Romance novelist, Talia Hibbert, of Get a Life, Chloe Brown fame, discovered the romance genre through well-read paperbacks at her local library. Her love of the genre is what inspired her to self-publish her own romance novels until Chloe Brown was picked up by a traditional publisher. 

Hibbert’s years of writing and passion for romance are why the other two novels that make up the Brown sisters’ trilogy work so well. She does not look down on the cringey aspects of the genre that might not appeal to every audience. This philosophy does not seem to be shared by the Brooklyn-based romance-exclusive publisher, 831 Stories, which launched in 2024.

Confused marketing

As a longtime romance reader, I should be the target demographic for 831 Stories. But their marketing gimmicks left me disappointed, as I don’t think that they translated into well-written romance novels. The consistent blandness of their characters and a lack of believable stakes to overcome felt odd. Why were these books so sanitized, but presented in all their marketing as revolutionary products meant to take away the ‘guilt’ from the ‘guilty pleasure’ you get from romance novels?

Erica Cerulo, one of the company’s cofounders, wants 831 Stories to do for romance novels what Marvel does for comic books, or what A24 does for independent movies: provide access to a larger audience that they wouldn’t otherwise have access to. 

Romance literature is already a billion-dollar industry. According to The Guardian, in the US and UK, romance sales have doubled in the past five years. I would argue that such a well-established market with a dedicated fanbase is not in need of more brand recognition or a larger audience. So what are Cerulo and her co-founder Claire Mazur’s real motivations?

To me, the very obvious answer seems to be easy profit. I am not saying that the Big Five corporate publishing houses, with their constant attempts at union busting and oligarchical consolidation, are not motivated by profit. 

831 Stories, it seems, only craft their romance novels to be pre-fanfiction, instead of a work of literature to be cultivated. The content doesn’t matter, as long as it sells hats, keychains, and builds up interest for a Hollywood adaptation.

Corporate strategies

“We want to be hip, horny Hallmark,” Mazur told Glamour, referencing the made-for-TV movies produced by the American greeting card company. With their low production costs, and a production timeline of only two to three weeks, Hallmark raked in approximately $480 million from product placement and advertising annually.

831 Stories’ incorporation of cookie-cutter corporate strategies is most apparent in their book launches. Their first book, Big Fan by Alexandra Romanoff, is about a divorced political strategist who gets a second chance at love with her teenage boy band crush. Readers were able to stream a single from the fictional rockstar love interest on Spotify and purchase a $195 necklace. The book and the business itself were inspired by the success of the Anne Hathaway adaptation of Robinne Lee’s romance novel, The Idea of You.

Other corporate strategies adopted by 831 Stories can be seen in their decision to avoid physical descriptions of their characters so that the maximum number of readers can imagine themselves living out the main characters’ romances. 

They also do not invest in individual book design. Typically, romance novels have elaborate covers of beautiful models in various stages of undress, or more recently, cartoon illustrations of the characters. Not being ashamed of this depiction of desire is a milestone that every romance reader has to go through. 

However, for a company so intent on taking away the guilt from their readers’ ‘guilty pleasures,’ 831 Stories follows a formulaic design for all their books with only two blocks of colour and no illustrations. Designed by C47, a creative studio, 831 Stories seems to be opting out of engaging with book illustrators and designers who are so essential to the ecosystem of the publishing arts.

The company is also averse to actual romance writers. They specifically scout writers from outside the romance genre who sometimes aren’t writers at all: Upasna Barath, a comedian, wrote Comedic Timing. Other unconventional authors chosen include wine critic Eliza Dumais and fashion writer Erika Veurink.

But the most egregious corporate behaviour that 831 Stories commits for me is giving their women characters no stakes in the romance. A key component of romance novels is the third-act conflict — a serious obstacle the couple has to overcome to arrive at their happily-ever-after. 

According to KJ Charles, a British historical and fantasy romance novelist, the third-act conflict is the testing of a couple’s connection and vulnerability with each other. Without this essential step, there is no way to demonstrate through the story that the two main characters actually belong together. 

What’s the point?

In 831 Stories, the woman has to be undevastated if the romance doesn’t work out. In my eyes, this condition makes the third-act conflict in their books an awkward suggestion rather than a cohesive part of the plotlines.

Why should the reader care about the love story if its main characters aren’t even invested in it?

If a publisher appears only interested in making romance and love products that appeal to the most general of audiences, why does it get to market itself as an innovative star in the industry? When I read romance novels, I want to be invested in the love story. I want to believe in their ability to work through their conflicts. 

I do not read romance novels for the merch or for fan content. I do not want to read a silly story of rich women going on boring dates with boring men. I can encounter that at the U of T campus, or anywhere else I go. If this is the future of romance novels, count me out.