Ashley Poston used to be the "fandom" writer. If you spent any time in the late 2010s looking for YA books about nerds and cons, you knew her name. But then she pivoted. She wrote The Dead Romantics, and suddenly, everyone who normally rolls their eyes at the "romance" label started paying attention. It’s a book about a ghostwriter who can’t believe in love anymore, which is ironic, but it’s also about a literal ghost.
I’ll be honest. When I first heard the premise—a woman goes home for her father’s funeral and starts dating a ghost—I thought it sounded like a cheesy Hallmark movie with a supernatural twist. I was wrong. It’s actually a pretty brutal, beautiful look at what it feels like when your world stops spinning because someone you love died.
The book follows Florence Day. She’s a ghostwriter for one of the most famous romance novelists in the world. The problem? Florence had a bad breakup, and now she’s convinced that romance is dead. Like, buried-in-the-ground dead. When her new editor, Benji Andor, refuses to give her an extension on her book, things get tense. Then, Florence’s father dies, she goes back to her small town, and who should show up on the doorstep of her family’s funeral home?
Benji.
Also, he’s dead.
Why The Dead Romantics resonates in 2026
We’ve seen a massive shift in how people consume "beach reads." Readers are tired of the "perfect person meets perfect person" trope. They want mess. They want reality. The Dead Romantics hits that sweet spot because it acknowledges that life is often just a series of awkward, painful, and funny moments stacked on top of each other.
Poston doesn't shy away from the grosser parts of death, either. The Day family runs a funeral parlor. Growing up around corpses has given Florence a very specific, slightly macabre worldview. It’s a refreshing change from the sanitized version of mourning we usually get in fiction. There is a specific scene involving a "death mid-sentence" that feels so grounded and human it actually hurts to read.
One of the most interesting things about the book’s success is how it treats the "ghost" element. Benji isn't some Victorian specter rattling chains. He’s just a guy who isn't ready to go. Their chemistry works because it isn't based on physical touch—at least not at first. It’s based on talking. Imagine that. A romance where people actually have to communicate because they can’t do anything else.
The "Ghostwriter" irony isn't just a pun
Florence’s job is a huge part of her identity. She creates love stories for other people while her own life feels like a vacuum. This is a real thing that happens to creative professionals. You spend all day pouring your emotional energy into a project, and by 5:00 PM, you have nothing left for yourself.
Poston captures that burnout perfectly.
The industry pressure Florence feels from her publishing house is also incredibly realistic. If you’ve ever worked in media or publishing, the frantic emails and the "we need this yesterday" energy from Benji (before he dies) will give you mild anxiety. It’s a smart commentary on how we commodify emotions. We expect writers to churn out "heartfelt" content on a schedule, regardless of whether their own heart is actually functioning at the time.
Breaking down the tropes (and why they work)
Every romance novel has tropes. That’s the "contract" with the reader. But The Dead Romantics flips them just enough to keep you off balance.
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- The Grumpy/Sunshine Dynamic: Usually, the guy is the grump. Here, Florence is the one who is cynical and jaded, while Benji—even in death—has this weird, persistent optimism.
- Small Town Return: Florence hates her hometown. Or she thinks she does. Returning to a place where everyone knows your "weird" family is a classic setup, but it’s handled with a lot of grace here.
- Forced Proximity: It’s hard to get more "forced" than being the only person who can see a specific ghost.
Honestly, the "Only One Bed" trope gets a major upgrade when one person can literally walk through walls.
Grief is the secret protagonist
If you go into this book expecting only fluff, you’re going to be surprised. It’s heavy. The relationship between Florence and her father is the real spine of the story. Poston explores the idea that we don't just mourn the person; we mourn the version of ourselves we were when they were alive.
There’s a nuance to the way the Day family grieves. They don't just cry. They work. They organize. They argue about what flowers to use. It’s a very specific kind of "funeral director" grief that feels deeply researched and authentic. You get the sense that Poston either spent a lot of time in funeral homes or talked to people who did.
What most people get wrong about Benji Andor
There’s a common critique that Benji is "too perfect." People say he’s the "man written by a woman" archetype—thoughtful, observant, and emotionally intelligent.
But I’d argue that’s the point.
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Benji is a projection of what Florence needs to see to believe in love again. He’s a bridge. Whether he’s a "real" ghost or a manifestation of her subconscious (no spoilers, but the ending clarifies this), he serves a narrative purpose that goes beyond just being a love interest. He is the personification of the idea that something can be gone but still have an impact.
How to actually approach reading this book
If you’re planning on picking up The Dead Romantics, don't rush it. It’s a quick read, sure—most contemporary romances are—but the prose is better than the average "cartoon cover" book. Poston has a way of phrasing things that makes you want to highlight the page.
- Prepare for the emotional shift. The first 50 pages feel like a standard rom-com. The middle 100 pages feel like a meditation on death.
- Look for the Easter eggs. Poston loves pop culture. There are nods to other books and movies scattered throughout that make the world feel lived-in.
- Read the Author's Note. Usually, people skip these. Don't. It gives a lot of context on why she wrote this specific story and her own experiences with loss.
The ending is polarizing. Some people find it a bit too "neat," while others think it’s the only way the story could have ended. Personally? I think in a world that is increasingly cynical and difficult, a "neat" ending isn't a flaw. It’s a relief. We have enough ambiguity in real life. Sometimes, you just want the ghost to find a way to stay, or at least to leave on good terms.
Actionable insights for readers and writers
If you’re a reader looking for your next fix, or a writer trying to understand why this book blew up, here is the takeaway: vulnerability sells. The reason The Dead Romantics stayed on the bestseller lists isn't because of the ghost. It’s because it feels like a secret being told to a friend. If you want to dive deeper into this genre, look for "Speculative Romance." It’s a growing field where authors take one impossible element—like a ghost or a time loop—and use it to explore very real human problems.
Next steps for fans:
- Check out The Seven Year Slip by Ashley Poston if you liked the magical realism elements.
- Look into the works of Casey McQuiston if you enjoyed the sharp, modern dialogue and the way the book handles identity.
- If the funeral home setting was your favorite part, try Everyone in My Family Has Killed Someone by Benjamin Stevenson for a very different, but equally atmospheric, take on family dynamics.
Ultimately, this book proves that romance doesn't have to be shallow. It can be a way to process the hardest things we go through. It reminds us that even when things end, they aren't necessarily over.