Jenny Han’s P S I Still Love You, the second installment in the beloved To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before trilogy, arrives with the weighty expectation of following a phenomenon. Where the first novel charmed readers with its premise of accidentally mailed love letters, this sequel grapples with something far more complex: what happens when love stops being make-believe and starts demanding real choices?
The story picks up seamlessly from where we left Lara Jean and Peter Kavinsky, now navigating the treacherous waters of an actual relationship rather than their previous contractual arrangement. But Han, with her characteristic understanding of teenage hearts, refuses to let her protagonist settle into romantic bliss. Instead, she introduces a complication that feels both inevitable and devastating: John Ambrose McClaren, the recipient of the one letter that never came back.
Character Development That Cuts Deep
Lara Jean’s Evolution: From Dreamer to Decision-Maker
Lara Jean Covey remains one of young adult literature’s most authentically rendered protagonists, but in this second book, Han pushes her beyond the comfortable confines of her fantasy-prone nature. The girl who once lived safely in her imagination now faces the uncomfortable reality that love requires choices, and choices have consequences.
Han’s portrayal of Lara Jean’s internal struggle feels remarkably genuine. Her constant comparison of herself to Genevieve, Peter’s ex-girlfriend, reveals the insecurity that lurks beneath her romantic idealism. When she observes, “You’re easy to be with. You don’t make me get all crazy and worked up,” from Peter, Han captures the specific sting of being valued for one’s convenience rather than one’s passion. This moment crystallizes Lara Jean’s fear that she’s somehow less than Genevieve—less exciting, less desirable, less worthy of the kind of consuming love she reads about in romance novels.
Peter Kavinsky: The Complexity Behind the Charm
Peter’s characterization proves more nuanced than his golden-boy exterior might suggest. Han skillfully reveals the cracks in his seemingly perfect facade, particularly through his inability to fully separate himself from Genevieve. His protective instincts toward his ex-girlfriend create a triangle that feels authentic rather than contrived, rooted in genuine human psychology rather than plot mechanics.
The revelation that Peter knew about Genevieve’s role in the video scandal but chose to protect her over Lara Jean serves as a masterful character moment. It demonstrates both his loyalty and his weakness, his inability to fully commit to the present because he’s still tethered to the past.
John Ambrose McClaren: The Power of Perfect Timing
In John Ambrose McClaren, Han creates perhaps the most dangerous kind of romantic rival: the one who might actually be perfect. His return to Lara Jean’s life through his grandmother Stormy at Belleview retirement home feels serendipitous yet believable. Han uses John not just as a love interest but as a mirror, reflecting what Lara Jean might want versus what she actually needs.
John represents the idealized love of memory, the boy who exists in perfect amber in Lara Jean’s adolescent imagination. His gentlemanly nature, his thoughtful letters, his ability to make Lara Jean feel special without the complications that mark her relationship with Peter—all of this creates a compelling alternative. Yet Han is careful not to make him too perfect; his very perfection becomes a kind of flaw, a reminder that some loves are meant to remain in the realm of beautiful possibility.
Themes That Resonate Beyond Romance
The Reality Check of Real Relationships
Perhaps the novel’s greatest strength lies in its unflinching examination of what it means to transition from fantasy to reality in love. The early scenes between Lara Jean and Peter feel awkward, uncertain, fraught with the kind of miscommunication that marks real teenage relationships. Han doesn’t shy away from the discomfort of physical intimacy, the pressure of expectations, or the way past relationships can haunt present ones.
The conversation about sex feels particularly well-handled, avoiding both prudishness and inappropriate detail while acknowledging the very real pressures and considerations that mark teenage romance. Lara Jean’s anxiety about her inexperience compared to Peter’s history with Genevieve rings painfully true, as does Peter’s sensitivity to her feelings and his own struggle with patience.
Family Dynamics and Growing Up
The Song family continues to be one of the series’ greatest assets. Margot’s absence in Scotland serves as more than just plot convenience; it forces Lara Jean to step into new roles and responsibilities. Kitty’s ongoing matchmaking schemes provide comic relief while also demonstrating her growing awareness of adult emotions and relationships.
Dr. Covey’s tentative romance with their neighbor Ms. Rothschild adds another layer of complexity, showing Lara Jean that her father, too, is navigating the choppy waters of post-loss love. These parallel relationships create a rich tapestry that elevates the novel beyond simple teenage romance.
