Why The Summer I Turned Pretty Should Be Required Viewing for Romance Writers

Hi, I’m Amber Eve — author of smalltown romantic comedies, and my long-running blog, Forever Amber. If you’d like to know more about me, start here. If you’d like to hear more from me, meanwhile, hit the button below (or ‘smash’ it, as my 7-year-old would say…)

[Important note: While I know The Summer I Turned Pretty was a book series before it came to TV, and it’s probably a bit weird for me, an author, to be talking about the TV show rather than the books, that’s purely because I haven’t read the books, and have only seen the TV show. I’m going to assume the books are just as good, though, so please don’t read anything into me recommending the TV show instead other than the fact that I randomly switched it on one night, knowing absolutely nothing about it until then…]

“I’m too old to get invested in the antics of American teenagers,” I said at the time, completely forgetting how invested I’d managed to become in Gossip Girl, back in the day. “It’s just not relatable to me, you know?”

And then I switched it off, and watched The Girlfriend instead. Because apparently the antics of a psychotic girlfriend and her future mother-in-law was relatable to me in some way? IDK. (Highly recommend it, though…)

Anyway, I maintained my ill-thought-out “This show is not for me” stance up until a few weeks ago, when the final season aired, and, all of a sudden, the entire internet (By which I mean the very small section of the internet the algorithms show me, which is almost entirely made up of Book People and Bookish Things…) became completely consumed by it. As the finale approached, The Summer I Turned Pretty seemed to be the only thing anyone was talking about (Well, that and US politics, which is even less relatable to me, really…), and I started to wonder if I should reconsider.

“I feel like I should watch this show just to study it,” I told my husband, who just wanted me to pick something to watch already, and didn’t much care what it was. “Because all of the romance readers and writers I follow are all over it, so maybe there’s something to be learned from it?”

So we sat down and hit play, and folks? It turns out there is most definitely something to be learned from it if you’re a romance writer. In fact, I’d go so far as to say it should be required reading/viewing for anyone even thinking about writing in this genre. Here’s why … with the hopefully obvious disclaimer that the rest of this post contains spoilers, so please proceed only if you’ve either watched the show or don’t intend to…

So, let’s see. We have…

• Coming of age

• Forbidden love

• Brother’s best friend … although, in this case, it’s brother AND best friend? Is that also a trope? IDK…

• Love triangle. WITH BROTHERS.

• ONLY ONE BED, OMG

• Second-chance romance (I mean, kinda? In that they break up, but eventually get back together?)

With the exception of the brother’s best friend thing, which doesn’t hold a lot of interest for me (Possibly because I don’t have a brother? And my best friend’s brother thought I was weird?1), I’m 100% here for all of this.

I know a lot of people look down on romance tropes, but there’s a reason why certain tropes are popular; and, I mean, sure, you can completely ignore that fact if you want to, and attempt recreate the wheel by doing something totally unique and different, and maybe that will work out well for you, and you’ll be described as a ‘trailblazer’ or a ‘fresh new voice in romance’. You never know, right?

Orrrrr… you can just fully lean into the tropes you love, knowing that other people love them too, and that, when there’s a trope someone loves, they genuinely cannot get enough of it. (If you’ve written a book that involves fake-dating, or enemies-to-lovers, for instance, I’m probably going to want to read it…) That’s what TSITP does: it is unashamedly, unreservedly tropey, and that, I would argue, is a large part of its success — and the reason I refuse to apologise for using popular tropes in my own books. Well, if it’s not broke…

A few weeks ago, a reviewer (of The Book Feud) described me as being ‘great with the yearning’, and I was so flattered I actually screen-shotted their review so I could keep it close to my heart forever. Here it is:

Now, I don’t know if I’d describe myself as being ‘great’ with the yearning, but Jenny Han, who wrote TSITP, definitely is. This show is full of yearning. It’s basically the entire theme. And, as someone who is also filled to the brim with yearning, I could not love that more for it.

‘The Yearning’, as I like to think of it, is shown to best effect in the peach scene, which I’m pretty sure will be spoken about as The Peach Scene in romance circles in years to come. In The Peach Scene, Belly and Conrad, who were briefly together, but have now broken up, stop to buy peaches at a roadside stand. The light is hazy and romantic. The air has a warm glow that you can almost feel through the TV screen. A trickle of peach juice makes its way down Belly’s face, and Conrad takes a silent step towards her, and then tenderly wipes her lips with his shirt. WITH HIS SHIRT, people. And then everyone straight-up dies from THE YEARNING, in the same way Artax in The Neverending Story dies from The Sadness.

Is it a tiny bit cringey in the way it unashamedly leans into romance cliches? Yes. Do we care? Not really, no. Because it’s also hot, and that’s why we’re here, folks. (This is also the reason I will never not love the ‘only one bed’ trope, as unlikely and over-used as it is.)

In this scene, Jenny Han could have just NOT had Conrad wipe Belly’s face with his shirt. He could’ve just handed her a napkin, or … refused to even stop at the fruit stall at all, because it was getting late, and they could buy peaches at the supermarket if she wanted them that much. You know, like real men would? But Conrad Fisher is not Real Men. And yes, Jenny Han could’ve avoided all of these slightly cringe cliches, but then we would’ve hated her for it — and what would be the point of that, I ask you?

in TSITP, The Yearning is a real, palpable thing; it is present, not only in The Peach Scene, but also when Conrad cuts himself while surfing, and Belly tends to his wound. Silently. But yearningly.

It’s also present in literally every other scene these two are in together, and, of course, in us, the audience/reader during all of season three, while we wait breathlessly for them to get together; a moment which, when it comes, is so incredibly satisfying, because, like Belly and Conrad, we’ve waited so damn long for it.

