Novels have always reflected technology. How we write fiction changed after the invention of photography, radio, film and email. This month we look at two romance novels that make a strong case for what we might call the Instagram or TikTok voice, as well as a historical that reminds us that the past is not as different a country as we might wish.

By Adriana Herrera

The heroine of A TROPICAL REBEL GETS THE DUKE (Canary Street, 424 pp., paperback, $18.99), Doctora Aurora Montalban, was neglected as a child and later disdained by male peers. Now that she’s running an illegal women’s clinic in Belle Époque Paris, Aurora’s long-established defenses are the emotional equivalent of a portcullis with a moat and battlements. She’s loathed Apollo, the brash and beautiful biracial Duke of Annan, since the instant they met — but after she has to bring a client to the apartment he uses for his romantic trysts, and he tells her to keep the key, Aurora decides she might as well put the duke and his beautiful body to a more carnal use. But only temporarily — the duke will eventually need a duchess, and Aurora’s reputation is far too tarnished to help him conquer polite society.

This romance is harrowing in a way that hits all too close at the moment: It’s brutal about the dangers of outlawing abortion and contraception, and frank about the harm women come to at the hands of men who use sex as a weapon. It’s a testament to Herrera’s skill that a book with so many unflinching realities is also so unapologetically sexy. Aurora’s self-enforced loneliness evokes the deepest pity, and it’s gratifying to see how quickly the stubborn, fiery Apollo learns to indulge and comfort her. The man is, as they say, down bad.

By Julian Winters

I THINK THEY LOVE YOU (St. Martin’s Griffin, 336 pp., paperback, $18) reads the way an Instagram filter looks. Denzel “Denz” Carter is the social media director for his family’s powerhouse event-planning company, so it would be strange if he didn’t sound like a born and raised child of the internet. But when his father announces his retirement, and pits Denz against his Type A older sister for the position of chief executive, Denz knows he’ll need to hustle if he wants the job.

That’s when he runs into his college ex, the man who shattered Denz’s heart. Newly returned from London, working with a nonprofit agency for queer youth, Braylon needs Denz’s political connections — and in return, he offers to pose as Denz’s boyfriend to make him look stable and settled. Fake relationships, we know, never stay fake for long — and Denz is not prepared for the way Braylon’s new accent and familiar charms mount a dual assault on the distance he’s trying to maintain.

We’re purely in Denz’s head for this emotional roller coaster. Romances told from a single character’s point of view used to be the exception rather than the rule, outside of the chick lit trend around the turn of the millennium, but they’re flourishing on BookTok and in younger reader spaces. It’s tempting to theorize this is at least in part because social media is itself experienced through a single perspective: You see what your account can see, and anything happening behind the curtain on other accounts may as well be invisible. Evading a block via a secondary account is considered a little shady, and I have to wonder if this makes a change in narrator feel subliminally dishonest to readers steeped in this mode of discourse.

By Bal Khabra

In SPIRAL (Berkley, 357 pp., paperback, $19), which does shift between the two leads’ perspectives, social media is primarily a site of deception, illusion and rumor. Once again we’re in fake dating territory: The rookie pro hockey player Eli needs a girlfriend as a shield against intrusive press questions and aggressive female fans. His friend arranges a date with Sage, a Black ballerina who’s just learned that auditioning for her dream role is contingent on having a significant following on social media. Eli’s intense following will juice Sage’s numbers, and Sage’s presence in photos will let the press focus on Eli’s game rather than his reputation off the ice.

As they curate their social media accounts, both Eli and Sage choose images to maintain the narrative that they are carefree, successful and happy, though they each have struggles they’re desperate to keep hidden. They are constantly switching between selves — the confident professional, the traumatized child, the teasing friend — and the book’s emotional journey lies in finding where their real, solid truths lie.