Every year, Valentine’s Day rolls around with its parade of pink hearts, boxes of chocolate, and silly cards being passed between the hands of elementary school students. It’s a lovely holiday, no matter what the anti-Hallmark crowd would like you to believe (is it a nonsense corporate holiday that encourages materialism? Sure! Should we be expressing affection to loved ones year round, rather than hyper-expressing it on one day? Also sure! But is it really a bad thing to spend some extra time on that affection once a year? Eh, I don’t think so). But not all of us can over-indulge in the saccharine without feeling a little woozy. Some of us might have had our fill on sweets—and some of us don’t have much of a sweet tooth at all. By industry standards, a book can only qualify for the romance section with a fundamental requirement: a happily-ever-after. And there is certainly an explosive market for that! But what if you’re bored of happily-ever-afters? What if your taste runs a little…darker?
If you feel like being put through the wringer emotionally, or you enjoy Suffering, you will probably have to get your thrills in the general fiction section. There is a wide, wide sea of love stories—or “love stories”—that don’t meet genre requirements for romance, but that doesn’t make them any less about love. It’s just that they might also be about toxic relationships. Or social class. Or obsession. Basically, the ugly underside of love; the ways it can go wrong. The romance genre might be the titan in the publishing industry, but sad, messy, and downright upsetting love stories are no slouch, either. We’ve already discussed the TikTok obsession with books like Song of Achilles; Colleen Hoover’s books are impossible to keep on the shelves; A Little Life is still sparking fierce debate on the literary value of endless trauma (author Hanya Yanagihara’s newest novel, To Paradise, is again causing a similar stir). People love to have feelings, even when they hurt!
Below are some recommendations that would never make it into the romance section of your local bookstore. In them you will find people in love, but it’s love that fails in one way or another—and they’re people we might not necessarily be rooting for! Arranged in order of least to most toxic, I give you: a different kind of Valentine’s book list!
A portrait of a relationship in a state of decline. Sometimes things just don’t work out, and there’s no dramatic reason behind it. Bryan Washington’s debut novel concerns Benson and Mike, an interracial couple living in Houston’s gentrifying Third Ward neighbourhood. Communication isn’t exactly their strong suit; they dance around the “what are we?” topic—a subject that, four years later, neither of them can bring themselves to openly discuss. Nor can they be honest with what they actually want, either with themselves or with each other. But when Mike impulsively decides to fly to Osaka to be with his estranged, dying father—leaving Benson at home with his mother Mitsuko—neither can avoid the question any longer. Memorial is a frustrating, intimately human study of a relationship that isn’t terrible but isn’t great. Washington’s dual perspective provides a nuanced analysis of the couple, and how issues of race (Benson is Black, Mike is Japanese), class, and, above all, family play large roles in their personal lives. The big, implicit question: is this relationship worth saving? Both Benson and Mike’s narrations are ambiguous, and Washington leaves any conclusions in the hands of the reader. Readers of a more romantic disposition might yearn for the two to work it out, while more practical readers might just want them to end it already.
Famously made into a movie starring a ridiculously gorgeous dress, Atonement is also known for a gut-punching, seismic narrative twist in the final act that leaves readers and viewers alike in a fugue state of despair. In 1930s England, Robbie and Cecilia are childhood friends advancing towards something more, just before the onset of World War II. Briony, Cecilia’s precocious and imaginative younger sister, puts a stop to that: after witnessing what she believes to be a crime, Briony implicates Robbie in an accusation that will alter the course of all three of their lives. Choosing war rather than prison, Robbie is shipped off to the frontlines. Cecilia and Briony also get involved with the war effort, but are no longer speaking. As the story goes on, Briony moves toward making amendments (or atonement) for her actions as a young girl—but will it be enough? To say anything more would be to give the story away. Atonement is a great pick if you like your romance achey in a more conventional way (no murder or obsession here), but are also fond of crying. I highly recommend pairing your reading of the novel with the 2007 film adaptation, which includes standout performances by James McAvoy and a young Saoirse Ronan, as well as the incredible single-take scene of Dunkirk, which I have not stopped talking about since it came out.
