A Court of Thorns and Roses: What’s in a Fantasy
People often use the epithet “fairy porn” when discussing Sarah J Maas’s books. Her most popular work, A Court of Thorns and Roses, is a fantasy romance series filled with preternaturally attractive, capable men, imperfect yet perfect heroines, and detailed sex scenes — all encrusted with magic. In this land, humans and Fae live apart; the Fae — lethal and beautiful — are divided into seven courts with different affinities like Night, Day, Dawn, Spring, Autumn, and so forth. We follow Feyre Archeron, a human who eventually becomes a Fae, as she’s embroiled in Fae politics and wars. Despite the intrigue, it’s the romance that has turned the books into a social media sensation, with a fan base mostly composed of younger women: They repudiate claims of literary depth, instead framing it as an escapist adventure for them to sink into. Critics decry it as unrealistic, “chick-lit,” stereotypical material that is nothing more than smut — explicit sex without substance. While opinions are polarized, the series’ portrayal of sex through the female gaze does invite its readers to find empowerment, affirmation of pleasure, and sexual liberation — because of, and not in spite of, its seemingly superficial depiction of sex and gender. However, this comes with the consequence of leaving out marginalized identities like queer folks and people of color. As a result, A Court of Thorns and Roses does provide a space for the audience to experience pleasure, but it doesn’t reflect how sex intersects with identity, nor does it include everyone — producing an effect that is indulging, but incomplete.
Smut and the Erotic
In the series’ most notorious scene — where Feyre and Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, have sex for the first time — we see how smut becomes an extension of the erotic, mingling emotional connection and liberation with pure physical pleasure. At first glance, smut and the erotic seem different by orders of magnitude: The erotic is a lifestyle, a philosophy; Audre Lorde rarely mentions the specific act of sex in her writings, instead touching on endeavors that restore and reinvigorate (Lorde 89). Smut, on the other hand, are mere descriptions of sex. Rhysand performs oral sex on Feyre, their arousal, their orgasms — all of it is given in graphic detail, lacking the spirituality of the erotic (Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury 532). However, the similarities are apparent when we consider the opposite of the erotic, pornography, which Lorde defines as “sensation without feeling” (Lorde 88). Rhysand and Feyre’s sex is rife with the sensation of pleasure, but also feelings of love and devotion. Their sex happens on the heels of Feyre finally declaring her love to him after a devastating argument, forgiving him and vowing to be by his side through the war. Their sex, however steamy and graphic, actually begins with a soft kiss between the two of them as they cry (Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury 529). Knowing this, their sex becomes a passionate rather than pornographic affair to readers, their physical pleasure an expression of love that was previously stifled. Their sex is liberation, a core tenet of the erotic.
If the erotic is more feeling than sensation, and pornography is sensation without feeling, then smut is both sensation and feeling: It evokes fulfillment and freedom for the characters and the readers, through the bodily enjoyment of sex.
Indeed, the erotic places an importance on undefinable knowledge — what simply feels right — and the satisfaction of visceral desires, which can all be conveyed in a carnal sense: Their sex happens seamlessly, painlessly; the belonging and rightness compared to an “unbreakable chain, an undimmable ray of light” ((Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury 534). Feyre repeatedly voices her desires to Rhysand, unashamed in her pursuit of pleasure — which is seen as cheesy and bawdy. Criticisms of smut, and of the young women who enjoy it, tie into a long history of denying women the power of the erotic. It carries the same underlying current of shaming young women for indulging in what feels good, and right, by discrediting it as “dis-intellectual” or “cringy.” Through Rhysand and Feyre’s sex scene, readers can obtain a sense of the erotic — of deep connection with others and with yourself — that is funneled through explicit physical pleasure.
The Female Gaze Behind Smut
Furthermore, Feyre and Rhysand relationship is powered by the female gaze, which caters to a female fantasy that countermands the male gaze. Rhysand is characterized as the most beautiful, powerful High Lord; he is also an adept strategist, a dangerous warrior — the archetype of a perfect hero. In Laura Mulvey’s text, the male gaze is objectifying, reducing women to mere sources of gratification (Mulvey 806). But the female gaze here intends to demonstrate men fulfilling female desire without straying into objectification. Indeed, the female gaze affirms a key craving that the male gaze does not: Agency and equality in a relationship, in a sexual and non-sexual context. Nonsexually, Rhysand, despite all his prowess, is still given history, complexity, and importance. They are equals, vulnerable about their fears and forthright about setting boundaries (Maas, A Court of Mist and Fury 336). Moreover, while Feyre begins as a human, Rhysand plays an instrumental part in her rise to power and reclamation of self (Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin 64). Feyre herself is a perfect heroine, creating an experience in which readers can vicariously envision a best version of themselves, strong and certain.
