Romantic Fiction for Grievers (+6 Rec’s!)
Written by Jade Adgate
Six contemporary romantic fiction books that delve into heavy themes of grief
“I had a theory that we gravitate toward the stories we need in life. Whatever we are looking for- adventure, excitement, emotion, connection-we turn to stories that help us find it. Whatever questions we’re struggling with- sometimes ones so deep, we don’t even really know we’re asking them- we look for answers in stories.
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There are a few book recommendations that I am frequently asked for: children’s books on grief, books to read at the bedside of someone preparing to die, and a good book to gift to someone recently bereaved. Over the years, I’ve learned that what we think these loved ones would want to read is drastically different than what they actually find compelling, the bereaved being a perfect example of this. Many folks who are wading in the treacherous waters of early grief have one or two thoughtfully chosen grief companions that they turn to daily, almost like a devotional. What they actually want to read may be the things we’re least likely to recommend, books that will immerse them in a gentler world, where they can escape for a bit. This is where contemporary romance shines.
Today I’d like to highlight six of my favorite contemporary fiction reads that are heavy on the laughs, heavier on the steam, and that lightly thread the themes of grief and loss throughout character-driven stories. In this way, our subconscious can gently enter in through the side door of our losses; we can consider grief through a less personal lens and reflect on heartache with a reader’s detachment. We can also observe similarities in our own stories to those of the characters we love (and sometimes love to hate), as well as identify where we may see parts of ourselves or where we hope to not.
Romance often gets a bad name, delegated to the category of “women’s fiction”, a genre of trite tropes, erotic performance, and little substance. As an intelligent woman who loves a good romantic comedy, I’d argue that this derogatory characterization has less to do with the books and more to do with judgement of their readers. Who benefits from the narrative that contemporary romance is “fluff”? What stereotypes does this myth perpetuate? Who is this hidden judge that points arbitrarily to legal thrillers or high fantasy as possessing more literary value? Perhaps the discrimination inherent in contemporary romance is another myth society tells us about what women should be and how we should value ourselves?
Let’s turn to the numbers. According to WordsRated Romance Novel Sales Statistics, romantic fiction continues to dominate the book market with over 19 million books in print sold in 2023 alone, grossing over $1.45 billion in revenue. In fact, romantic fiction is so popular that it constitutes over one third of all fiction sold, and is the highest earning fiction genre, year after year. Additionally, the readers of contemporary romance are predominately women (over 80% of readers self-identify as female) but are highly literate women; 30% of romance readers carry a novel with them at all time, and 46% of romance readers report reading at least one novel a week. Furthermore, some of the most beloved books of all time technically fall within the label of romantic fiction, such as Pride and Prejudice and Jane Eyre. So where is the categorical dismissal of an entire genre stemming from?
Once again, women’s work (and women’s interests and passions) have been labelled as inferior by our patriarchal culture to tell women a story about their subservience. What our society deems as high literature is largely books written by men, about men, and for men (have you seen a high school reading list?) while romantic fiction is its opposite: books written by women, about women, and for women. These books focus on the issues that matter to women and instead of regarding the things that women value as frivolous or silly, romantic fiction validates the expression of women’s concerns and ultimately empowerment. It also offers us highly complex, fully developed, multi-dimensional women characters, something that is largely missing in the classic literature cannon.
“Literature reflects the prevalent social attitude toward women; and since this attitude so often values men and masculine pursuits over women and feminine hobbies, women’s concerns seem devalued.”
So why recommend romantic fiction to the bereaved? While love may be one of the universal elements of human life, so is death. What better way to ease ourselves into philosophical consideration than by artfully weaving the two together? To dip your toe into the romantic fiction category, here are six grief heavy books that I heartily recommend, for the thinker, for the feeler, for the lover, and for the griever.
“When I was a kid, I had this idea — a hope, really — that life and death were two sides of the same door, and that when you died, there would be a long hallway in the afterlife where you would walk past the doors of all the lives you’d lived before. My theory was that in that hallway, you’d be able to remember every single life you’d ever lived, and if you concentrated all your effort on it, you could take a single intention or lesson with you, before opening the next door and starting your next life.”
