“He is a proud and unpleasant man. It is not worth pleasing him,” as Jane Austen said in Pride and Prejudice. When we let ourselves be seduced by a novel, we seek male protagonists with a very specific archetype: attractive, popular, rich, and athletic. Yet, behind that apparent perfection that is conveyed only through superficiality, the greater emotional turmoil he hides. Thus, contrast is born as a fundamental mechanism of romantic literature.
What is the perfect setting for these characters? A university campus or a Los Angeles high school as in The Shards, by Bret Easton Ellis, adapted into a television series for Disney+. All of this environment is consolidated with fraternity parties and sports teams — even making niche sports like hockey fashionable. The university is like a space of freedom where the characters reinvent themselves away from their families, giving rise to who they really are.
Likewise, for the plot to work, it must have certain ingredients that seem like the perfect formulas of romantic literature, from enemies to lovers to friends to lovers, and other recurring tropes. These conflicts are what keep us on edge as we read, even knowing that in the end love triumphs, while also being aware that they will have to endure losing what they want most to reach that happy ending.
These codes have created phenomena for the reading community, and Off-Campus, by Elle Kennedy, has been one of the major references of contemporary university romance. Also Save, the trilogy that made it to the small screen as Maxton Hall, by Mona Kasten. Even, if we want to switch to dark academia, the reference is The Secret, by Donna Tartt, where elitism and classical Greek studies are just the beginning of something that goes beyond.
The luxury of living a life that is not ours
Perhaps when we read we seek a total escape from our own life, to create a fantastical component, where grand mansions and money mixed with privileges are part of the DNA that helps us disconnect from the most mundane problems. Basically, romance is not the only appeal of reading, but the ability to slip into the social bubble that may seem inaccessible to the eye of any ordinary person. Therefore, the novel functions as a form of escapism.
The television series ‘Maxton Hall’, adaptation of the Save trilogy by Mona Kasten.
In fact, one of the elements that most captivates the reader is trauma as a mechanism of humanization, used to push the protagonist toward maturity and a transition toward “a better version of himself”. The male role may have money, looks, and popularity, but he needs the female character to emotionally save him to begin a new chapter in his life. This vulnerability makes the previously unattainable character seem, on the surface, both unreachable and desirable.
The protagonists of the adaptation of Kiss Me (Off-Campus), by Elle Kennedy.
And yes, the female protagonist has a role within this fantasy, beyond falling in love with the bad boy. Often, she does not initially belong to that upper world, but she will be the one to see the wounds of her new beloved to achieve a story full of sacrifices. The romance, however, functions as the door to an entry into a world of luxury, but also as a vindication of her own worth. All of this, while the protagonists pretend to study and pass university with good grades, surreal, right?
The television series ‘The Shards’, adaptation of Bret Easton Ellis’s novel.
And yes, the female protagonist has a function within this fantasy, one that goes beyond falling in love with the bad boy. Many times, she does not initially belong to that upper world, but she will be the one to see the wounds of her new beloved to achieve a story full of sacrifices. The romance, however, works as the door to an entry into a world of luxury, but also as a vindication of her own value. All of this, while the protagonists pretend to study and pass university with good grades, surreal, right?
When drama is also part of desire
But why do we keep reading stories where the protagonists make disastrous decisions? This conflict mirrors our everyday situations, where we experience jealousy, breakups, and desire from a safe distance, where we are only mere spectators. And it should be noted that romantic literature does not promise perfect relationships, but intense emotions that manage to keep you up all night—for a good cause, of course.
In short, we want characters who have it all, but who carry their own ghosts from the past. Money and beauty build the fantasy that makes us dream, while emotional chaos builds an addictive story like no other. For this reason, the handsome and rich university student is the infallible archetype within contemporary romance, for all kinds of audiences. So, do we keep falling in love with these characters because we want to live their lives or because we need to prove that even those who seem to have it all are also lost?
