There Are More ‘Book Boyfriends’ Than Ever On Our Screens. Are They Cringe Or Cool Now?
The ‘book boyfriend‘ has become the unofficial mascot of romance #BookTok. He lives in pastel-highlighted pages cracked open at the spine and there’s a good chance he’ll roll up his sleeves in an endearing fashion (The Other Bennet Sister’s Tom Hayward), have a personal commitment to yearning (The Summer I Turned Pretty’s Conrad Fisher), or growl (too many to count). They likely have a secret backstory that makes their brooding make sense, they’re more than comfortable with their sexuality, and you might find a heart of gold underneath it all that coaxes out the authentic self of his love interest. Whether he follows the blueprint of Pride and Prejudice’s Mr. Darcy, A Court Of Thorns And Roses’ Rhysand, Fourth Wing’s Xaden Riorson, or the newest boyfriend on the block: Garrett Graham from Elle Kennedy’s The Deal — recently adapted in Prime Video’s Off Campus — the book boyfriend has the power to transcend genre and, a lot of the time, reality. That’s perhaps part of his charm. And with ‘book boyfriends’ being brought to life on our screens now more than ever before, they’re becoming less of an embarrassing guilty pleasure and more of a celebrated ‘yearning’ softie for Gen-Z and Millennial women in particular who want to embrace the inherent cringe of it all. So much so, it’s almost become full-circle to being cool again. Almost. Readers don’t just love to read about a dashing book boyfriend anymore, they create intricate fan edits and complain (lovingly) about how much those edits hurt to watch, write fanfics from the love interest’s point of view (Peeta’s Games, anyone?), defend them in comments sections, create AI renderings of them (a disrespectful overstep, in my opinion), and, of course, fancast them. Fans engage in deeply personal levels of emotional engagement but are empowered by a collective. The all-caps screaming in the group chats spawns sleuthing for hints at upcoming book moments and mass delusion (no judgment and hello to my own group chat!) running alongside meaningful community. The Summer I Turned Pretty group chat is not embarrassing while you’re in it because the show takes your emotional capacity seriously, and so do your friends. These shows are serious business. The feelings they evoke and the debates they cause are arguably types of cultural curation. And the connecting ingredient is a healthy dose of ‘chalance. Caring to the point of cringe is the whole point. Those who love their book boyfriends most ardently refuse to be embarrassed by how much they care. Caring to the point of cringe is the whole point. Those who love their book boyfriends most ardently refuse to be embarrassed by how much they care. chloe johnson Relationship expert Lauren Salaun explains exactly why romance novel TV adaptations garner such an obsessive fanbase: “I think one of the biggest takeaways we get from these shows is that these stories are giving people a clearer picture of how they want to feel in a relationship: chosen, prioritized, emotionally connected, desired, and special.” This isn’t a new trend, of course — romance has always been an incredibly popular genre — but a revamped way of exploring romance fit for the current age, defined largely by Gen-Z and Millennial women. Maybe we long for the carefree rush of reading Y/N fanfiction, the Tumblr-core teen angst – there are even rumblings of the 2010’s dystopian trend making a comeback. Embracing ‘book boyfriends’ all come under this umbrella trend of embracing cringe, and our inner child. Some of the faded Twilight t-shirts might be ironic, of course, but in a time where women are increasingly seeking to reclaim the imagery of girlhood, the shared ritual of losing your mind about a perfectly executed book-to-screen scene becomes a type of emotional language; a way to embrace what might now be seen as cringe, a fun way to talk about values and intimacy and love without the terrifying vulnerability of saying the words aloud. Criticisms of the romance genre and their adaptation counterpart as not ‘real’ literature or media fall flat when these adaptations can serve as a gateway into reading as literacy rates plummet (for example, in the 12 months ending October 2025, 12% of adult fiction purchases made by those who only read books occasionally were discovered by or chosen because of adaptations) — and when compared to similar high-performing genre fiction and media catered more to men. However, that doesn’t mean the genre is immune to progress. In a step forward from the 2010’s dystopian love triangles that went before, these new screen adaptations of your favourite book boyfriends offer something outside of the ability to see him on screen: the ability to update him. Let’s take Off Campus as an example. There are lots of things to like about the show: it reflects the college experience many of us wish we had, introduced The Beaches to new fans, Allie’s bangs and J.Lo outfit are phenomenal, and it has sparked intere

The ‘book boyfriend‘ has become the unofficial mascot of romance #BookTok. He lives in pastel-highlighted pages cracked open at the spine and there’s a good chance he’ll roll up his sleeves in an endearing fashion (The Other Bennet Sister’s Tom Hayward), have a personal commitment to yearning (The Summer I Turned Pretty’s Conrad Fisher), or growl (too many to count). They likely have a secret backstory that makes their brooding make sense, they’re more than comfortable with their sexuality, and you might find a heart of gold underneath it all that coaxes out the authentic self of his love interest.
