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Romance novels aren't just what I write, edit, and plot for work. They're also what I turn to in times of comfort, especially when I'm in the hospital.
Like many people with a bingo card's-worth of chronic conditions, I spend a lot of time in hospitals. Sometimes it's for routine appointments or scheduled scans, and sometimes it's for unplanned visits in A&E that eat up my weekends. And every time, without a doubt, I pack (or get my partner to pack, depending on my level of packing ability at the time) a romance novel.
Whether it's paperback, hardback, Kindle, or audiobook (and if it's the last two, I also pack a charger, to make sure I don't run out of Kindle/phone batter), if I'm going to be somewhere medical, I've always got at least one romance novel on me when I step through those automatic doors and into the antiseptic-scented halls of whatever medical department I'm seeing that week.
Why? Well, not only do I need entertainment to get me through the waiting period before my appointment, but I need hope. Because being sick is scary, even when the nurses I interact with are wonderful, the doctors are understanding, and the care is free (thank you, NHS!). I need comfort, too.
And there is nothing, and I mean nothing, more comforting than picking up a romance novel and knowing that at the end, things will work. It dims the fluorescent lights, quiets the beeps of monitors and conversation, soothes my frazzled nerves. Every single time. I pull out the book, and a kind of magic happens. Sure, I'm still in a hospital, but I'm also in my own private, safe world. A world with a guaranteed happy ending.
I know the rebuttals to romance as a genre. The questions of "But doesn't it get repetitive? All those happy endings? All those stories written the same way?" The arguments that it's fluff, not worthy of study or merit.
But look, having read a floppity jillion of these novels, edited many, and written lots, I can say with absolute certainty: no, it doesn't get old reading these stories. That some of them are fluffy in the best way, the way readers want them to be, and that the genre as a whole produces literally thousands of books worthy of study and merit.
And my reasons for the repetition claim?
You can't have too much of a good thing. You can't have too many stories where you as a reader don't know the details of the characters' journeys through their wounds and toward each other, but do know that no matter what, those journeys will end in an emotionally satisfying and uplifting way that heals any strife and pain the journey may have caused them as a characters, and you as a reader.
The emotional journey you embark on as a reader when you open a romance novel never gets old. It never gets tiring to read two or more characters fight for each other, love each other, respect each other, and build a sustainable happily ever after together.
And, not to put too fine a point on it, but there are SO MANY romance novels out there. If I read 50 contemporaries and decide that I want that same feeling I get with every romance novel, but in a different setting, and with some aliens thrown in, I can hop over to sci-fi romance. If I want to read about a time I know little about, I head to historical romance. Or maybe I want to read about two people on an emotional journey that includes a lot of sex, so I buy some erotic romance. The list goes on, the sub-genres are seemingly infinite—they aren't technically, for the record, but between sub-genres, niches, tropes, and microtropes, there is LITERALLY a romance novel for every mood.
I will NEVER run out of romance novels to comfort me, to throw into my hospital go-bag along with my refillable water bottle, some snacks, cozy socks, a phone charger, my list of prescriptions, and headphones.
Romance novels give me the dose of hope I need to get through another round of tests, another difficult diagnosis, another twelve hours in A&E. Chloe Liese's books are among my favourites, especially to listen to; I get lost in her quiet, powerful stories about the Bergman brothers and their partners, many of whom are struggling with conditions like my own. Penny Reid is also a favorite, especially the Knitting in the City series, where the close female friendships are as much a draw as the romance arcs. And Talia Hibbert's joy-filled, banter-stuffed rom-coms have characters so vividly written that it feels like they're sitting next to me, reciting their lines and reminding me to be brave.
Sometimes, I even save books specifically for hospital appointments, knowing the excitement of cracking open the literal or metaphorical spine of a long-awaited title will soothe the sting of steroid or blood test needles.
As as that bit about fluff? Yes, some romance novels are fluffy. Intentionally, and for good reason. Sometimes, readers don't want stories with lots of conflict. They want an easy journey with lots of love and probably some laughs. And there is nothing wrong with that.
The sheer breadth of types of romance novels makes it worthy of a closer, say more academic, look, too. Because it's a genre that truly caters to its readers. That I'm able to find multiple romance novels featuring heroines and heroes with chronic pain, interstitial cystitis, fibromyalgia, and seizures like me is alone proof of this. But that I can also be in the mood for a very low stakes cozy fantasy friends-to-lovers romance featuring an orc (a very specific request) and find it (A Little Luck by J.A. Collignon)?! That's pretty amazing.
So stick a romance novel in your own bag next time you're going somewhere or doing something difficult. Gift yourself a little hope and comfort in book form. You won't regret it. I certainly never do. And the next time someone tries to snub the genre in front of you, tell them what I do: there's a romance novel for everyone, and the romance genre is for everyone.
Until next post, happy reading and writing!