Jenny Han, you absolute legend.
I have, and always will continue to commend Jenny Han for her contributions to young adult fiction, consistently portraying hopeful love for our generation.Â
Fifteen years ago, Han, a young adult romance author, wrote her third book on teenage love, “To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before.” Though I was still working through picture books at that time, I later discovered her writing as a teenager. It sparked my love for reading, partly because I could see myself in the book’s main character, Lara Jean, both culturally and in nature. Shy, with a limitless imagination, she represented Asian culture in young adulthood, an identity whose portrayal remains uncommon in this genre. This book focused on a character who, with and without romantic love, blossomed in the confidence and realization of her own worthiness, a reality I, too, struggle with believing in.
The story begins with the protagonist’s sneaky, but well-intentioned, younger sister mailing love letters Lara Jean wrote, though never sent, to each of her former crushes. The secretly deep and perceptive Peter Kavinsky, who later becomes Lara Jean’s love interest, is one of the recipients of the letters. Upon receiving Lara Jean’s intensely written love confession, he seeks her out to politely decline what he assumes to be her romantic proposal, but the message has shaken his focus. The two enter into a fake relationship to catch the attention of their respective crushes, inevitably falling in love with each other instead, a frequently seen trope and one I have come to love within the modern romance genre. Fake-dating is certainly a questionable choice with often very vague intentions, but I find comfort in the reliable predictability of this story structure.Â
Throughout the course of the narrative, Peter provides Lara Jean the space to open up about her grief and encourages her in her fear of driving. (I wish I had that.) Viewers watch her come out of her shell and grow comfortable with her identity. This unfortunately occurs in tandem with some poor communication and misunderstandings, but I defend the story as more or less realistic.
Analyzing the plot of this book, I certainly consider the improbability of Peter’s rather tame response after receiving such a passionate letter from someone he did not associate with often. However, I argue that this is one of the many gifts of fiction: escapism.
It is important to note that I watched the “To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before” Netflix film adaptation before reading the book, which I admit is a shame to the bookworm name. Nonetheless, this plot put a sparkle in my heart for the type of love that could happen for me. If anything, reading the additional nuances included in the book but not featured in the film enhanced my appreciation for this story. I solemnly believe Han started a meaningful movement for young and emerging adults to envision the possibility of simply “what might be” and how deserving they are of love, whether that be from someone expressing love outwardly with grand gestures or the type that is intimate and private but still has so much meaning. There are Peters in the world, who we may not find right away, but will unabashedly see us, remember our favorite sweet treat, support us in pursuing what we love and love our people like their own.
Through her writing, Jenny Han has cultivated something special. I hope she continues to write of young love in the way that resonates with her readers and cultivates a little book fandom in the process.Â
Though the meaning that comes from book fandoms may seem small, it is an outlet for people to feel like they belong. Contributions to fiction from authors like Jenny Han allow countless readers to feel that much more seen, and is that not ultimately what we all deserve and wish for?