Whether he follows the blueprint of Pride and Prejudice’s Mr. Darcy, A Court Of Thorns And Roses’ Rhysand, Fourth Wing’s Xaden Riorson, or the newest boyfriend on the block: Garrett Graham from Elle Kennedy’s The Deal — recently adapted in Prime Video’s Off Campus — the book boyfriend has the power to transcend genre and, a lot of the time, reality. That’s perhaps part of his charm. And with ‘book boyfriends’ being brought to life on our screens now more than ever before, they’re becoming less of an embarrassing guilty pleasure and more of a celebrated ‘yearning’ softie for Gen-Z and Millennial women in particular who want to embrace the inherent cringe of it all. So much so, it’s almost become full-circle to being cool again. Almost.
Readers don’t just love to read about a dashing book boyfriend anymore, they create intricate fan edits and complain (lovingly) about how much those edits hurt to watch, write fanfics from the love interest’s point of view (Peeta’s Games, anyone?), defend them in comments sections, create AI renderings of them (a disrespectful overstep, in my opinion), and, of course, fancast them. Fans engage in deeply personal levels of emotional engagement but are empowered by a collective. The all-caps screaming in the group chats spawns sleuthing for hints at upcoming book moments and mass delusion (no judgment and hello to my own group chat!) running alongside meaningful community. The Summer I Turned Pretty group chat is not embarrassing while you’re in it because the show takes your emotional capacity seriously, and so do your friends. These shows are serious business. The feelings they evoke and the debates they cause are arguably types of cultural curation. And the connecting ingredient is a healthy dose of ‘chalance. Caring to the point of cringe is the whole point. Those who love their book boyfriends most ardently refuse to be embarrassed by how much they care.
Caring to the point of cringe is the whole point. Those who love their book boyfriends most ardently refuse to be embarrassed by how much they care.
chloe johnson
Relationship expert Lauren Salaun explains exactly why romance novel TV adaptations garner such an obsessive fanbase: “I think one of the biggest takeaways we get from these shows is that these stories are giving people a clearer picture of how they want to feel in a relationship: chosen, prioritized, emotionally connected, desired, and special.”
This isn’t a new trend, of course — romance has always been an incredibly popular genre — but a revamped way of exploring romance fit for the current age, defined largely by Gen-Z and Millennial women. Maybe we long for the carefree rush of reading Y/N fanfiction, the Tumblr-core teen angst – there are even rumblings of the 2010’s dystopian trend making a comeback. Embracing ‘book boyfriends’ all come under this umbrella trend of embracing cringe, and our inner child.
Some of the faded Twilight t-shirts might be ironic, of course, but in a time where women are increasingly seeking to reclaim the imagery of girlhood, the shared ritual of losing your mind about a perfectly executed book-to-screen scene becomes a type of emotional language; a way to embrace what might now be seen as cringe, a fun way to talk about values and intimacy and love without the terrifying vulnerability of saying the words aloud. Criticisms of the romance genre and their adaptation counterpart as not ‘real’ literature or media fall flat when these adaptations can serve as a gateway into reading as literacy rates plummet (for example, in the 12 months ending October 2025, 12% of adult fiction purchases made by those who only read books occasionally were discovered by or chosen because of adaptations) — and when compared to similar high-performing genre fiction and media catered more to men. However, that doesn’t mean the genre is immune to progress. In a step forward from the 2010’s dystopian love triangles that went before, these new screen adaptations of your favourite book boyfriends offer something outside of the ability to see him on screen: the ability to update him.
