I have now read a grand total of two dark romances. The first was so utterly shit that I didn’t attempt the genre again for a few years. While it was a very popular book, it was not at all appealing, and afterward I wasn’t sure what were hallmarks of the genre and what was just bad writing. I see now how wrong I was. It was plain bad writing. Butcher and Blackbird is the second one I’ve read. I realise it is on the lighter side of dark, but darker than an ordinary contemporary certainly.
What surprised me the most about reading a dark romance is not the things I assumed would take me aback, like sexual assault or violence, but how incredibly vulnerable reading this book made me feel. It really felt like some of my most deep-seated, primal needs were brought out into the light and spoken to directly. Things that I had long ago forgotten about or dealt with. I almost want to submit this review anonymously because to speak about Butcher and Blackbird is to allow myself to be really seen – which is scary.
Rowan and Sloane are serial killers who avenge the deaths of innocents by murdering serial killers. They meet by chance at a murder scene gone wrong and from there have an annual murder competition. Of course it is also a romance, so they fall in love. Rowan is reckless and falls in love quickly. It takes Sloane a long time to make peace with falling in love with Rowan.
Rowan is passionate about his career (being a chef and restaurateur) and murdering bad people. Sloane doesn’t have the same career ambition as Rowan. She’s an artist that has been stifled by her childhood. She’s more focused on wondering if she’s lovable or not. She only has one friend and she isn’t at all close to her family. Both Rowan and Sloane had terrible experiences in childhood. Despite Sloane’s insecurities, she’s a dangerous killer herself, but she still needs rescuing (from physical danger, but also emotionally) by Rowan. As I write this now a few days after finishing the book, I’m confused by how much I enjoyed the damsel-in-distress stuff. There is evidently still an insecure little girl somewhere inside me that wants to be adored, protected and cherished and saved from Bad Stuff.
My primary sticking point was the plot arc. I do not know if it is just the way dark romances are structured or if it was just this book (please let me know in the comments) but at around 75% in, things had resolved. They were in love and happy. But there was 25% of the book to go?
Turns out the bleak moment was a moment of danger that required the unleashing of some murderous tendencies. THEN they were happy. While the groundwork for the dangerous moment had been set, it still took me by surprise. It somehow made the story feel uneven.
They were 100% happy, so why did something need to go wrong? Did they need to prove their love again through overcoming something dangerous?
This puzzled me.
As to my secret tendencies, the possessive love Rowan has for Sloane spoke to me. I could feel myself reacting on an elemental level to the overwhelming possessiveness, the rough sex, the murderous tendencies. But once the book was done and I returned to my normal life, I was genuinely puzzled by the impact those things had on me while I was reading.
Reading Butcher and Blackbird has made me even more curious about the genre, and where my limits are in terms of content warnings. I was truly absorbed into the plot and also by my reaction to the characters and their dynamic. I shall certainly be reading more dark romance. It’s fascinating to me how this book affected me while I was reading it.
Am I alone in experiencing dark romances like this? Is your experience with them different?
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I used to read a lot of dark romance—like on any given week, half of my reading would be dark mafia/secret society/fairy-tale retellings from Natasha Knight, Skye Warren, A. Zavarelli, etc. I don’t read as much nowadays—tastes and times change—but I’ll still grab the occasional dark story if the premise grabs me. What I always like in a dark romance is that no matter how bad the “hero” is (and some of them are pretty damn awful), there’s always a more horrible make somewhere in the frame (often the heroine’s father, uncle, brother, etc.), and the heroine (herself the product of dysfunction but also generally clear-eyed about how to navigate toxic spaces) has to find a way to manipulate the situation to the best outcome for her (which might not always be what the reader would consider the most appropriate outcome). In her earlier books, Skye Warren was one of the best at showing how generational trauma and dysfunction would create a dynamic where only someone who has been through similar situations could understand and share love (Cate C. Wells’s NICKY THE DRIVER also does this brilliantly). An interesting thing I see happening quite a bit lately is a similar dark dynamic emerging in m/m romance: Rina Kent’s GOD OF FURY and KISS THE VILLAIN being good examples.
Excellent, thoughtful review. I haven’t read much that, so far as I know, would have been described as “dark” – except for the Magpie world books by KJ Charles. And in those, the objectively bad deeds are (to me) somewhat excused by the magical setting. There are clear and well-drawn parallels to actual Victorian British history and its plethora of capital crimes, but the reader doesn’t have to grapple with the fact that they’re cheering for actual killers. Plus, the characterizations are, while fleetly delivered, extremely complete and thus comprehensible.
Generally speaking, I can’t cheer for actual killers. I avoid serial-killer plotlines to the extent that I quit reading the ‘In Death’ series by J.D. Robb because serial killers kept popping up and I was equal parts bored, annoyed, and grossed out. Graphic violence is not a hard line for me, but gratuitous violence is.
