From Heathcliff to the modern heroes, abuse continues to be masked as love in literature.
From the disguise of Heathcliff as a romantic hero to the callous characters of Colleen Hoover, abuse in literature suffers from romanticisation and is now just one of the key ingredients for another prize-winning page-turner. While Bronte’s complex character can quickly be dismissed as a man of his time, the continued romanticisation of abuse in the Fourth Wave of feminism is worrying, to say the least. Although this is not new, the return of this trope to the forefront of literature is particularly concerning, especially given the incredible promotional powers of social media.
In 2026, over 100 years after the suffragist movement, we have witnessed incredible achievements for feminism. In the past decade alone, we have stood in solidarity with survivors of sexual abuse in the workplace, protesting for better working conditions through the echoes of #MeToo. #jesuisgisele triggered an awakening in France as Gisèle Pelicot exposed the realities of sexual violence for survivors. The earliest feminists to the modern-day movements have worked tirelessly to better the lives and experiences of women. Literary female voices are essential, not only for an authentic portrayal of women’s sexual expression but for the advancement of feminist thought and theory. However, when our news feeds are consistently inundated with horror stories, each revealing yet another covered-up connection to Epstein, how can we so easily accept and idealise abuse in literature? – especially when it is predominantly written by women.
We’ve all read that book, or seen that film, featuring the bad boy who just needs love…and she can fix him! By the end, he’s hardly ‘fixed’ and, having committed a whole manner of atrocities, still, her love persists. But he is always just so devastatingly handsome that the churning in your stomach quickly turns to butterflies, and all of his ‘minor flaws’ are quickly forgotten.
There’s just one detail missing – that his jealous outbursts and terrifying fits of rage do not simply mean that ‘I love you too well’, as we have been led to believe since our collective infatuation with Mr. Rochester all those years ago. In the world of fiction, love and suffering have become beautiful synonyms, absolving abusers of accountability.
But when literature begins to shape our own realities, we can no longer enjoy these ‘love stories’ without consequences.
It’s no secret that these tropes, rooted in heteropatriarchal narrative structures, are amplified through PR, while the marketing machine does not deem happy, healthy relationships exciting enough to be published. This is not an industry that simply responds to reader demand, but one that manufactures it.
Consequently, authors with a global reach, such as Colleen Hoover, Anna Todd, or Stephanie Meyers reinforce the expectations of their predominantly young, female audience. Writing emotionally manipulative characters in abusive relationships and packaging it as a love story, with a flowery image popped on a glossy cover sends a very dangerous message to young girls and women: this is what love should look like.
The popularisation on social media, when paired with the fact that critical analysis and discussion are severely lacking on these platforms, could result in a generation that cannot understand or see abuse. When abuse is consistently portrayed as romantic and exacerbated through algorithmic reinforcement on social media, it becomes harder to recognise in real life. For young readers who are still learning to navigate intimacy, consent and self-worth, these tropes become guidelines, rather than fantasies. The already fine lines of abuse are blurred, and young people will seek out these relationships that they have been taught are ‘sexy’.
In a literary landscape increasingly characterised by jealousy, manipulation and anger, how can we expect young readers to build healthy relationships when they have been told that abuse is simply part of the narrative? Intimacy can be dramatically compelling and sexy without relying on abusive storylines. Disguising a lack of imagination as a lack of literary alternatives puts the future of feminism at risk when Heathcliff – the complex character turned romantic hero – continues to be our depiction of an ideal lover.
Image Credit: DVSN