Let’s take Off Campus as an example. There are lots of things to like about the show: it reflects the college experience many of us wish we had, introduced The Beaches to new fans, Allie’s bangs and J.Lo outfit are phenomenal, and it has sparked interesting conversations about consent, intimacy after trauma and body image. As with most romance shows, it’s also heavily about the love between friends and self-love too (did you cry at Hannah’s phone call with her mom, too?). Throw in plenty of handsome men and pretty women and you’ve got all the ingredients to get viewers hooked. But the series also chose to change a fair bit about its book boyfriend: Garrett Graham. The Deal was published back in 2015, when we were arguably more on board with ‘bad boys’ and toxic possession as a form of passion (see: the After franchise and almost every book Colleen Hoover published around this era). Some romance readers still definitely prefer this type of boyfriend, but the book boyfriends adapted on screen that have become most popular in recent years seem to follow a different sort of formula: they’re softer, they yearn, they’re deemed ‘pathetic’ for the ones they love.

This doesn’t mean they’re completely unproblematic — more on that later — but in the case of Garrett Graham, a lot of his more misogynistic, ‘red-flag’-to-some qualities were removed in favor of creating narrative tension elsewhere, updating a book boyfriend for this current age. The biggest example of this is in the absence of the book’s ‘hands-off rule’ in which Graham declares that no other man on campus is allowed to even speak to his ex-girlfriend, Hannah, or they risk his hockey-boy wrath. In the adaptation, however, Graham’s direct threat is reworked into a miscommunication spread by his hockey teammates instead of by his own volition, and something he quickly attempts to correct. Not all readers preferred the change, but the adaptation made the deliberate choice that Graham was sexier by keeping flaws but discarding behavior we might consider toxic a decade later; in loving conversation with the book, rather than a direct copy. The show has been hailed for cast chemistry and has already started filming the next season, so the narrative tension seems to still hit for the majority, despite some book fans preferring the original version as the more compelling of the two. We can only hope that more ‘book boyfriends’ who respect women follow.
Bridgerton has also changed their book boyfriend in anticipation for the upcoming Season 5, as the hotly debated ‘Franchaela’ season sees Michael Sterling of the Bridgerton books, the love interest for Francesca Bridgerton, swapped for Michaela Sterling instead. Bridgerton has made several large additions to the original novels — published in the early 2000s — which have seen far less backlash, including queer representation in Benedict. While there has been some backlash to the Michaela reveal, many fans are looking forward to the ‘queer joy’ and yearning we’re set to see on our screens, specifically the sapphic representation as youth queer literature and media continues to suffer. The romance genre that once featured mainly straight, white, rich men is becoming more diverse, thanks to indie publishers and self publishing. But it has to be noted that the book-to-show adaptations getting buzz still largely feature heterosexual, white men with money, and focus mostly on the young adult coming-of-age experience. There is an appetite for the ‘book girlfriend’ as well as the ‘book boyfriend’, but that hasn’t necessarily translated into as many big budget adaptations currently. It has led to fans rallying around Bridgerton in anticipation of this next season, and an appetite for more diverse romances in the future.