When I read a “dark romance” blurb, it usually comes across as an extreme version of the redemption arc which used to be common (maybe it still is? I don’t read much F/M these days either), where an alphole hero is “really a good guy,” he’s just been “forced by circumstance” to act like a violent, abusive, controlling dick, and love for/by the heroine is supposed to magically deliver the equivalent of 10 years of intensive psychiatry.
Not interested in those guys, IRL or otherwise. They are certainly not what I would consider a good bet for a lasting, mutually supportive, intelligently negotiated relationship and thus not romance heroes I can get behind.
Stop being a violent, abusive, controlling dick, get the abundance of therapy you clearly need, and *then* I’ll consider you as a potential romance hero. 🙂 A dark back story can be an interesting character trait. Otherwise: NOPE.
I was looking at a list of dark romances ranked by how dark they are and realized that almost all of what I’ve read is on the lighter sided. (Do we think of that as dark-lite or diet dark?) I’m OK with that, but I can’t speak to full range of what is out there.
So, what I do think about dark romance is that it is fun to be a little bit afraid. Just from a brain chemistry point of view, there’s something about adrenaline that amplifies your awareness and the resulting dopamine hit can be addictive. Essentially, if you read something a little scary then your brain goes, can we get some more of that please. And, unlike in a horror novel, in a romance there will be something that resembles a happy ending, which makes it a relatively safe space to read about scary things.
My theory on the appeal of possessive heroes is that in a fictional setting, they are also “safe”. In a real world relationship, opening up and getting to know another person is terrifying. You might reveal something that they can’t handle, and drive them away. Or, you’ll learn something about them that leads to a break up. IRL, both options are scary. But, the fictional possessive heroes aren’t going anywhere no matter what, and we don’t want them to. And that’s the foundation for the trust required for the relationship. I’m not sure that bit of pop psychology plays out well in reality, but I can see how it works with fiction.
I haven’t read a lot of dark romance, though I do like J.T. Geissinger quite a bit and have also read several Mafia books in the past, and a lot of the romantasy I’ve read also fits under the dark romance umbrella. I dislike gore and battles, though I’m capable of skimming over it for a good story, especially a good love story. There’s a lot of gore in the Ruinous Love trilogy, which this book is part of.
Ditto the smart things @C said above on possessive heroes.
The thing about BUTCHER & BLACKBIRD and the rest of this series is that unusually for dark romance, they’re funny. They’re over the top in an amusing way.
I started this one thinking it likely wasn’t for me but the humour really carried it for me. My favourite of the trilogy was SCYTHE & SPARROW (the third) but I found all worth reading. I especially enjoyed the audio, which highlighted the humour.
I would say most dark romance takes itself way seriously–these don’t. They know they’re over the top and lean in with a smirk. Or is it a wink?
Sadly, the first in her new series didn’t work as well for me.
I think four things make Ruinous Love more palatable to people who don’t generally read dark romance.
1. Yeah, they’re serial killers, but they’re vigilante killers. They kill predators.
2. They’re funny.
3. The dudes aren’t very toxically masculine or misogynistic. They care about consent and have feelings that aren’t aggression, lust, and dominance. Rowan in particular is a sentimental weeper.
And
4. There’s no real power differential between partners.
I think I agree with C about why possessive heroes can work in for me in fiction, when in real life I’d find someone like that stifling and frightening. It’s like the hero who just knows what the heroine wants sexually or even just happens to like exactly what turns the heroine on, when in reality there is a lot of fun to be had in negotiating all of that for both partners. In both cases getting to know someone is exposing and risky, either partner may find that some part of the other person or their likes is a relationship breaker so the whole process is scary as well as exciting, and we obviously can’t control that. In life we have to trust that if the relationship doesn’t work the other person will not exploit what they have learnt about us, it’s the flip side of the whole ‘getting to know you’ process.
I own this book, just haven’t picked it up yet. Your review is encouraging, Lara. Thanks.
SBTB is reading my mind! I read Tourist Season by this author a few days ago, and I did enjoy it. This is not usually my kind of book, and I do admit I skipped over some of the violent stuff. Then I read this one, and did the same thing. She is a really good writer-I’d love to read something by her that wasn’t about serial killers.
I stumbled across this trilogy at the public library. I think they had #2, Leather & Lark, in a display of new books and it looked really interesting. So I requested Butcher & Blackbird, because I like to read series in order if possible. I’m not usually a fan of dark romance. And, I do like mysteries and thrillers, some of which are dark serial killer stories. This reminded me of the Dexter books, with romance. I read B&B, then L&L, and finally Scythe & Sparrow. I wholeheartedly agree with Michelle about the differences: vigilante killers, funny, no power differential between partners, and dudes with feelings other than dominance. I was SO happy when I discovered Weaver is doing another, similar – though quite different, series! Tourist Season has already been read, and I eagerly await Harvest Season.
Sloane sounds like too much of a weak-kneed wet noodle for my taste; I don’t know if that’s true though!
@Lisa F: Sloane is literally a serial killer! I don’t know if that qualifies as a wet noodle lol
@Lisa F-Sloane is a total badass-scarily so!