essay, one of my friends emailed me their take on Ali Hazelwood’s STEM romances.

The fantasy is only in small part about the man — the fantasy is that that man stands up for the protagonist professionally, defending her against sexism and acknowledging and amplifying her achievements

The protagonist has a powerful man in her corner. In Pt 1, I talked about the training montage - getting up each day, getting kicked in the face, waking up to do it all over again. Directly or indirectly, the man is part of that training montage. (Rhysand teaches Feyrie to write. Xaden enforces Violet’s training).

“Aetos,” Xaden calls out from across the mat.

Dain’s head snaps up and his jaw locks.

“She could use a little less protection and a little more instruction.” Xaden stares Dain down until he nods.

The training furthers the fantasy of a man helping the woman achieve her goals, sometimes in risk to his own reputation. It also speaks dominance without saying it. It creates and builds tension. And it brings the two together.

For the first two-thirds of a romantasy, tension keeps building. (“But in a platonic way?” my editor interjects. “Not exactly”, I say. “He’s flirting with her, she knows he’s interested…But just maybe not in a relationship.”) Every time they get close to opening up, one of them pulls away.

But they keep getting closer. Monthly exchanges become weekly. He starts walking her to class. Then he is sent off and they are 2 thousand miles apart. Their life goes on. Suddenly, she’s injured. He flies to her, heart in his throat. She recovers. Class by class, she gets stronger. When they come together, they begin to solve the maze. They find the magical artifacts, uncover what leaders are hiding, and she comes up with a plan. And it’s in that dichotomy that deeper feelings emerge. For now, he is her best friend, partner-in-crime, and trusted confidante. And yet — he is also the leader of the movement. In public, he becomes a stranger who belongs to everyone else. And yet.
She can bring him to his knees.

At some level, every great story is a love story. This one comes slowly. It comes in his gaze, attention drawn to her. It comes when he crafts arrows for her, startling joy at her joy. It comes when he holds back his own physical desires in caution of hers. And the love comes because he is simultaneously so invulnerable — and simultaneously, so vulnerable.

—

But it's not real
And you don't exist
And I can't recall the last time I was kissed
- Ceilings

Somewhere right now, there is a teenage girl sitting in a brown Tudor home in the middle of the Midwest. And she is reading her first romantasy. And after that, she’ll read the sequel. And after that — a TikTok bestseller. And by the time she starts seriously dating in her twenties, her head will be filled with idealized romance. And these stories matter — because stories normalize behavior — they shape what feels like love and what feels like settling.

One story romantasy propagates is the fantasy of soulmates. In romantasy, there is none of the messiness of finding who you’re supposed to be with. If you know, you know. If you don’t know - well, it’s probably not your soulmate. But real life is complicated. And you don’t always know right away. Sometimes it takes years of being partners, growing together.

Another thing is the romanticization of charisma. Romantasy men are very charismatic. They are the center of the whirlpool - everyone in a radius subconsciously turns toward them. Charisma leaves a sheen that is its own kind of magic. And it can be very dangerous. In romantasies, the man is good. But by romanticizing charisma, and a man who oversteps boundaries of power to help a singularly exceptional woman – it prepares women to fall for it instead of steel against it.

And, additionally — as in most media, the men are all tall and muscular with lush hair and stark cheekbones.

In my free time, I like to imagine different ways of writing romantasy. One good example, I think, is Katabasis. Katabasis is technically a fantasy by R.F. Kuang. But it has a strong romance subplot. And while it is not my favorite fantasy persay — I love its romance. It reads as one long wedding vow addressed to her husband.

In Katabasis, Kuang addresses the lure of charisma, a powerful man, and how it ends up. The actual love interest starts as equal to the protagonist. And she describes him like this

The famous Peter Murdoch had overlong arms, overlong legs, and a wild bird’s nest of light brown hair under which sat a massive pair of wire spectacles. The lenses were very thick, which had the effect of making his brown eyes appear owlishly huge against his face. When he smiled his whole face split apart, revealing slightly uneven teeth. He looked like someone who wore a retainer. The overall effect was not unpleasant. He was decidedly no Greek god, and yet Alice could not stop staring at him.

I love this passage. The line “He looked like someone who wore a retainer” in particular is pretty great. It’s the type of line I want to steal for my own writing.

—

So what is the man in romantasy really about? In the modern day, there are still elements of the 1970s romances. The heroes are dominant, controlling, and have wealth and power. I think it would be good to have more diverse heroes and more storylines that address the allure of charisma. But, there are some improvements. The sexual encounters are now consensual. Additionally, in romantasies, the heroine earns her power and the story is about her growth. The man believes in the woman’s journey and is a supporting actor. He falls in love (with her beauty, talent, heart for the people) and he falls hard. Every day, he cannot help but prioritize her. He truly cares for her. He recognizes her as her equal. And together, they rule side by side. Happily ever after.

—

Addendum

It is the Fourth of July. We sit down at the local breakfast spot. Yes — for a city, Madison is still pretty quaint. One time, we came in, and the only people there were two men drinking coffees and recording a radio show. Today it is packed.

“So your next essay is on romance novels?” he asks.

I look down the long wooden table, craning my neck as the party next to us gets a heaping plate of eggs benedict… and are those sweet potato pancakes? Damn, smells like Thanksgiving.

“Yup”.

He leans forward then, eyes twinkling.

Oh no. He’s going to make me do some improv exercise. Or game. Or maybe create another in-tandem haiku.

“What if…you wrote your own novel?” he asks.

“Actually, that would be kind of fun”, I consider.

“Give me a scene!”, he gestures.

“Well, I was thinking”, I say playing along, “definitely the 90s”.

His face widens in surprise.

“I mean, I could set it in our time period. But audiences love education in romance novels. Think Bridgerton and the Regency period. And what says history more than…the 90s”, I deadpan.

He stifles a laugh, “That’s….that’s perfect! We got Nirvana! We got the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air! We got big hair and Sex and the City. Okay. Who’s your protoganist?”

I sigh. “Well, it has to be similar enough to me so I can write it. We all love a rural fantasy but my character probably has to be upper-middle class, educated, in her thirties.”

His eyes sparkle. “A computer programmer! During the dot-com boom!”

I continue, “Like a Bill and Melinda Gates fanfic! Without the divorce. Like what if he had never called her back, after he had asked her two weeks in advance for a date in a parking lot. And she met…a regular dude..”

“A guy working at Starbucks! And he was a little dopey. Like, he kept on saying the company would ‘make it big’, and everyone thought he was crazy. And maybe he had a hobby he liked to do on the side, too, like art…”

“Alright, you’ve convinced me”, I say. “I’ll do it. No tropes. A classic romance story. And it will be real.”