It's Not Summer Without You

What's inside (8 sections)

1. Belly after last summer
2. Susannah and funeral grief
3. Conrad silent and Jeremiah calling
4. Winter at Cousins Beach
5. Brothers and the kiss
6. Laurel and Cleveland and letters
7. Key takeaways
8. FAQ

Jenny Han published It's Not Summer Without You in 2010 with Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, and it runs 288 pages with ISBN 9781416995555 as book 2 in The Summer I Turned Pretty series. The first book closed on a bright Cousins Beach summer where Isabel Belly Conklin finally felt seen by Conrad Fisher after years of crushing, spent days between Conrad and his younger brother Jeremiah, and learned that Susannah Fisher was sick again with cancer. This second book opens after that glow has faded. Summer is over. School has started. Susannah has died. No one is dating in a clean way. No one is okay in a clean way. If the first book was about wanting to be noticed, this one is about what happens when the person who gave the warmest notice is gone.

Belly narrates most chapters in first person, with some chapters from Conrad, and that split shows how far apart they have grown. Belly is sixteen in junior year, trying to act normal at school while feeling cut off from Cousins. She replays last summer on loop. Conrad pulling close and then pulling back. Jeremiah making her laugh when the house felt heavy. Susannah on the porch in a cover up, thin but smiling, telling the kids to eat fruit and stay in the water a little longer. Those memories do not feel sweet yet. They feel sore. Grief here is fresh and physical. It sits in the chest and makes ordinary rooms feel wrong.

What moves her again is a phone call. Conrad has gone quiet at college. He misses classes, avoids his father Adam, and stops answering his brother. Jeremiah, worried and angry, calls Belly because she might reach Conrad when family cannot, and because she loves the Cousins house as much as the Fisher boys do. Adam plans to sell the beach house. For Belly that house holds every summer since childhood. For the boys it holds their mother. Jeremiah plans a rescue of sorts. Drive to Cousins. Find Conrad. Stop the sale. Belly packs a bag, leaves without full permission from her mother Laurel, and rides with Jeremiah to the beach in winter.

Belly after last summer

Belly starts stuck between girlhood and something older. In book one she liked being seen as pretty. In book two she learns that being looked at does not fix being unsure. At school she eats lunch with friends, studies, answers texts, and pretends she is fine. Inside she waits for Conrad to call or write with an answer for last summer. He had said things that felt large, then went cold again. That hot and cold rhythm left her raw. She tells herself she is over him, then checks her phone. She tells herself junior year will be hers, then cries at a song Susannah liked.

Her school friends cannot fully reach her because they did not know Susannah. Susannah was not just a family friend. She was a second mother who oiled Belly's hair, praised her without making it about looks, and let her linger in the kitchen while adults talked late. Belly learned how to swim far and laugh loud in that house. Losing Susannah feels like losing a self that only lived at Cousins. That is why Belly clings to Conrad and Jeremiah. They prove those summers were real.

Laurel sees the stuck place and worries. Laurel is a writer and professor, sharp and protective, grieving her best friend while parenting a teen who wants more freedom than sense allows. Laurel and Belly fight the way sad mothers and daughters do. Laurel wants focus on school and grief at home. Belly wants to be where Susannah lived. Neither is wrong. Steven, Belly's older brother, adds teasing and blunt care. He played games with the boys, ate Susannah's food, and carries quiet grief of his own.

The infinity necklace Conrad gave Belly last summer still hangs around her neck. In book one it marked being chosen. In book two it marks a question. Did he mean what it seemed to mean. Can a gift survive death and silence. Belly touches it, removes it, puts it back on. When Jeremiah notices, he does not ask her to take it off. He waits. That patience matters later.

Susannah and funeral grief

Susannah Fisher dies of cancer between the books, and Han does not soften the loss. Susannah kept Cousins open. She softened Adam's sharp edges. She kept Laurel laughing through hard years. She fed everyone, recalled birthdays, played music while cooking, and swam even when tired. Her illness had been hidden, then known, then hoped through, then final. By this book the funeral has passed, yet the absence keeps arriving each day.

Han writes grief in small flashes rather than one long service. Belly recalls the church full of dark clothes, flowers too sweet, Adam standing stiff while barely standing, Conrad staring at the floor with jaw tight, Jeremiah crying openly and hugging all who came, Laurel holding Belly's hand too hard while both cried without fixing makeup. These images return when triggered by smell or song or cold air.

Each person grieves apart, which lifts the novel. Laurel hides in work and rules, which looks like control but comes from fear of more loss. Conrad punishes himself by failing at school and pushing people off. Jeremiah stays in motion because stillness lets sadness catch him. Belly longs for one more porch talk with clear orders on how to be.