The entire show is basically a masterclass in yearning. I did not take notes, but maybe I should have?

When I was in my early twenties, I watched Titanic so many times I started to worry that one day, when I was old and maybe a bit forgetful, I’d come to believe that I, too, had been on the doomed ship and had sex in a car with Leo somehow lived to tell the tale. Which I would, of course, do over and over, until everyone was all, OK, grandma, time to get you back to bed now.

In that same way, I ended TSITP feeling like I totally know what it’s like to spend my summers on Cape Cod, and my winters in Paris; not because I’ve watched it many times, like I did with Titanic (Look, I was on holiday from university, and there was nothing else to do, OK?), but because the setting in the show is almost another character in itself — and an important one, at that.

The scenes in Cousins (the fictional beach town which is somewhere in Massachusetts) are filled with a hazy nostalgia, even in the first few episodes, when you don’t yet know how the story is about to unfold. The ones in Paris, meanwhile, are completely unrealistic (We don’t even get that much snow in Edinburgh at Christmas time; and since when could you do the Louvre AND Versailles, and still be home in time for dinner?), but still beautiful, and kind of blatantly leaning in to everything we all wish Paris could be. It’s wish-fulfillment (Which I think all romance is, really) in the best way, and if I could create a fictional setting that felt like Cousins, I would be a much better writer than I actually am.

All of my favourite romances have settings like this; ones that feel so much like a real place that you’re surprised to find they don’t exist in real life (I mean, Paris does exist, obviously, but … not like this) and are sad to be pulled out of them when the book closes. OK, now I AM definitely taking notes…

One of my very specific pet hates in romantic fiction is the ubiquitous ‘Best Friend’: a character who is frequently completely devoid of a personality of her own, and who exists purely to give the main character someone to offload to, thus allowing the writer to get in some backstory without info-dumping.

TSITP doesn’t really do this. Not only does Taylor Jewel, Belly’s best friend, have a personality and character arc of her own, her relationship with Steven actually turned out to be one of my favourites on the show. I also liked that the ‘older’ characters (who are literally MY AGE, LOL) had more going on than just being ‘the mom’ or whatever. Justice for side characters, folks: they’re (imaginary) people too, you know!

I feel a bit icky even saying this because even though Christopher Briney, who plays him, is older in real life than he is in the show, he’s still only 27, which … let’s just say that my teenaged self would’ve been absolutely FERAL over Conrad Fisher. I’d have spent all of my lunch breaks writing his name in love hearts on my exercise books, and I’d have told everyone who’d listen about how, one day we’d totally be getting married.

From this, you will no doubt have correctly deduced that I was very much Team Conrad. I … don’t understand how anyone could NOT be? With that said, I’m an absolute sucker for a MMC who’s a bit moody and misunderstood; the Golden Retriever type just doesn’t do it for me — I like a bit of angst, and if it happens to look a bit like a young Leonardo Dicaprio, then so much the better.

Sorry ‘bout me.

Write male characters whose names people will want to scribble on their exercise books, is my point here.

Or, at least, try to.

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“What do you think of it so far?” my husband asked, a few episodes into Season One.

“I think it’s basically like a really long Taylor Swift music video,” I replied, meaning it as a compliment. And it’s true that Taylor does a lot of heavy lifting in this series; I’d say at least 80% of the soundtrack is made up of her music (I should probably have said this at the start, so those of you who hate her would’ve known to stop reading; sorry!), although there’s an excellent — and unexpected — use of Smashing Pumpkins during the prom scene, and, as a big fan of Baz Luhrman’s Romeo + Juliet, I had a lot of feelings during the scene that uses Des’ree’s I’m Kissing You as the soundtrack. A LOT of feelings.

Special mention: Taylor Swift’s ‘Dress’ for the moment Belly and Conrad finally get back together. This is one of my favourite Taylor deep-cuts, and I’m always surprised it doesn’t get more attention, so hats off to whoever made that call: loving your work, truly…

Of course, there’s not really a lot romance writers can take from a soundtrack (I know some authors like to create playlists which they put in the back of their books, but I have to admit, I’ve never actually listened to any of them while reading…) other than perhaps the fact that music evokes strong emotions, and so should your books. So, you know, do that. Follow me for more tips!

Now that I’ve distracted you with all of this talk of TV shows, I bring important, and yet incredibly annoying book-related news. There’s no easy way to say this, but…

… IchangedthenameofBikiniandit’snowcalledTheLoveCurseOMGIhateme

Look, I know. I KNOW. This is now the second time I’ve completely changed the name of a book this year alone, and, yes, it’s incredibly annoying and you can trust me when I tell you I really, really wish I wasn’t having to do this yet again.

With that said, it’s important to be able to admit when you get something wrong with a book, and, with BIKINI, we once again got the title completely wrong. It would be very fair to say that we completely suck at picking book titles at this point. (I say ‘we’ not to pass the buck, but because after the fiasco that was The Ghostwriter of Christmas Past / The Book Feud, which was my choice, I completely lost faith in my own ability to choose a title, so went with Terry’s choice on this one. So it’s a joint failure, basically.)

When we changed The Ghostwriter of Christmas Past to The Book Feud, however, it made a HUGE difference to that book’s sales. It literally went from being one of my lowest-selling books to the one that earns most of my income, and we’re really hoping the same will be true of Bikini / The Love Curse … which, need I remind you, combines fake dating AND enemies-to-lovers, i.e. ALL THE BEST TROPES. (There are enough beds, though, sadly. Well, you can’t have everything.)

I’m sorry.

Please don’t hate me.

And, with that out of the way, I’m going to continue plotting book number 10, whose title, thankfully, will be decided by someone other than me.

Thanks for reading,