What is Grimdark Fantasy and Is That What You Write?

Let's talk about Grimdark and how my own work is trying to advance the genre.

I wrote this piece because I get a lot of questions both in my personal life and on Substack about what “grimdark” really is and what kind of work I write. So, I wanted to talk about exactly what it means to be considered grimdark and how my own writing twists the genre a bit.

What is Grimdark Fantasy

Keep in mind that genre interpretation comes with some subjectivity baked in, and not everyone can agree on what grimdark actually means, but you’ll find these main themes throughout most grimdark fantasy:

• Morally gray characters and decisions

• Varying degrees of political corruption and societal abuse

• Cold, unforgiving worlds that mirror or even amplify real world problems

It is primarily a subgenre of fantasy (some even say of dark fantasy) that dwells in brutal, unforgiving realities that are, as the name suggests, grim and dark. The term itself comes from the Warhammer 40k series, or rather a particular line:

In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.

Grimdark stories are often depressing affairs where:

• Main characters rarely survive, and if they do, it is because they lost themselves

• Heroics and goodness go unrewarded, so they rarely appear

• Hope is replaced with unyielding cynicism and bleakness

There’s a reason the genre remains so niche!

That said, there’s a comfort in the realness of grimdark storytelling that rejects the shiny morality that comes with many “chosen one” stories. Think of the genre like a devil you know that tucks you in at night, not a guardian angel.

Unless your guardian angel smokes three packs a day and wears a leather jacket to court.

Still, the grimdark genre was, in my opinion, never intended to be a commentary on society’s failure, but instead, a lens to view how we remain human even when we sometimes have to make terrible choices out of necessity, or even desire.

Examples of Popular Grimdark Novels:

1. A Song of Ice and Fire – George R.R. Martin
   Starts with A Game of Thrones
   Arguably the definitive modern grimdark saga. Political intrigue, betrayal, incest, and war in a brutal, low-magic medieval world. Features sprawling POVs, each with their own flaws and motivations.

2. The First Law Trilogy – Joe Abercrombie
   Starts with The Blade Itself
   Gritty, character-driven, and incredibly self-aware. Features a torturer, a barbarian, and a broken noble as protagonists. Twists tropes with dry humor and raw violence—essential grimdark.

3. The Broken Empire Trilogy – Mark Lawrence
   Starts with Prince of Thorns
   Follows Jorg, a violent, sociopathic prince seeking power in a crumbling empire. Deeply psychological, poetic prose, and brutal imagery. Famous for its controversial protagonist and bleak tone.

4. The Black Company – Glen Cook
   Starts with The Black Company
   One of the earliest examples of grimdark. Told from the perspective of mercenaries serving ambiguous masters. Gritty realism in a fantasy setting with minimal exposition and a war-journal vibe.

5. Malazan Book of the Fallen – Steven Erikson
   Starts with Gardens of the Moon
   Epic-scale grimdark with massive cast and dense worldbuilding. Brutal, philosophical, and emotionally complex. Features gods, soldiers, necromancers, and broken empires in endless conflict.

Many of these stories go too far with their interpretation of grimdark and lean too much into gratuitous assault and dark psychopathology that is almost glorified. To these authors I would say, “you’re missing the point.” And also, “gross.”

In a world where you’re only punched in the face, a pinch on the arm is a godsend.

Everything has more personal meaning because there is a lack of inherent meaning or hope for change. It is in these places that human beings dig their spirits out of the mud and prevail, even if that word means something a little different in these worlds.

What I write

My take on the grimdark genre is unusual to be sure. Traditionally, hope is excluded from the grimdark formula, as on paper, that would defeat its purpose. If the purpose of grimdark is understood from a few popular novels, of course.

I choose to innovate the genre and strive to bring it to its fully realized form. I call it True Grimdark, or Intimate Grimdark because I believe the character and their growth should always be central to the narrative, as with any good fiction.

When I write, I do so with the understanding that the world is both grim and dark, but also with the hope that some will rise to resist its nature. Right now, the genre feels more like a depressed philosophy major’s angst than a character growth experience. And I’d like to change that.

I draw inspiration from the darker chapters of history, particularly accounts like Viktor Frankl’s experiences during the Holocaust, not to equate my fiction with real-world atrocities, but to explore the raw, human truths that emerge in the face of suffering.

Frankl survived not through heroism, but through a combination of inner resilience, deep love for his family, and the practical advantage of his status as a doctor.

He exploited the system around him. Not out of malice, but out of necessity. And that nuance is something I bring into my own characters.

In my grimdark stories, survival is rarely clean, but the natural reaction isn’t to sell out others. Not because the characters are above it but because it’s not what most human beings would do, given other choices. Characters like my Catherine aren’t driven by noble ideals, but by trauma, guilt, and the stubborn will to find meaning, even when they no longer believe they deserve it.

That doesn’t mean they’re monsters.

These stories don’t offer redemption easily—but they acknowledge that, even in a broken world, people still reach for it in small ways.

That’s the important kicker in what I believe makes True Grimdark or Intimate Grimdark. The focus on how the human spirit continues to evolve under the extreme lack of hope, not the absence of it.