The Romantasy Mind: Why romantasies stay with us long after the final page
SR Phillips
7/22/20264 min read
Romance and fantasy have always existed as separate genres, but when you combine them, something interesting happens. It’s a bit like cake. Fat and sugar are rewarding on their own, but together (in what are called hyper palatable foods) they create something our brains find disproportionately compelling, because they activate our reward systems very effectively. Romance and fantasy seem to do something similar for storytelling. Separately, they’re both satisfying. Together they’re almost irresistible.
And if you've ever finished a romantasy novel and found yourself staring at the wall wondering what to do with your life... you're in good company. Because I have, too. As a romantasy reader and author, executive coach, and learning & development specialist, I’m endlessly fascinated about this. Why do these stories affect us so deeply? As readers, we often joke about book hangovers, emotional damage, or needing therapy after finishing a series.
But underneath the memes is something genuinely fascinating. Our brains don't simply read stories. They experience them. And romantasy, perhaps more than any other genre, seems particularly good at making our brains believe that what we're reading matter
The Romantasy Mind
What we’re experiencing is something I like to call The Romantasy Mind. It's my way of describing the unique psychological experience that happens when fantasy and romance collide. Fantasy gives us impossible worlds. Romance gives us deeply human emotions. Put them together and something remarkable happens. Readers often report:
feeling genuine grief when characters die
missing fictional worlds after finishing a book
becoming emotionally attached to characters
thinking about scenes weeks later
feeling as though they've "lost friends" after finishing a series
None of this is strange. In fact, it's exactly what we'd expect from the way the human brain processes stories, because your brain doesn't completely separate fiction from reality.
One of the biggest misconceptions about fiction is that our brains treat it as "just pretend." They don't. When we're immersed in a story, many of the same brain regions involved in real experiences become active.
Researchers call this narrative transportation—the feeling of becoming mentally and emotionally absorbed in a story. When we're transported into a narrative, our emotions, beliefs and even our attitudes can temporarily shift to match the story we're experiencing. Rather than observing events from the outside, we begin experiencing them alongside the characters. It's why your heart races during battle scenes. Why your stomach twists during betrayal. Why that final confession makes you cry. Your brain is responding as though these emotional experiences have genuine significance.
Lots of genres create emotional investment. So why does romantasy seem to hit quite so hard? The answer lies in the combination of high stakes and high emotion. Fantasy raises the external stakes. Kingdoms fall, magic threatens the world, and ancient enemies awaken. Lives are constantly on the line. Romance raises the internal stakes. Will they trust each other? Will they choose love? Will they sacrifice everything?
Psychologists have long known that emotionally arousing experiences are remembered more strongly than emotionally neutral ones. Emotion acts like a highlighter pen for memory, and when huge external danger is combined with intimate emotional vulnerability, the brain pays attention. That combination creates memories, and more importantly feelings, that linger long after we've closed the book.
One of the biggest questions I get asked is: "Why do I know these people aren't real, but I still miss them?"
This is where something called parasocial relationships comes in. A parasocial relationship is a one-sided emotional bond with someone we don't actually know. Originally, psychologists used the term to describe our connections with television personalities or celebrities (or modern day influencers). Today, we know fictional characters can evoke exactly the same kind of attachment. As we spend hundreds of pages inside a character's thoughts, hopes and fears, our brains begin treating them almost like members of our own social world. They're familiar. Predictable. Emotionally meaningful. And when the story ends, that relationship ends too. Which is why finishing a beloved series can feel surprisingly similar to saying goodbye to real friends.
So why do we cry over fictional characters? This is another of my favourite questions because the answer says something beautiful about being human. The answer is that we don't cry because we've forgotten the story is fictional. We cry because our brains are built for empathy. Neuroscientist Tania Singer's work has shown that when we witness someone else's emotional pain, many of the same neural systems involved in our own emotions become active.
Stories take this one step further. Instead of observing from a distance, we're invited inside the character's perspective. We understand not only what they're experiencing but why. Psychologists call this empathy and perspective-taking, and the more time we spend with characters, the stronger this emotional simulation becomes. By the time tragedy strikes, we're not simply reading about someone else's loss. We've mentally lived alongside them. So when they grieve... We grieve, too.
And this is really only beginning to scratch the surface on what I think is a genuinely fascinating topic. Science and psychology can help us to discover why book hangovers happen, and why fantasy romances sometimes feel more intense than real life. Why villains are so attractive, and why certain tropes keep drawing us in. Why we reread our favourite books, and why some fictional couples feel unforgettable.
And once you understand the psychology behind romantasy, you'll never read in quite the same way again.
Further Reading
Green, M. C., & Brock, T. C. (2000). The role of transportation in the persuasiveness of public narratives. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 79(5), 701–721.
Horton, D., & Wohl, R. R. (1956). Mass Communication and Para-Social Interaction. Psychiatry, 19(3), 215–229.
Cohen, J. (2004). Parasocial Breakup from Favorite Television Characters. Journal of Social and Personal Relationships, 21(2), 187–202.
Singer, T., et al. (2004). Empathy for Pain Involves the Affective but not Sensory Components of Pain. Science, 303(5661), 1157–1162.
Cahill, L., & McGaugh, J. L. (1998). Mechanisms of emotional arousal and lasting declarative memory. Trends in Neurosciences, 21(7), 294–299.
Kidd, D. C., & Castano, E. (2013). Reading Literary Fiction Improves Theory of Mind. Science, 342(6156), 377–380.
