[dropcap]S[/dropcap]ex sells. It sells in airport kiosks and the aisles of supermarkets. It sells to your wrinkled fifth-class teacher and to your fourteen year-old sister. With the rise of e-books and online publishing, it sells in your bedroom, your kitchen, across Starbucks Wi-Fi. The world of romance novels represents a €1.1 billion industry, hoisting up more than 50% of the commercial market, dropkicking literary fiction and leaving crime in the dust. In an age when people are throwing tearful wakes for the book industry, the unrelenting success of the romance novel is worth a soulful, lusty look.

Traditional publishers, who initially cowered at some of the more risqué fantasies explored in erotic fiction, are perking their ears. Authors are proving that their readers are ready for writing filthy enough to merit bleach baths by independently establishing loyal fan bases online, a platform which affords both readers and writers the opportunity to explore their interests in an environment that is titillating, interactive, and most importantly discreet. Alessandra Torre self-published her erotic thriller Blindfolded Innocence and within weeks was selling 2,000 copies a day online. Within months, she was fielding calls from agents with foaming mouths. While much has been said about the middle-class suburbanites who sneak into the world of bondage through the written word, TCD’s Dr. Jarlath Killeen links the phenomena to the idea that we are “living in a postmodern age of dislocation from the body”. As a result, “many seek to reconnect to the body in powerfully (possibly cathartic) ways […] This is a complex issue, and a controversial one, but the attempt to reconnect with physicality, with fundamental bodily experiences, probably has a great deal to do with it, so much so that in many ways these experiences could be said to function as religious substitutes.”

Despite the variety evident within the genre and its overwhelming popularity, the phrase “romance novel” is still treated in the literary world with snobbish derision, more often than not prefaced by “trashy” and tailed with “guilty pleasure”. Writers of romance are famous for veiling their personas in pen names, and readers stuff tell-tale covers deep within their bags. Naomi Rea, a student in her final year of English Literature, enjoys sneaking a good romance novel in between theory-dense course reading, yet describes them as “cringe-worthy if you were ever to share what you were reading with anyone”. While erotica has recently cannonballed into the mainstream, it has been received with the breathy, giggling spirit of twelve-year-olds at a sleepover.

Why has romance spent its decades-long reign on top of the literary world cloaked in embarrassment? Well, the books themselves are stereotyped as being formulaic and unrealistic. Critics argue that they sacrifice writing quality for steamy sex scenes, which often border on uncomfortable hilarity. And it is a genre strongly associated with women, written by and primarily for “the fairer sex”. Killeen explains that, “The hard-core pornography which dominates the market appeals (still) mostly to a male market, both straight and gay — though the volume of women consuming pornography (or admitting to consuming pornography) is growing. Erotica is marketed towards women.”

It is unsurprising that a genre favoured by women is dominating the book market in light of the fact that statistically, women read more than men. Yet the implicit assumption that what women write and what women read is of less value than genres dominated by their male counterparts is nestled beneath many of the scoffing remarks that so often greet romance novels. Nonetheless women read, and they read widely, and many women — well-read women with PhDs in Literature, who lecture in universities and run Fortune 500 companies — seek out romance novels and the cushy world they create, an alternative universe in which women are free to express and fulfil their sexual desire, reaping rewards rather than punishment. In romance novels, underwear is lacy and figure-flattering, and everyone comes at the same time. This world and the relationships which blossom within it are unlikely but aspirational, dubious but hopeful.

This formulaic aspect is perhaps one of the biggest criticisms the genre faces. However, it is absolutely crucial to its success. As the unlikely detective solves the crime, so too does our heroine find everlasting love. Readers will even tend to cocoon themselves within the canon of a single author, with writers such as Danielle Steele raking in multi-millions per year from the books she cranks out like a machine. As publishing revenues fall off a cliff, this predictability is more important than ever to traditional publishers. An allegiance to formula guarantees an established romance novelist a print run of 30,000 copies, whereas a writer of literary fiction might squeak out 5, maybe 9K. However, the chorus yet again rings out that e-books are changing the game, for this genre perhaps more positively than any other.

The rise of e-books has wed romance and erotica in beautiful matrimony. Gone is the sniggering teenaged shop clerk ringing up your purchase at the till. Banished are the pesky logistics of traditional publishing. A genre characterised by writers who produce books at a frenzied pace to meet the demands of readers who snap them up just as quickly finds itself jacked-up gleefully on steroids when thrown into the ring with online publishing. Through online writing communities such as Wattpad, writers can post their in-progress stories for immediate gratification from readers who encourage updates as frequently as once a day. It also affords romance writers the opportunity to smash the stereotypes with little at stake. Despite the fact that strong associations still exist with the nubile young virgin with a bosom so violently heaving that it tears the buttons of her dress, contemporary romance is more obviously becoming feminist literature. Through the freedom of online publishing there is increasing room for a break from the norm. As the genre evolves to satisfy its readership, there has been a shift away from heroines in need of a brawny hero (and their rollicking deflowering on beds of roses) towards heroines of all types, as well as more racy erotic literature. Online erotic romances have proven almost unfathomably popular, racking up millions of page hits and, in the case of books instantly self-published on completion, cold, hard sales. While still only a small fragment of the wider industry, lines are becoming increasingly blurred between erotica and the wider romance genre. “In many ways,” says Killeen, “erotic fiction would differ from many contemporary romance novels simply by having more (and a bit more graphic) sex, but the focus on relationships would be the same — the sex serves a relationship (which it doesn’t tend to do in more straightforward pornography) […] As far as the romance community is concerned, the love story remains the most important element even in ‘erotic romance’.”

Out of the thousands published each year, some romance novels are beautifully written, and some are shamefully terrible. Some are chaste enough for a Mormon audience and dirty enough to make an experienced porn actress blush. They are feisty and progressive, and occasionally problematic. But readers are consuming them with a voracious appetite. In a world in which sexuality is both stigmatised and placed on a pedestal, it is not difficult to see why romances have lasting appeal.