The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton
When I think of Edith Wharton, I think “what if Jane Austen, but realistic?” The Gilded Age of Wharton’s The Age of Innocence is a bit tarnished, full of dull rule-followers and oppressive social structures. Newland Archer is engaged to the prim and lovely May Welland, a proper match by society’s standards. And he’s mostly happy—or is he? Enter the alluring Countess Ellen Olenska, fresh off a shocking scandal (divorce), who waltzes into Newland’s boring upper-class life and absolutely upends it with her wanton European ways. No matter how many dinner parties he’s forced to attend, Newland cannot get Ellen out of his head, and the two begin a passionate emotional affair. If this were a standard romance, the plot would eventually dispense of the snoozy original love interest in favour of Ellen, the real object of Newland’s affections. But Wharton’s social commentary isn’t interested in romantic wish fulfillment. Her depiction of Newland as lovelorn and obsessed is visceral, but so is the pain felt by May Welland, and so is the hopelessness of the situation. Will Newland actually abandon his duties as husband and father-to-be to run off to Europe with Ellen? Or will he succumb to the life prescribed to him by New York society? Due to the nature of this post, you can probably guess—but don’t let that stop you from reading it. The Age of Innocence was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1921, making Wharton the first female recipient of the award. And you can always complement your reading with a viewing of Martin Scorsese’s sumptuous 1991 film adaptation.
These Violent Delights by Micah Nemerever
Not to be confused with the other book of the same name, this one seems to have mostly slipped by the dark academia radar, which is a real shame because it has a) a university setting b) moody, blistery, wintery vibes, and c) murder. But above all else, Micah Nemerever’s debut novel has a central love affair that is so toxic, so dangerous, and so riveting that you don’t even know if you want the couple to end up together. Clinical, socially inept Paul is a science student at a Pittsburgh university when he meets the charming and wealthy Julian, who surprises Paul by matching him intellectually. It isn’t long before they’re falling for each other. Great, right? Well, there is a catch: Paul, you see, is somewhat of a sociopath, and Julian plays his weak spots like a fiddle. What could be a sweet romance warps into something twisted and obsessive—think “#1 Crush” by Garbage. And of course, it all ramps up to a horrific act (see: murder). I have to commend Nemerever’s commitment to the darkness; crafting the story from Paul’s highly interior, relentlessly claustrophobic perspective makes distancing oneself from his ugly thoughts all but impossible. These Violent Delights was marketed as “The Secret History meets Call Me By Your Name”, and while I often find these descriptors aspirational at best, I truly can’t think of a more apt comparison.
Wuthering Heights by Emily Brontë
Wuthering Heights is a Gothic Romance, and it fiercely earns both of those descriptors. But the “Romance” part seems to have given it a misleading reputation; it is not a swoony love story. Unless, of course, you find digging up a grave to cradle your dead lover’s corpse to be romantic (forgiven if you are in high school and going through an emo phase). Rather, it is full of drama and overwrought emotion, the famous moors of Yorkshire providing a powerful, desolate setting for the novel’s horrors. Gruesome twosome Catherine and Heathcliff’s obsession with each other ruins the lives of everyone around them, especially the unsuspecting Linton family, who fall into Cathy and Heathcliff’s web of emotional sabotage and revenge. Despite the duo’s reign of terror, they make an enthralling pair as they both progressively spin out with rage and jealousy. Author Emily Bronte serves up some deliciously memorable lines that, taken out of context, certainly sound romantic: “Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same”; “I am Heathcliff—he’s always, always in my mind—not as a pleasure…but as my own being”; “Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!”. That’s some juicy stuff. But put it into context of the horror show that is Wuthering Heights, and you’ve got something much, much darker. There have been a few film adaptations of the novel over the years, but none of them have successfully captured the sheer unhinged dramatics necessary to sell the story. Whoever attempts to adapt it next needs to go all in.
Have your own darkly romantic (or not) recommendation? Let us know in the comments! And if you like a bit of the bright side as well, make sure to check out our monthly Romance Book Club, where we’ll be discussing romance books of the more traditional variety!