It’s about the smell of salt air and that specific, agonizing ache of being fifteen and wanting to be seen. If you grew up reading YA in the late 2000s, Jenny Han’s The Summer I Turned Pretty wasn't just a book on a shelf. It was a vibe before we called things vibes. Honestly, looking back at the trilogy now—especially with the massive Prime Video adaptation—it’s wild to see how much of the original DNA still holds up. Belly Conklin isn't a perfect protagonist. She’s messy. She’s impulsive. She’s often incredibly selfish. But that’s exactly why the story works.
People always argue about the "love triangle" aspect. Team Conrad versus Team Jeremiah. It’s the classic debate. But the book is actually a grief story disguised as a romance.
The Summer I Turned Pretty and the magic of Cousins Beach
Cousins Beach doesn’t exist. Not on a real map, anyway. Jenny Han basically stitched it together from places like Cape Cod, the Hamptons, and the Outer Banks. It’s a liminal space. For Isabel "Belly" Conklin, life only happens between June and August. The rest of the year is just waiting.
We’ve all had that version of a place.
The first book introduces us to the dynamic that defines the whole series: the Conklins and the Fishers. Susannah Fisher and Laurel Conklin are best friends, and their kids have grown up together in this sprawling beach house. But this specific summer is different. Belly "turned pretty." It’s a blunt, almost shallow title, right? But Han isn't just talking about a glow-up. She’s talking about the shift in power that happens when the world starts looking at a young woman differently. It’s uncomfortable. It’s exciting. It’s a lot to carry when you’re still used to being the tag-along kid.
The Conrad Problem
Conrad Fisher is the "dark and moody" archetype, but if you read the book closely, he’s actually just a kid drowning in a secret. He knows his mother, Susannah, is dying of cancer long before anyone else does. That context changes everything. In The Summer I Turned Pretty, Conrad’s distance isn't just "cool guy" behavior; it’s a trauma response. He’s pushing Belly away because he can’t handle the weight of his own world.
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Jeremiah, on the other hand, is the golden boy. He’s easy. He’s the summer sun.
The tension between the two brothers isn't just about who gets the girl. It’s about how they handle the impending loss of their mother. Susannah is the sun that all these planets orbit around. When she starts to fade, the orbits decay. You see it in the way the house feels different—the snacks aren't the same, the rituals feel forced. Han is a master at using small, domestic details to show massive emotional shifts.
Why the book feels different from the show
If you’ve only seen the show, the book might surprise you. It’s quieter. It’s told entirely from Belly’s perspective, which means we are stuck inside her head. And Belly’s head can be a frustrating place. She’s obsessed with the past. The narrative jumps back and forth between "this summer" and memories of "Summers past."
- The time they went to the boardwalk.
- The first time she realized she loved Conrad.
- The way Jeremiah always took care of her when she was sick.
The book doesn't have the debutante ball. That was a show invention to add "prestige" and visual flair. In the pages of The Summer I Turned Pretty, the drama is more internal. It’s about the quiet realization that your childhood heroes—like your mom or the older boy you idolized—are just flawed people.
The realism of Susannah’s storyline
Cancer in YA fiction can often feel like a plot device. Here, it feels like an ending. Susannah Fisher represents the "magic" of childhood. She’s the one who makes the beach house feel like a sanctuary. When she decides to stop treatment, it’s a devastating moment that forces the kids to grow up instantly.
Critics have often pointed out that the parents in these books are just as important as the teens. Laurel, Belly’s mom, is rigid and pragmatic. She’s the foil to Susannah’s whimsy. Their friendship is arguably the most stable relationship in the entire trilogy. It’s the "soulmate" connection that Belly is constantly trying to replicate with the Fisher boys.
It’s not just about romance
Seriously.
If you go into this thinking it’s just about who Belly chooses, you’re missing the point. It’s about the end of an era. It’s about how we try to freeze time when we know things are changing. Belly wants things to stay the same, but she’s the one who changed the most. She "turned pretty," and in doing so, she broke the childhood equilibrium.
The prose is simple. Some might call it basic. But there’s a lyrical quality to how Han describes the ocean, the coldness of a swimming pool at night, and the specific taste of a peach at the height of July. It’s sensory. It’s visceral.
Moving past the first book
The sequels, It’s Not Summer Without You and We’ll Always Have Summer, take the foundation of the first book and shatter it. The second book is almost entirely about the aftermath of Susannah’s death. It’s heavy. It’s about the house being sold and the desperate attempt to save it.
The third book is where things get controversial. The "wedding plot." Many fans felt Jeremiah’s character took a sharp turn to make Conrad look better. Whether you agree or not, it highlights a real truth: the person you love at sixteen is rarely the person you should be with at twenty-four.
Actionable insights for readers and writers
If you’re revisiting the series or picking it up for the first time because of the hype, keep a few things in mind to get the most out of the experience.
Track the motifs. Notice how water is used. Belly is most herself when she’s swimming. It’s her element. When she’s on land, she’s clumsy and uncertain. The ocean represents the vast, uncontrollable emotions of growing up.
Look at the structure. Jenny Han uses short chapters. This keeps the pacing fast but also mimics the way memory works—short, vivid bursts of "do you remember when?" It’s a great study for anyone interested in writing "voice-driven" fiction.
Consider the cultural context. Belly is biracial (in the show) and the books touch on the feeling of being "othered" in these wealthy, predominantly white beach communities, though the show leans into this much more heavily than the original 2009 text.
Don't rush the ending. The way the trilogy concludes is divisive, but it’s worth thinking about the "growth" rather than just the "winner."
Re-read with an eye for Laurel. As an adult, Laurel is often the most relatable character. She’s watching her best friend die while trying to keep her daughter from making the same mistakes she did. It’s a completely different book when you read it from the "mom" perspective.
The staying power of The Summer I Turned Pretty lies in its nostalgia. Even if you didn't grow up in a beach house with two cute boys, you know what it feels like to have one last summer before everything changes. You know the feeling of a first crush that feels like it might actually kill you. That’s the magic Jenny Han captured. It’s not just a book; it’s a core memory for an entire generation of readers.
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To really dive into the world, start by reading the original trilogy back-to-back. Then, watch the series to see how the creators updated the story for 2026 sensibilities—like expanding the roles of the side characters and adding the Taylor/Steven subplot which barely existed in the first book. Pay attention to the soundtrack, too; it’s designed to mirror the emotional beats of the prose. Finally, look into the "Cousins Beach" aesthetic on social media if you want to see how the book's visual style has influenced modern fashion and interior design.