The Problem with ‘Problematic’ Fiction: A Defence of Vampiric Alpha Billionaires

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Why is fantasizing about being in a semi-abusive relationship with a hot billionaire any worse than fantasizing about being an orphaned Chosen One hunted by a dark wizard?

That was the question I was faced with yesterday, while browsing the Goodreads comment section for a run-off-the-mill billionaire romance/erotica. Now I am by no means saying that this book was an outstanding work of literature. I haven’t read the book, so I have no way of knowing what kind of quality it has to offer.

That Which Separates Fantasy and Reality

But one of the major (and common) complaints about it on the comment section was that the relationship that it featured was ‘problematic’. And that reading about this problematic relationship might adversely affect young readers who would then proceed to expect this sort of behavior and dynamic in their own relationships.

These sorts of concerns are nothing new. It’s the exact same sort of thing people have been saying for years about a plethora of books including Twilight, Fifty Shades of Grey, A Court of Thorns and Roses and myriad other YA titles.

It’s not that I don’t understand where the critics are coming from. The twenty-seventh time you read about some alpha dude getting his knickers in a twist because his lady-love has spoken to another man is twenty-six times too many, in my opinion. But that’s just my taste in bedtime reading. It doesn’t have to be yours. And while everyone is allowed to rant about tropes they find annoying, of course, it is the accompanying moral handwringing that I find quite uncalled for.

I mean, that line of argument doesn’t even make sense. Not really. If reading about Christian Grey makes you seriously consider hooking up with an abusive billionaire, what’s to say reading about Batman wouldn’t make you seriously consider dressing up as a nocturnal mammal and beating up street thugs?

It might, of course. But in that case you’ve got far bigger problems to deal with in life than your exposure to ‘problematic’ fiction.

Why is it that everyone seems to think young girls reading Twilight might go on to have unhealthy relationships thanks to their exposure to the book, and yet nobody seems to have the same concerns about young boys watching The Fast and the Furious growing up to become reckless drivers?

I mean both of those things are theoretically possible. It’s just that we (normally) trust people to know the difference between fantasy and reality. The only demographic to whom this courtesy is not extended seems to be young women reading over-the-top, Harlequinesque romances. Never mind the fact that most popular fiction is over-the-top, unrealistic, and ‘problematic’ in one way or another.

All Fiction is Problematic

I mean, sure, you wouldn’t really want a semi-murderous vampire to be obsessed with your smell. But then again, would you really want to have a lightening shaped scar on your forehead, acquired when some psychotic terrorist murdered your parents? For that matter, would you really even want to attend a school where people regularly fall off incredible heights after getting hit by giant flying balls on their broomsticks? Probably not. Definitely not the kind of place you’d want to enroll your children in.

Most people who get a kick out of murder mysteries probably don’t really want to be involved in a murder themselves. And even hardcore Captain America fans would probably balk at the idea of being injected with an experimental steroid to be deployed as a super-soldier to a real war-zone.

Would being exposed to Captain America at a young age make you more amenable to experimental drug trials? It might, but in that case you need therapy more than media censorship.

But none of these concerns keep us from enjoying those ridiculously over-the-top, yet unbelievably entertaining stories. Because we all know that what’s good in fantasy isn’t good in reality. What you find entertaining to think about is not the same as what you want to experience in your real, day-to-day life.

Reading and enjoying violent Mafia novels doesn’t mean you want to join the Mafia. In fact, most people who’re actually in the Mafia probably haven’t read that many Mafia novels at all. I’m pretty sure they’ve got more important shit to deal with. Like, you know, killing people and stuff.

So why should reading about overly-possessive alpha boyfriends mean that you’ll really end up in unhealthy and abusive relationships?

I’m not saying that that’s impossible. All I’m saying is that the one doesn’t necessarily lead to the other. You can end up in an abusive relationship without ever having read a single book in the Twilight saga, just like you can become a drug kingpin without ever having watched The Godfather.

Never let anyone tell you that you need to consume ‘problematic’ media in order to have a problematic life, kids. Those two can exist completely independent of one another. I promise.

Arson, Murder, and Kissing Fuckbois

I was as annoyed as the next person with the Twilight frenzy that overtook the pre-teen population during the mid-2000s. I read all the intellectual-sounding criticisms and socially-concerned Twilight bashing that the Internet had to offer in those years. And when writing The Classroom Effect at the ripe old age of sixteen, I remember taking great care to ensure that none of my relationships could in any way, shape or form be associated with the dreaded P-word.

I was 23 when I started A Flight of Broken Wings, my second novel. It didn’t feature any significant romantic relationships. It did, however, feature two murders, one theft and multiple stabbings, many of them perpetrated by the hero and his allies.

And the irony of it all is that it never even occurred to me that any one of these elements might be seen as ‘problematic’ by my readers.

Why not, though? Why is a fictional sixteen-year-old dating a 200-year-old vampire any more problematic than a fictional sixteen-year-old becoming an assassin and killing villains? I mean if I had two daughters and one of them was planning to join an assassination squad while the other dated a sparkly fuckboi, I’m pretty sure I’d ground the first one for longer.

Why is being a killer ‘empowering’ while dating a werewolf is ‘problematic’? Wherein lies the difference between the fucked-up-ness of either of those life choices?

I guess what I’m trying to say is that we maybe need to reexamine our ideas of what constitutes power and what constitutes weakness. And why one is more desirable than the other. Why are the stupid (and sometimes violent) fantasies of preteen boys deemed less ‘problematic’ than the stupid (and sometimes sappy) fantasies of preteen girls? And what kind of a relationship do we really even want to have with the world of fantasy?

Because you can’t tell me that reading about Edward Cullen makes you pine for a vampire boyfriend but reading about Bruce Wayne doesn’t make you want to punch criminals in a batsuit. And because acting on either of those impulses in the real world would probably land you in some pretty…problematic spots, if you know what I mean.

Let me know down below your take on the problem of problematic relationships in fiction.