No speech fixes it. A teacher says time helps and Belly wants to scream. A friend says Susannah is in a better place and Belly nods while hating the line. What helps in small doses is doing what Susannah liked. Cook her recipes. Swim though the water is cold. Keep the house loud. Han shows mourning as chores. Wash the porch. Fold blankets. Light the kitchen in the morning. Grief lives in houses, and houses can hold it if people stay.

Conrad silent and Jeremiah calling

Conrad starts college with promise and then falls apart. He skips classes, avoids calls, drinks too much, and drifts from friends. His chapters show shame and weight. He lost his mother. He feels he let Susannah down by not being kinder in her last months, and let Belly down by not being steady. Rather than ask for help, he cuts ties. Silence feeds shame. That silence scares Jeremiah more than a fight would.

Jeremiah has always been the open brother. Funny, warm, quick to hug, quick to cry, quick to forgive. Where Conrad broods, Jeremiah talks. Where Conrad leaves, Jeremiah stays. In this book he carries much. He checks on his father, on Conrad, on Belly, and tries to keep grades up while family frays. When he learns Adam will sell the Cousins house, it feels like a second death. The house is where his mother laughed loudest. Selling feels like consent to forget. He cannot sway his father with logic, so he aims for presence. Get all to the house. Make them recall. Make them change their minds.

His call to Belly is both needy and sincere. He needs help finding Conrad because Conrad still answers Belly when he ignores family. He also wants Belly near because his fondness has grown past friendship. Han keeps Jeremiah fair. He does not trash Conrad to win. He says Conrad is lost and needs us. He says the house needs us. He says he needs her. Belly hears all three and says yes. She hides the plan from Laurel, leaves school worries behind, and gets in the car. It is rash and very teen, and Han lets it feel both wrong and right. Wrong to lie to a grieving mother. Right to show up for grieving boys.

The drive gives lift. Jeremiah and Belly play music loud, spill snacks, and trade old jokes. They bicker over directions. They stop for gas and candy. They speak of Susannah, then fall quiet. They speak of school, then fall quiet again. Miles let them feel young for an hour before weight returns. Belly notes his hands on the wheel, his off key singing to make her smile, his laugh lines. She feels guilt for noting this while thinking of Conrad, and feels alive after months of numb. That mix starts her slow turn from one brother to the other.

Winter at Cousins Beach

Cousins Beach in winter is the smartest choice in this sequel. In book one summer meant sun, crowds, outdoor showers, wet towels, corn, debutante dresses, and late swims. In book two the town is empty and cold. Shops are shut. The boardwalk is bare. Sky greys early. The sea looks steel and rough. The Fisher house is cold at entry, smelling of dust and shut rooms. Heat clanks on. Blankets come out. Windows open for air and they shiver. Memory sounds louder when a place is quiet.

Belly walks rooms and names what lived there. Here Susannah braided hair. Here Conrad read with feet up. Here Jeremiah burned toast and ate it anyway. Here Laurel and Susannah drank wine till midnight while kids faked sleep on the couch to keep listening. Now steps echo. The fridge is bare. Porch chairs are stacked. The beach is wide and pale with no umbrellas or whistles. Belly and Jeremiah walk in jackets, breath showing, picking chipped shells. It stays lovely, but in a stripped way that fits loss.

Winter forces close chores. They buy food, cook pasta, wash dishes side by side, and fight a damp fireplace until it catches. These tasks slow the romance and make it real. Belly sees Jeremiah make coffee, haul wood, fix a stuck window, and take harsh words from his father yet keep trying.

Memories rise without leave. Belly recalls sparklers and Conrad's hand near hers, Susannah calling her lovely, and Jeremiah teaching her to body surf. Past and present share chairs. Summer taught them how to love. Winter asks if that love holds without sun.

Conrad is at the house, thinner and tired in old clothes. He does not wish rescue and answers with shrugs. Yet he stays rather than leaving, which tells Belly he wants them near though he cannot say it.

Brothers and the kiss

The strain is not only who Belly will kiss. It is how two brothers mourn one mother in opposite ways and pull one girl between them. Conrad loves Jeremiah yet hates being needed. Jeremiah loves Conrad yet hates being shut out. Both love Belly and show it apart. Conrad withholds to shield. Jeremiah stays close to soothe. Belly, sixteen and grieving, reads withholding as depth and closeness as safety, and swings hard.

Fights start small. Dishes left. Calls not made. Words about the sale. Conrad says Jeremiah turns Cousins into a campaign. Jeremiah says Conrad quit on school and kin. Voices climb in the kitchen where Susannah once kept peace with snacks and jokes. With no mediator, Belly tries, cries, then flares. She tells Conrad he cannot vanish and expect waiting. She tells Jeremiah he cannot fix meaning for all. For once she sounds equal, not a tagalong kid sister.

