The Lippin Group (www.lippingroup.com, https://linktr.ee/thelippingroup)
On Christmas Day in 2020, Netflix released the first season of Bridgerton, a TV adaptation of Julia Quinn’s historical romance novel series of the same name. Produced by Shondaland and set in an alternative version of Regency London, the TV series follows the romantic journeys of the titular siblings. The show has since grown into a phenomenon, influencing culture, fashion, and trends over the course of four seasons in six years. Bridgerton-inspired balls were popping up all over Los Angeles while the colors blue and lavender trended on FashionTok; fans were taking PTO from their jobs to binge whole seasons on release day and Season 4 had us all doing a Cotillion in our kitchens.
Yet despite Bridgerton’s success as a historical romance title, historical romance as a genre from TV to movies and books, doesn’t seem to be enjoying the fruits of that success. In February of this year, Harlequin announced that it would be shuttering its historical romance line, much to the chagrin of HistRom fans and authors; another HistRom TV title, My Lady Jane, which also trended heavily in online forums and social media, was cancelled by Amazon that same year after a single season; we’ve still yet to see another HistRom book series get produced; and even popular HistRom author Lisa Kleypas’ comeback title The Queen of Lombard Street is a regular historical fiction book, with the romance seemingly de-emphasized.
There looks to be a disconnect happening between the success of Bridgerton and indeed, romance genre in TV and film in general, and the seeming decline of historical romance in the book world. But why might that be, and is all hope lost for fans and creators of the genre?
When Success on Screen Doesn’t Translate to Survival on the Shelf
When most people think of historical romance novels, they are picturing the mass-market paperbacks that their grandmothers would read, the ones with Fabio Lanzoni, shirtless with his hair flowing, a corseted debutante swooning against his abs. One of the largest publishers of such books is Harlequin Enterprises, a name that, since its founding in 1949, has since become synonymous with historical romance.
In February this year, however, Harlequin announced that, after 40 years, they were shutting down their historical line – they were no longer producing any new books, and the remaining titles in their pipeline would be their final books, slated for October 2027 releases. Many in the industry suspect that the dominance of indie historical romance authors, thanks to the great leveling forces of the Bookstagram and Booktok algorithms, is the main reason Harlequin gave up the historical line, unable to compete with the growing popularity of indies. But others believe that Harlequin’s shuttering of such a popular line is a symptom of a broader declining appetite for historical content in general.
“I can’t comment on historical romance, but seeing talk of the closure of Harlequin’s historical line reminds me of a [conversation] I was just having with my film agent a few days ago,” said Silvia Moreno Garcia on Threads, the New York Times bestselling author of Mexican Gothic. “She said historical is just not being optioned… Of course film and books are not the same, but last summer talking to some editors they mentioned something similar, that historical in [general] is not moving like it did.”
Garcia then summarizes her colleagues’ theories, pointing out that for many readers and viewers, the same feeling of being “transported” or “lost in time” can be achieved by Romantasy without the fuss and bother of trying to be “historically accurate.”
But for many fans of historical romance novels, the history matters just as much as the romance – they love the lush details and the feeling of being transported through time that comes with reading historical romance, and the genteel social norms of past time periods lend themselves well to the creation of scenes and plots where yearning and desire can take the spotlight. The repressed social rules of Regency England made us swoon over a brushing of hands or blush over prolonged eye contact.
Although Bridgerton, the TV series, does still have all those things, it deviates from the original novels by setting the story in an alternate historical setting. While still being set loosely in Regency-era London, the show features historically inaccurate costumes, makeup, and hair and a cast that, though wonderfully diverse, would not be typical for the actual time period. In doing so, Bridgerton becomes historical fantasy, not historical romance—and the mismatch in audience expectations follows. So, despite Bridgerton’s success as a historical romance TV series, fans of the show may not feel the drive to read more historical romance novels, given that what they love and enjoy about the TV series may not be present in the books.
The Mistress Problem, Or What Happens When HistRom Tropes Meet Modern Audiences
This disconnect is also evident in how historical romance tropes are received by non-fans, particularly when those tropes are transplanted onto the screen without the context genre readers instinctively bring with them. A prime example is the controversy surrounding Benedict Bridgerton’s storyline with Sophie in Bridgerton Season 4. In both the book and the show, Benedict proposes that Sophie become his mistress, an idea that provoked significant backlash from TV audiences, many of whom viewed the suggestion as demeaning or even cruel. But among readers of the novel, the emotional offense of the scene lies elsewhere: Sophie’s fear is not of social impropriety, but of giving birth to a bastard child who might suffer the same precarity and stigma she herself endured.
Within the historical context of the time, being a kept woman was not a romantic ideal, but neither was it the worst possible fate for a woman without wealth or protection. When viewed through a modern lens, however, the concept of mistresshood feels regressive at best and insulting at worst. These are scenes that fans of historical romance novels are familiar with, but without the genre context to reframe that tension for non-fans, historical romance can appear out of step with contemporary values rather than in conversation with them. Moments like this reveal how easily historical romance can be misunderstood by broader audiences and how that misunderstanding may contribute to the perception that the genre itself is outdated, even when its storytelling logic remains internally consistent and emotionally resonant.
How Bridgerton Narrowed the Door It Opened
Some HistRom fans and influencers also feel that while Bridgerton was a wonderful breakout for the genre, it also limited opportunities for other HistRom books and content because audiences only craved more Regency-era content. It is certainly true that Regency-era content seems to be cropping up more often than other time periods – Netflix announced a new Pride and Prejudice mini-series coming in 2026 for example and BBC’s currently-streaming The Other Bennett Sister adapts the same book from Mary Bennett’s point-of-view. Despite having a passionate online fandom, My Lady Jane, a historical romance series set in Tudor-era England, premiered in June 2024 and was swiftly cancelled two months later after just one season. Although difficult to prove that not being set in the Regency is the reason why it was cancelled, it does still follow that pattern, and My Lady Jane’s fans are still livid over the decision.
Hollywood’s Renewed Love Affair With the Past
And yet, it would be a mistake to read this moment as a death knell rather than a pivot. If anything, the broader screen landscape suggests that audiences are hungry for history again. Just not a single, monolithic version of it. One of Bridgerton’s greatest strengths (and the reason, I believe, for its staying power) is its intentionally diverse casting, which invites a broader audience to see themselves inside a genre that has long excluded them, transforming historical romance from niche nostalgia into a vibrant, contemporary fantasy.
In a similar vein, shows like Julian Fellowes’ The Gilded Age prove there’s an appetite for meticulously realized period worlds, one where diverse perspectives are considered and included; Hamnet’s awards-season dominance underscores how deeply historical emotional stories can resonate; and the continued success of literary adaptations across genres makes one thing clear: books remain Hollywood’s most reliable IP. From MGM and Amazon’s adaptation of Project Hail Mary to Andy Serkis’ upcoming The Lord of the Rings: The Hunt for Gollum, from Emily Henry’s expanding Netflix universe to buzzy, timeline-dominating adaptations like Heated Rivalry, we seem to be entering a new golden age of book-to-screen storytelling.
For marketers and communicators championing historical romance, the lesson may be less about chasing the next Bridgerton and more about reframing the genre’s value: not as quaint or nostalgic, but as sensorial, cinematic, and emotionally modern. Historical romance already does what screen adaptations crave: big feelings, clear stakes, richly realized worlds, and the success of adjacent historical projects proves the audience is there. If history is being rediscovered on screen through fantasy, horror, and prestige drama, there’s every reason to believe love stories set in the past can follow.