Sexually, Rhysand’s physical perfection is simply another avenue to secure agency and equality: Just as the male gaze creates an ideal of a woman, so does the female gaze home in on a paragon of a man — one that can satisfy his partner on all fronts, a partner women have been ridiculed for asking for. In the male gaze, the woman is powerless to empower the man (Mulvey 810). In the female gaze, the man empowers the woman without losing his own. The male gaze is predicated on the woman being passive, but the female gaze cannot survive a passive man. Rather, the female fantasy is of the pleasure found in a relationship that is mutually beneficial, mutually liberating. Fans do not engage in the story for its realism — Rhysand is not even human — but for its pleasurable, satisfying portrayal of relationships and sex. Through the A Court of Thorns and Roses series, readers can claim their agency and validate their wants, indulging in a story that is extreme and fantastical but acknowledges their desires.
On Representation
While Feyre and Rhysand are a source of empowerment by showcasing the pleasure found in a utopian relationship, they can’t empower readers to meaningfully process how this pleasure intersects with identity.
The series is effectively devoid of queer identities and racial concepts: Rhysand, though interpreted as Asian by many readers, is only ever described as having dark hair and tanned skin (Maas, A Court of Wings and Ruin 140).
The prominent relationships are between cis, heterosexual characters — only one character is revealed to be gay, but she is presented as straight for most of the time. There are a few other peripheral characters who are gay, but they are minor, and there is no queer representation beyond this. This fantasy forsakes the structures of inequality, prejudice, and discrimination existing in the real world. But rather than this choice creating a delightful experience for marginalized populations, the lack of characters like them thriving in this series prevents them from fully embodying the pleasure in its portrayal of sex and relationships.
Queer readers and people of color can empathize with the pleasure of this fantasy, but they cannot truly identify with it the way that white, cishet women can. Feyre and Rhysand’s relationship is straightforward, independent of considerations to sexuality, gender, or race. But for queer readers and people of color, sexuality, gender, and race are inextricably linked to their experiences (Crenshaw 139). They cannot truly resonate with the liberation proffered by this series, because it does not acknowledge their specific desires: The female gaze captures the joy of agency and equality, but it does not account for how identity rubs against these wants. It does not account for how marginalized communities ask for not only agency and equality, but also recognition of their complex identities, on simultaneous axes of sexuality, gender, and race (Crenshaw 166). The pleasure found is half-formed, an answer to only one part of the equation.
In Sarah J Maas’s A Court of Thorns and Roses, Rhys and and Feyre’s romance is delivered as a fairytale.
Touted as a pipe dream, a “trashy” spectacle, its popularity among younger women is certainly not due to its realistic depiction of relationships and sexuality.
Instead, it acts as diverting, affirming entertainment. It is the ultimate escapist literature, the female gaze through which it’s cast latching onto a fundamental desire for connections that are both physically and emotionally pleasurable. Counteracting a history in which women are placed on the backburner in service of the male gaze, Feyre is the center of the narrative, receiving love and delight in a relationship that empowers her. However, while this story does enable many readers to embrace their desires, it does so at the cost of becoming narrow and simplistic. Its direct uplifting of white, cis, heterosexual young women leaves minorities on the margins. They may witness the pleasure, but they cannot fully join in. Moving forward, it is not necessarily tackiness or trashiness that fantasy books like the A Court of Thorns and Roses series should seek to change. It is the scope of representation and depiction of relationships that should be made more diverse, more intersectional. In doing so, every reader — no matter their race, gender, or sexuality — can indulge in a narrative that brings them deepest pleasure.
Works Cited
Crenshaw, Kimberle W. Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex: A Black Feminist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory, and Antiracist Politics. Columbia Law School Scholarship Archive, 1989.
Lorde, Audre. “Chapter 5.” Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power, Kore Press, 2000, pp. 87–91.
Maas, Sarah J. A Court of Thorns and Roses. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2015.
Maas, Sarah J. A Court of Mist and Fury. Bloomsbury Publishing, 2016.
Mulvey, Laura. “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema.” Screen, 1975.