The book boyfriends adapted on screen that have become most popular… seem to follow a different formula: they’re softer, they yearn, they’re deemed ‘pathetic’ for the ones they love.
chloe johnson
The term ‘book boyfriend’ largely comes from BookTok, – of course, BookTok isn’t the be all and end all of what’s actually being read – but it has highlighted the voracious reading habits and inner lives of certain women. A survey by Vogue revealed that 93% of BookTok users are women. The overwhelming popularity of the subgenre of Tik Tok has given way to BookTok reader lists, fangirl clubs and whole entire careers dedicated to being a true, obsessive fan, so it makes sense that producers and studios have caught on to this flourishing eco-system. It seems to solve a major problem; we’re just not feeling the rom-com magic like we used to. Enter: BookTok adaptations, and their book boyfriends. If you manage to get the casting chemistry just right for your leading couple and add a killer soundtrack, you have an inbuilt audience that might get the TikTok algorithm to bless you with a viral moment in the form of fan edits to Noah Kahan. You also often have an inbuilt universe for fans to get invested in while they wait for the next season.
No wonder Netflix has just released a ‘Watch Your Favorite Books’ hub, and incredibly exciting update for book fans. My Lady Jane, People We Meet On Vacation, The Summer I Turned Pretty, Bridgerton, Finding Her Edge, and Heated Rivalry to name just a few of the hit adaptations we’ve seen in recent years. More are upcoming: Fourth Wing, Every Year After, Sense And Sensibility, The Love Hypothesis, Chestnut Springs. These adaptations are moving behemoths of copies and streams per month. It makes business sense.
The genre isn’t all roses, though. There are criticisms to be had especially around representation of race, class and disability in the romance genre, moral inflation in fandoms, media literacy and the lack of support for original IP, for definite. At their worst, a boom in translating ‘book boyfriends’ to screen can reinforce toxic, misogynistic standards, lead to problematic parasocial shipping of real-life actors and shift the focus of female-led stories over to the men. Fandom edges can be razor sharp, after all.
The way studios are pouncing on the ‘book boyfriend’ trend also can’t be separated from the wider media turn towards re-using the old and the tested, whether that’s nostalgic remakes or adaptations of viral books, instead of investing in new ideas. Book adaptations are trending more widely; Sunrise on the Reaping, Hail Mary, Margo’s Got Money Troubles, Verity and The Odyssey are just a few of the book adaptations that we’ve seen or are due to see on screen this year outside of romance. It’s great for books fans and not inherently a problem on its own but according to Richard Wells: “films adapted from books now generate 53% more revenue than original screenplays, with adaptation success rates of 77% for spin-offs compared to just 46% for original films.’” It’s clear that shows like Off-Campus are an easy smash-hit, but we also need to champion the next Elle Kennedy, too, as debut creative writers in both Hollywood and publishing face constant challenges.
Romantasy and romance has become a buzzword for hatred and worship alike, and saying you’re into Off-Campus certainly doesn’t come with much cultural cache – but for most people, it’s not exactly ‘cringe’ anymore either.
chloe johnson
‘Book boyfriends’ are tasked with delivering emotional consistency while the real-life dating landscape is starved for certainty, often defined by digital detachment, disappointment and fatigue of all kinds. They bring dopamine-heavy enjoyment from engaging in a shared passion, a reclaiming of our inner ‘cringe’ childhood, and an opportunity to analyse and update the media we’re consuming based on current thoughts and feelings. Some people might look down upon this bustling ‘book boyfriend’ ecosystem. Romantasy and romance has become a buzzword for hatred and worship alike, and saying you’re into Off-Campus certainly doesn’t come with much cultural cache – but for most people, it’s not exactly ‘cringe’ anymore either.
Romance book adaptations are both a little bit whimsical and deeply serious at the same time; feelings propel analytical takes in video essays and on Substack, while analyzing further feeds these excited feelings. For many, but especially for neurodivergent fans and those struggling with their mental health, characters, worlds and fandoms not only offer enjoyment but a way to safely explore feelings and scenarios within a fictitious, structured reality. In a time when toxic masculinity, incel and ultra-conservative culture is on the rise, it’s refreshing to see not only men be emotionally vulnerable and still be deemed sexy but also men supporting their love interests with their hobbies, interests and emotional inner world. In short: actually liking and respecting women as people. We can only hope this becomes the standard for what we can expect from book boyfriends coming to our screen in the future (plus some dancing to GIRLS by Kid Laroi).
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