The Belly and Jeremiah kiss grows from this air. All book he has looked longer, stood nearer, touched her back in passing, brushed windblown hair from her cheek. Belly marked it, felt guilt, marked it again. When they kiss it feels warm after cold months. Jeremiah is present and checks without speech that she is sure. He makes no dig at Conrad. Belly answers because she wants comfort tied to want, because Jeremiah sees her as now, not as last summer's girl. After comes joy plus panic. Joy since being wanted feels like proof of life after death. Panic since Conrad sleeps near and since she fears she broke faith with a tale where Conrad was the one.

Conrad pulls back further, quiet and cutting. He does not brawl. He skips meals with them, walks the beach solo, and dodges talk of their mother. Belly wishes he would fight for her and hates the wish while kissing his brother. The muddle fits teen loss. No clean picks. Test, retreat, test again.

Fair criticism stays. Love triangle repetition drags. Book one already looped Belly between brothers for hundreds of pages. Book two loops again with higher stakes but like moves. Conrad distant, then soft, then distant. Jeremiah steady, then jealous, then steady. Belly watches, waits, cries, picks in the flash, doubts after. Readers who hoped Belly would grow past boys as mirrors may tire. At sixteen she still gauges worth by which Fisher boy gazes, and Han keeps her there too long in the middle. Phone checks. Necklace touches. Beach walks musing on Conrad while Jeremiah waits. The cycle wears.

Passive Belly is the twin complaint. Others steer. Jeremiah picks the drive. Conrad picks when to speak. Adam holds the house fate. Belly reacts, trails, hopes. Han grants spine when Belly calls out the boys, but those sparks dim into waiting again. The tight circle suits grief yet trims growth.

Still the triangle lands better than in many young adult middles because grief lends mass. This is not only who charms. It is who stays in a cold house and scrubs pans. Han keeps touch age true. No explicit scenes. Hands, breath, shared jackets. That hold fits sixteen and keeps stress on choice.

Laurel and Cleveland and letters

Laurel holds the adult side and her thread with Cleveland deserves note. Cleveland Castillo, a writer she meets through book events, courts her with humor. He is kind to Belly and Steven without playing dad, and waits while Laurel mourns. When Laurel lets him in a bit, it shows Belly a sound model. Not rescue. Company.

Laurel's drive to Cousins brings due parental force. She scolds lying and risk, then sees the cold house and melts to tears. She knew Susannah longest. Belly grasps her mother more after that.

Conrad's letter late in the story recasts his quiet without pardoning it. He writes Belly plainly of shame, failed classes, missing his mother, and not knowing how to seek aid. He admits he pushed her off because she counted and he felt base while failing. He does not bid her to wait. He thanks her for coming. He sets down what he cannot voice. Letters weigh much in Han's books since teens ink truths they cannot speak. Belly reads twice. Once fast for facts. Once slow for tone. The note does not win her fully back, yet it softens her tale that he never cared. He cared badly. That split counts at sixteen.

The infinity necklace closes as choice, not vow. Belly has worn it through doubt, liked its mass, hated its mass. Now, after kissing Jeremiah and reading Conrad, she must fix what it means. Keep wearing Conrad's gift while trying with Jeremiah. Give it back. Store it with Susannah's goods. Han avoids trick use. Belly holds it, recalls Susannah terming her lovely, recalls Conrad's hands at the clasp last summer, recalls Jeremiah's gaze on it free of mean jeers. Her pick reads as a first grown act. Not a vow to a boy for all time. A pick of which tale to bear ahead.

By the end the sale stalls rather than settles neat, the boys speak though not healed, Laurel sets kind firm bounds, and Belly returns to school with grief less numb yet still near. She has kissed Jeremiah and solved nil. She has heard Conrad and excused nil. She has stood in winter surf and felt alive. The close is not bridal glad. It is February hope. Light holds a minute more. That suffices.

Read this 2010 Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers sequel if you liked book one and can sit with ache. It suits fans of beach books out of season, where place keeps recall. It suits teens near fifteen and up facing first loss, first love tangle, or a childhood home at risk. If looped triangles irk you, know the middle sags and Belly waits overmuch. If you prize grief told through chores, food, cold rooms, and late notes, stay. Han pens mothers and sons and summer girls with clear fondness. Book 2 does not mend Belly. It winters her. That winter makes the last summer ahead feel due.

FAQ

When was It's Not Summer Without You published?

Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers published it in 2010. The hardcover runs 288 pages with ISBN 9781416995555 and continues the story started in The Summer I Turned Pretty from 2009.

Is this book part of a series?

Yes, it is book 2 in The Summer I Turned Pretty trilogy by Jenny Han, set between The Summer I Turned Pretty and We'll Always Have Summer.

What age is this book appropriate for?

Readers around thirteen and up fit best. There is kissing, party drinking, mild language, grief after cancer, and talk of sex, but no explicit scenes.