THE SUMMER I RUINED A FAMILY – A MODERN ‘SABRINA’

This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Leeds chapter and does not reflect the views of Her Campus.

Although many of us would love to have the luxury of two eligible, head-over-heels bachelors to choose between, this is not a dream often realised. For the unfortunately nicknamed Belly, this is reality. The hit Prime Video series The Summer I Turned Pretty, predominantly accompanied by the music of Taylor Swift, is based on the bestselling book series by romance novelist Jenny Han. Anticipating each new episode every Wednesday this summer is the closest I will ever get to understanding the thrill of waiting to find out how your players have performed in the fantasy league that week.

Across the span of three seasons, the series tells the story of teenager Belly Conklin, torn between her childhood best friends with trust funds: Conrad and Jeremiah Fisher. Conrad is presented as the morally grey, unreliable character (who Belly has had a crush on since childhood), and Jeremiah as the ebullient and somewhat diffident ‘safe’ choice. The vast majority of viewers were rooting for Conrad, which is obvious when one opens TikTok to the numerous Conrad fan edits. In the words of Jacques Lacan, we desire what we lack, and Conrad’s avoidant nature is romanticised through Belly’s rose-tinted glasses, always being the one thing she can’t have. It becomes evident that Conrad will be the final choice, especially as he matures emotionally and practically throughout the series by going to therapy, living alone and quitting marijuana. This is a complete contrast to Jeremiah’s immature outbursts and frat-boy lifestyle. Furthermore, the eventual decision comes as no surprise because Conrad is the person Belly’s always loved, having himself loved her even before she ‘turned pretty’.

This outcome feels especially inevitable as it becomes increasingly obvious how heavily The Summer I Turned Pretty draws from the 1954 Audrey Hepburn film, Sabrina. In season one, the characters watch Sabrina at a drive-in cinema, with Belly proclaiming it her favourite film, and I’d argue that Belly uses the film’s narrative as a sort of guidebook for her own romantic decisions far too much. Sabrina, too, depicts a love triangle involving two brothers, where the Conrad-redolent avoidant character ends up being the final choice. The promotional shot for the show’s third season is a direct imitation of Sabrina’s cover, which shows Sabrina being kissed by her initial romantic pairing – David – whilst looking at Linus (whom Sabrina chooses by the end). In Sabrina, Linus is a successful and responsible Yale graduate, mirroring Conrad, who graduates from Stanford and is training to be a doctor. In contrast, his younger brother David jumps from school to school and wife to wife, much like Jeremiah’s infidelity and failure to graduate (though the latter is down to an admin error). In Sabrina, the homonymous lead eventually splits from David and takes a transformative trip to Paris before eventually deciding to be with Linus. As viewers of the show will recognise, this is almost an identical character arc as Belly – excluding the impromptu ‘bob’ phase – which concludes with her and Conrad reuniting romantically.

Interestingly, viewers of both The Summer I Turned Pretty and Sabrina have analysed that perhaps the respective leads’ infatuation may actually lie with the families’ lifestyles rather than the suitors themselves. Sabrina famously states that “life was pleasant among the Larrabees, for this was as close to heaven as one could get on Long Island”. Similarly, Belly often refers to the Fishers’ beach house on Cousins’ beach being like a ‘fairytale’, saying that her “whole life was measured in summers” she spent there. These summer romances take precedence over everything else in these characters’ lives, including the death of Conrad and Jeremiah’s mother. The battle over Belly forms a rift between the Fisher brothers, leading that summer to become the destruction of the family. Ultimately, this frames Jeremiah extremely immaturely, as he all-too-happily swoops into a relationship with his grieving brother’s ex-girlfriend, and claims years later that his own breakup with Belly was a more painful experience than losing his mother. 

Despite the stress it causes the characters, this love triangle was devoured by audiences worldwide, ranking 25 million viewers globally in its first week of availability. The dynamic between Belly and the Fisher brothers proved to be a profitable one, engaging viewers from beginning to end and leading to a parasocial investment in the narrative. For centuries, love triangles have obsessed audiences, dating back to the Ancient world’s Ariadne, Theseus and Dionysus and Shakespearean England’s Cleopatra, Mark Antony and Julius Caesar. Love triangles would go on to be one of the most common tropes of 2000s television, featuring in some of the most popular shows of the era such as Gossip Girl, The Vampire Diaries, One Tree Hill and Gilmore Girls. The question remains: why are people so drawn to an interpersonal dynamic that causes so much drama and pain? According to my psychological research, this fixation is due to the incessant human desire to be wanted combined with the thrill of the chase. The tension of choice brings drama, yes, but there is a deep allure to this conflict. As Schwartz’s Paradox of Choice states, too many options cause stress, yet a small and limited number create a compelling tension. My theory, though, is that the love triangle trope offers a highly romanticised microcosm of the cyclical nature of choice throughout life. Decision-making is an intrinsic element of the human experience, and rather than making the dull choice between jobs or cities, or making the sensible financial decision to stay in and watch a film rather than have a night out at Disco Spoons, I’m sure it’s much more appealing to fantasise about the choice between two people madly in love with us. 

Editor: Ella Morgan