Yulia Kuang’s How To End a Love Story is the perfect opening to this list because it is staunchly debated within the romantic fiction community. While many find all the necessary elements of good romantic fiction to be present, others find its eagerness to delve into the hardest parts of humanity off-putting for a genre that requires a happily-ever-after. Personally, I loved this book for many of the well-done and clever tropes, its heavy philosophical questions, and the achingly accurate deptictions of complicated bereavement (the open-door, five-star steam also didn’t hurt). When two writers meet again in the Hollywood writing room to bring Helen’s characters to life in Grant’s script for television production, neither expect the sparks to fly or the tenderness to grow. Helen and Grant aren’t just two strangers meeting for the first time, they share a disturbing secret from their high-school years, their feelings of responsibility for the death of Helen’s teenaged sister, more than 20 years prior. How do we bear the burden of parental grief as the surviving sibling? How do we heal when we lose a loved one tragically? Does death by suicide necessitate complicated bereavement? Do the people who remind us most of our trauma’s have the potential to harm us or heal us? Or both? How To End a Love Story doesn’t shy away, from the tough, the tender, or the taboo.
“I hoped when she died that she might continue to exist inside my head, and she sort of does. I can see her vividly, but she never speaks unless it’s a replay of a memory. Because I am the one who would have to generate what she says now, and I know that any words I put into her mouth wouldn’t be hers. Just mine in disguise. Somehow that’s more depressing than her not talking at all.”
As a young(ish) person who has had many geriatric friends, I loved Millie’s mission from the start: to safely deliver the ashes of her recently deceased bestie, Mrs. Nash, to Mrs. Nash’s long-lost heartache who is approaching her own death in a Florida hospice. As Millie races against a ticking clock, she finds herself teaming up with an ex’s haughty friend on a cross-country road-trip, storms, melt-downs, charming bed-and-breakfasts, and hilarious side missions included. This laugh-out-loud romantic comedy is heavy on the slow-burn, dives deep into the character’s emotional depths, and explores the ways we are touch by loss with tenderness. Not only was Millie and Hollis’ love story filled with banter, steam, and vulnerability, but the secondary story of Mrs. Nash and her long-ago lady love was equally developed and heart-wrenching. Mrs. Nash’s Ashes is hands-down the best Sarah Adler novel I’ve read yet.
“I did believe that sometimes love was enough. And some other times it conquered the world. It depended on how much magic was in the air that day.”
The Fiancé Dilemma by Elena Armas
Bestselling author Elena Armas often incorporates grief into her main characters (The Spanish Love Deception, The Long Game), exploring the bruises that loss can leave on the heart. This novel, The Fiancé Dilemma, offers every trope that I love in a novel: a nosy yet charming small-town (North Carolina), an eccentric cast of characters (hello, Bobbi Shark!), and a female main-character who is as deep as she is quirky. Josie Moore is a bit of a legend in the picturesque town she serves as mayor, for her cute coffee shop and her penchant for leaving men at the altar. When her long-lost father sends his cunning publicist (Bobbi Shark) to wrap a potential media headache into a heartwarming package, Josie does the only thing a frazzled girl possibly could, she ropes her sister’s best friend (Matthew) into playing her fiancé and sets Bobbi Shark to planning the wedding of the century. But before Josie and Matthew can give into the love building between them, they must first dismantle the walls Josie has build around her tender, grieving heart. Matthew may be my favorite book boyfriend of all time and his capable and caring support of Josie demonstrates what modern women are craving in support from their romantic partners.
“You don’t need to prove you deserve your life to me or anyone. You deserve it, because everyone does. When they die or get sick or have to get a mastectomy, it’s not because they deserve it. It’s not fair, and it’s random. There’s nothing we can do other than live how we want to live.”
