Why So Much Cozy? Thoughts on Jam, Cheese, and the Rise of Cozy Fantasy

When I tell people that my new book is cozy fantasy, I usually hear one of two responses:

 “Oh, wow, that’s really trending right now. I’ve been seeing cozy fantasy everywhere.”

Or:

“What’s cozy fantasy?”

I have about twelve different answers to the second question, and they’re all true. Cozy fantasy is like Lord of the Rings, but you never leave the Shire. Cozy fantasy is like cozy mystery but with magic instead of murder. Cozy fantasy is a type of comfort read, a subset of optimistic fantasy, that is characterized by low stakes and high emotional resonance. Cozy fantasy is a vibe.

 It’s about as easy to define a subgenre as it is to hold sand in your hand on a windy beach. You can close your fist around it for a while, but as soon as you loosen your grip, the wind will eat away at the grains. But I like the last answer the best:

Cozy fantasy is defined by how it makes a reader feel.

It feels like a warm hug. Or a deep breath. It feels like the sun on your face and the breeze on your bare skin. It feels like a day spent with a friend — the kind of friend that you can just be with. No judgment. No drama. Just friendship and maybe some really good cheese.

It provides a sanctuary, a respite, an escape.

And that definition explains why cozy fantasy is currently a very large trend in the publishing world. It’s been a tough couple of years with no clear sign of improvement on the horizon, and a lot of us could use an escape.

 The rise of cozy fantasy can be traced back to March 2020. When the world abruptly changed and our daily lives were disrupted so profoundly, a lot of readers responded by diving into books, searching for stories that would offer a feeling of hope and comfort. Simultaneously, a number of writers responded to the sudden influx of existential dread and fear by scrapping whatever they were working on before and developing stories that would let them feel joy and peace. The events of the external world created a perfect storm of both readers and writers craving the same dose of serotonin.

Optimistic escapist fantasy has always existed — all literature arises from all prior literature; we’re in constant conversation with the writers of the past — but it took 2020 for the label of “cozy fantasy” to appear and grow.

 For me, the book that kicked it all off was The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune — a sweet found-family romance about an orphanage full of quirky, magical kids. It was followed soon after by Legends and Lattes by Travis Baldree, in which a tired-of-battle orc opens a coffeeshop, and The Very Secret Society of Irregular Witches by Sangu Mandanna, about an isolated witch who becomes a tutor to three young children, breaking every rule of her coven in the process. Soon after, they were joined by Emily Wilde’s Encyclopaedia of Faeries by Heather Fawcett, the first in a cozy series about a curmudgeonly scholar and her Fae prince.

 After reading those books, I knew I wanted to write a book that made me feel the way those books made me feel, and I know I’m not the only one.

 Several new cozy fantasies have appeared on the shelves recently. This past spring brought Can’t Spell Treason Without Tea by Rebecca Thorne, about a warrior and a wizard who defy a cruel queen in order to open a tea shop; The Honey Witch by Sydney J. Shields, about a honey witch cursed to never find love; and Dreadful by Caitlin Rozakis, about a formerly evil wizard who has lost his memory.

This summer, my book, The Spellshop, came out. It’s about a rogue librarian and her best friend, Caz, a sentient spider plant, who take on the low-stakes market of illegal spellmaking and the high-risk business of starting over. It’s full of stolen spellbooks, winged cats, quirky new friends, merhorses, raspberry jam, and a kind neighbor with a smile like the sun coming out from behind the clouds over a stormy sea. 

And this fall, The Teller of Small Fortunes by Julie Leong will come out— it’s about an immigrant fortune teller who accidentally finds herself a family (and invents fortune cookies in the process).

I’m obviously only mentioning a few. There are many more. And there are many non-cozy books that include a cozy fantasy element, such as Lore of the Wilds by Analeigh Sbrana and The Enchanted Hacienda by J.C. Cervantes.

What do all these books have in common? Vibes, yes, but they also share a common emphasis on the importance of empathy, kindness, and connecting with others. Most include found families, supportive friends, and nontoxic romantic relationships. 

All these books use humor, especially banter, to lighten the tone. Most have quirky side characters. Like cozy mysteries, they frequently take place in a single location, which is often someplace tonally light, sweet, quirky, or all of the above.

And almost all of them feature scenes with lovingly detailed descriptions of food and drink. In The Spellshop, I have a paragraph about eating cheese, many paragraphs about eating cinnamon rolls, and an entire chapter devoted to making raspberry jam. This fixation of food is part of how these novels explore themes of living in the moment, finding joy in the small things, and embracing delight and wonder. Either that or cozy fantasy writers are just constantly peckish. (Full disclosure: I ate a LOT of cheese while writing The Spellshop.)

But I believe the one thing that all cozy fantasy has in common — and the reason so many writers and readers are drawn to it — is hope.

Hope for a better day. Hope for a second chance. Hope for love and family and friendship and kindness. Hope for a really good piece of cheese.

Sarah Beth Durst is the author of The Spellshop, which is available wherever books are sold.