Reading more is a goal most Americans (including myself) share. It’s a simple fact that reading makes you smarter, but the more I experience life and its complexities, the more urgency I feel to read material that can help me understand it. This is partially why I’ve applied pressure on myself to explore the classics before I pick up a trending BookTok pick. Classics, we’re told, offer literary nuances that help us understand the world.

When I received a Kindle for Christmas, I was invigorated — if not a bit overwhelmed — by the possibility of having any book at my fingertips. As I scrolled through the recommendations from an algorithm that had not yet had the chance to get to know me or my reading interests however, I was not faced with any classic novels nor very many familiar titles.

Instead, I scrolled and scrolled upon romance novels with cartoonish illustrated covers — books whose descriptions always seem to place them in a box of tropes: “enemies to lovers,” “sunshine/grumpy” or “slowburn.” I even saw one that, following the title, outright says “A Dark MM College Romance.” When did we as a society insist upon giving novels a stamp for any and every trope they fit into like we’re sorting laundry? 

This was certainly not my first exposure to trope literature. I had my time with BookTok — scrolling endlessly through videos like “My Top 10 Enemies to Lovers Reads,” instead of actually just walking to the library and picking up a book.

I’ve also noticed Barnes & Noble in recent years catering more toward this incessant need to categorize every piece of literature. Intertwined with their bookshelves are tables with signs that read “Spicy Romance,” (always followed by a chili pepper) or “Hockey Romance” or even “As Seen on BookTok.”

I got on the subject of reading with my cousin, who always has a new cartoon-covered romance in tow. She was showing me her current read, “The Mating Game,” a romance about two “wolf-shifters,” and I expressed to her my curiosity about her draw to these types of books. I inquired haphazardly about these trope-centered stories that often provide very quick emotional gratification. She so simply labeled this brand of reading “fast-food literature,” a much more concise description than I could muster.

If there is something these books will provide, it’s rapid pacing, comfort and emotional payoff. This left me wondering if “fast-food literature” is something just young adults—specifically college students—gravitate toward for a sense of escapism from the incessant chaos of daily life? Or are these books finding a larger, perhaps permanent, audience? 

Harvard Medical School student and recent University of Wisconsin grad Norah Paulsen grew up reading anything and everything, so it makes sense that she found herself among the audience of this style of contemporary literature during her freshman year of undergrad. Her first foray into this style of writing was with fantasy fiction writer Sarah J. Maas.

“I really liked the trope of strong female characters that were kind of going through it,” Paulsen said. “I think the start of college is always a little bit full of turmoil, and I feel like that type of trope really spoke to me.”

Paulsen recently reread some of the romance material she consumed freshman and sophomore year of college and found—without even realizing it was happening—that her recent reading habits have strayed quite a bit from the literature she once found so addictive.

So the question is, what changed? For Paulsen, it’s not so much a question of what changed, but rather, what she came to realize about herself and her reading preferences. 

Revisiting the books she read as a freshman in college gave Paulsen some perspective on the types of reading she values today. 

She pointed to books like “Priory of the Orange Tree” by Samantha Shannon, noting its diverse characters, storylines and the author’s tasteful job in developing subtle tropes and using romance as just a minor element to the story, rather than as a driving narrative. 

In recent years, as Paulsen has gained more life experience, she’s given more consideration to what the “fast-food literature” achieves. When Anna Lembke, author of “Dopamine Nation” visited her school to speak about the modern addiction that is constant dopamine hits, Paulsen realized the trope-heavy, emotionally gratifying romance books she indulged in were one way to feed that very addiction. 

Paulsen has also found that those shiny, polished and promising tropes only tell half the story.

“They don’t make room for the messiness of real life,” she said. “It’s easier to accept that and resonate with that when you haven’t experienced the messiness of real life, but once you have, it’s almost frustrating.”

So, is it all bad? Should audiences everywhere ditch their books with the cartoon-illustrated covers or mosey on past the tables at Barnes & Noble that supply you with your trope fix of the week? Not necessarily.

“It’s important to recognize that there are different types of literature from that and maybe more well written ones, but also, you can’t bucket all of the books as pointless or stupid, because I think it overlooks a lot of the role that they can play in someone’s life,” Paulsen said.

For her, the resiliency trope in female characters was something she could resonate with, even if the stories themselves she no longer feels connected to. 

Maybe the concept of tropes is moving us away from embracing storylines that are entirely their own — stories that are incapable of being wrapped nicely with a bow labeled “friends to lovers.” Or perhaps this idea of “fast-food literature” embodies the mass-production of literature today. But in an age of constant social media exposure and declining literacy rates, it would be a mistake to overlook the benefits that easygoing, gratifying reading can provide.

“For a lot of people that maybe didn’t grow up reading a ton, maybe it’s the first time they picked up a book, and they actually liked it,” Paulsen said. “To get involved in the world of reading is so magical, and it’s such a good experience. If silly trope books and ‘fast-food literature’ is one stage along the way, I see no problem with that.”