The Weight of Choices
The novel’s central tension revolves around choice—not just whom to love, but how to love, and what kind of person to become in the process. Lara Jean’s decision-making process feels authentic in its messiness, her tendency to overthink and second-guess herself balanced by moments of surprising clarity and strength.
Technical Craft and Narrative Voice
Han’s prose maintains the conversational, diary-like quality that made the first novel so engaging. Her ability to capture the specific cadences of teenage thought and speech never feels forced or patronizing. The pacing builds effectively toward the climactic confrontation where all of Lara Jean’s relationships come to a head, though some middle sections lag slightly under the weight of internal monologue.
The use of letters as a recurring motif proves particularly effective, serving both as plot device and metaphor for the gap between intention and expression, between the idealized self we present on paper and the messy reality of who we are in person.
Cultural Representation and Identity
While the novel’s exploration of Lara Jean’s Korean-American identity remains somewhat surface-level, Han weaves in meaningful moments that acknowledge the complexity of multicultural experience. The discussion of her grandmother’s teachings about jung—the unbreakable connection between people who have loved—provides cultural depth while serving the plot’s emotional needs.
The planned family trip to Korea represents both connection to heritage and the expanding horizons of young adulthood, though this subplot feels somewhat underdeveloped compared to the romantic elements.
Where the Novel Falls Short
Despite its many strengths, P S I Still Love You suffers from middle-book syndrome in several ways. The plot structure feels somewhat mechanical at times, with Lara Jean’s choices occasionally feeling predetermined by genre expectations rather than organic character development.
The resolution, while emotionally satisfying, comes perhaps too easily. Peter’s transformation from someone who consistently chooses Genevieve to someone ready to “go all in” with Lara Jean feels slightly rushed, lacking the gradual development that would make it completely convincing.
Additionally, some secondary characters—particularly Genevieve—veer toward caricature rather than the complex portrayal they deserve. While her actions provide necessary conflict, her motivations sometimes feel more plot-driven than psychologically authentic.
The Broader Series Context
Understanding this novel requires viewing it as the crucial middle act of Lara Jean’s coming-of-age story. To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before introduced us to a girl hiding from life; P S I Still Love You forces her to engage with it; and Always and Forever, Lara Jean will presumably show her fully embracing it.
In this context, the novel’s function becomes clearer: it’s about the painful but necessary process of choosing reality over fantasy, of accepting that love requires risk and uncertainty rather than the safety of imagined perfection.
Final Verdict: A Worthy, If Imperfect, Continuation
P S I Still Love You succeeds as both a standalone romantic drama and as a crucial piece of a larger narrative puzzle. While it may not quite match the fresh charm of its predecessor, it deepens our understanding of its characters and explores themes that resonate well beyond its target demographic.
Jenny Han has created something increasingly rare in young adult literature: a series that treats teenage emotions with genuine respect while acknowledging their complexity and contradictions. The novel’s exploration of choice, identity, and the courage required for authentic love provides substance beneath its romantic surface.
For readers who fell in love with Lara Jean in the first novel, this sequel provides the deeper character development and emotional stakes that make the journey worthwhile. For newcomers to the series, it offers a compelling, if occasionally frustrating, examination of love’s messy realities.
The novel earns its place as a worthy continuation of one of contemporary YA’s most beloved series, even if it occasionally stumbles under the weight of its own ambitions.
Similar Books to Explore
If P S I Still Love You captured your heart, consider these similar reads:
- Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell – Another beautifully crafted first love story with authentic teenage voices
- The Summer I Turned Pretty by Jenny Han – Han’s other beloved trilogy exploring love triangles and growing up
- Since You’ve Been Gone by Morgan Matson – A story about friendship, growth, and stepping outside comfort zones
- My Life Next Door by Huntley Fitzpatrick – Romance with strong family dynamics and coming-of-age themes
- What’s Not to Love by Emily Wibberley – Contemporary romance with multicultural elements and authentic teen relationships
P S I Still Love You stands as a testament to Jenny Han’s ability to find profound truth in the seemingly simple story of teenage love, proving that the best young adult fiction doesn’t talk down to its readers but rather elevates their experiences to the level of art.