What could be worst than the death of your recently ex-ed boyfriend? Arriving at his funeral and realizing no one knows he dumped you. When Allison Mulally arrives at the somber event honoring her ex (as of six weeks ago)-boyfriend, she’s got enough on her mind: her recent double mastectomy following her mother’s breast cancer treatment, her worries about the continued threat of her BRCA-I carrier status on her fallopian tubes, and the unshakeable feeling that she has to earn her early detection status by fully seizing the day. When her ex’s well-meaning sister begs Allison to play along as his girlfriend, Allison finds herself caught up in a sense of responsibility to put the bereaved families needs above her own. But as Allison spends four weekends with her ex’s grieving bestie, Adam, packing up her ex’s belongings and readying his condo for sale, the pair slide into a comfortable intimacy, shared grief, and budding romance. Ellie Palmer doesn’t shy away from complicated feelings, grief, or the fear of missing out that dominates a generation. Four Weekends and a Funeral asks us to consider if who we want to be is really better than who we actually are, and she gives us a whip-smart female main character, grumpy-sunshine romance, and hot carpenter to fortify us for the challenge.
“And that was the moment I realized: when the world felt dark and scary, love could whisk you off to go dancing; laughter could take some of the pain away; beauty could punch holes in your fear. I decided then that my life would be full of all three.”
Emily Henry is an American darling right now, with her prolific release of best selling novels, and Beach Read is unexpectedly the best of the bunch. January Andrews finds herself grieving her dad in a lonely beach cabin with a crushing case of writer’s block preventing her from escaping into her usual flow crafting romantic comedies. Augustus Everett, her surprise next door neighbor and former college rival, is equally blocked from penning his next high-brow literary masterpiece. From the depths of their drunken despair, the pair decide to swap genres and help each other break through their twin obstacles. In the process, January and Gus begin to truly see each other. From her sweetly planned lessons in romance at carnivals and beach sunsets to his intellectual explorations through cemeteries and interviews of the grieving, the couple slowly builds on their undeniable chemistry to create a vulnerable intimacy. Henry pens a female main character that explores the dark side of grief, the hurt and betrayal when the person your mourning was revealed to more complicated that you’d realized while they were still living. She also explores the impact a slow decline of a parent has on a their child and the lessons that witnessing your parents grief can bestow on their children. Grab a box of tissues because this book’s ending DESTROYED me but I’d do it all over again.
“Poor happy endings. They’re so aggressively misunderstood. We act like “and they lived happily ever after” is trying to con us into thinking that nothing bad ever happened to anyone ever again. But that’s never the way I read those words. I read them as “and they built a life together and looked after each other and made the absolute best of their lives.”
From a death and grief perspective, The Rom-Commers truly has it all: deceased mother following a tragic accident, years of caregiving for a physically ailing parent, and a self-sacrificing heroine who tends to hide behind her responsibility instead of chasing her dreams. But when fledging screenwriter Emma Wheeler is offered the opportunity to write alongside her literary hero Charlie Yates, her hope is bigger than her fear. This romantic comedy is often as funny as it is steamy, asks some unflinching questions every griever can relate to, and pulls back the curtain on the mysterious writing process. It’s unusual to see so much human messiness on the page in this particular genre but Katherine Center does it well (as usual) and shows us just enough reality to relate to her characters. Can Emma face her panic attacks, sense of responsibility for being the family caregiver, and finally make peace with her grief without being overcome by it? If anyone could poke and needle her out of her comfort zone but care for her tenderly and with subtly, it’d be the guy she’s been fan-girling for years.
The next time you’re browsing sympathy cards and contemplating which grief book you can offer a beloved as they face the tender days of loss, may this post be a reminder that sometimes grievers just want to laugh, get lost in another world, and take a break from their own lives. And for anyone out there who may still be suspicious of the genre of romantic fiction, may this be an issued challenge to read something fun, that marries hope with angst, and ultimately offers reflections of not just love, but also loss.
All six of these romantic fiction novels can be purchased in Farewell Library’s Bookshop here, along with many others that Jade has (without a hint of guilt) enjoyed.
