To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before introduces readers to 16-year-old Lara Jean a few days before her life turns upside down. Days before she starts her junior year of high school, her beloved older sister Margot leaves for college in Scotland. But things get much worse on the first day of school, when Lara Jean discovers that someone mailed the five private love letters she wrote to her past crushes. As Lara Jean navigates the aftermath of having her letters sent out and figures out who she is without Margot around, she slowly starts to come of age and become more independent—something that’s essential, as Daddy is a single father who works long hours as an ob-gyn and often isn’t home. So now, Lara Jean has to take on adult tasks Margot used to perform, such as making baked goods for the PTA bake sale at Kitty’s school and grocery shopping. To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before shows that to some degree, becoming more responsible and independent is a normal and expected part of growing up. But for Lara Jean, Margot, and Kitty in particular, this independence and responsibility also reflects their family’s dysfunction.
Margot and Lara Jean were forced to grow up and become responsible at an early age. Lara Jean explains that their mother, Mommy, died suddenly six years ago after a household accident. Prior to her death, Lara Jean implies that she and Margot were able to be irresponsible children: Mommy cared for them, soothed them when they were upset, and mostly put up with their incessant bickering. But in the hour or so after Mommy’s death, Lara Jean and Margot cemented their new, more adult roles as Margot called 911 and Lara Jean kept three-year-old Kitty entertained in front of the TV. The loss of their mother, in other words, catapulted 12-year-old Margot and 10-year-old Lara Jean into adult, caregiving roles long before they became legal adults. This setup continues into the novel’s present. Up until the day Margot leaves for college in Scotland, she keeps a detailed family calendar, does the family’s grocery shopping, and shuttles Kitty to and from school and swim meets, all in addition to keeping up with her schoolwork and extracurricular activities. Lara Jean also takes on a number of household chores and cares for Kitty—all of which is necessary, as Daddy continues to work long hours for his job. So, while the girls’ independence and maturity are impressive, and perhaps unusual, the novel shows that these qualities stem from necessity.
This extra responsibility at home causes Lara Jean and Margot to feel intense loyalty to their blood family members—and sometimes keeps them from growing up or becoming independent in other ways. Lara Jean, for instance, bases many of her decisions on what Margot would think. Lara Jean looks up to Margot and wants to impress her whenever possible. And this desire to impress means that Lara Jean (and, for that matter, Margot) hasn’t participated in many normal teenage activities, such as going to parties, dating, or going on the school ski trip. Put another way, because Lara Jean feels such pressure to impress and support her family members, she opts out of other opportunities that might broaden her social circle. Both Lara Jean and Margot also use this familial loyalty to control (or attempt to control) each other’s behavior. When Margot breaks up with Josh, for instance, Lara Jean makes a desperate attempt to change Margot’s mind by noting that Daddy and Kitty are going to be very upset. And though Margot doesn’t purposefully try to control Lara Jean while she’s in Scotland, Lara Jean also knows that she can’t do what she wants—date Josh, or even admit her crush on him—without inviting Margot’s anger and disappointment.
Ultimately, though, the novel shows that as teenagers grow up, it’s important to develop their identities as their own people, and to start to shift their loyalties away from their families of origin. Margot does this early on, at the start of the novel, by going to college in Scotland. Moving several thousand miles away gives Margot the time and distance to figure out who she is and what she wants, without having to constantly answer to her family members or consult with them before making decisions. But this comes with its own pain. When Lara Jean and Margot have their final fight, Margot admits that she thinks of herself as being the sole person responsible for keeping the family functioning smoothly—which doesn’t turn out to be as true as Margot thought it was. Lara Jean and Kitty both become more mature and independent over the course of the novel and manage to get through their days just fine without Margot around, both because they’re each getting older and because without Margot at home to do things for them, they naturally have to become more independent. For the most part, the book presents this process as something that’s very normal but also exceedingly difficult emotionally. But when the novel ends on New Year’s Eve (which for years has been a stay-at-home holiday for the Coveys) with both Daddy and Margot at parties, it offers hope that Lara Jean, Margot, and Kitty have started to move away from their family of origin and will continue to mature and navigate their relationships to their family going forward.
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Family, Responsibility, and Growing Up Quotes in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before
When Margot decided to go to college in Scotland, it felt like a betrayal. Even though I knew it was coming, because of course she was going to go to college somewhere far away. And of course she was going to go to college in Scotland and study anthropology, because she is Margot, the girl with the maps and the travel books and the plans. Of course she would leave us one day.
I’m still mad at her, just a little. Just a teeny-tiny bit. Obviously I know it’s not her fault. But she’s going so far away, and we always said we’d be the Song girls forever.
We three Song girls have an unspoken pact: to make life as easy as possible for Daddy. But then again, maybe it’s not so unspoken, because how many times have I heard Margot say, “Shh, be quiet, Daddy’s taking a nap before he has to go back to the hospital,” or “Don’t bother Daddy with that; do it yourself”?
But now I have to do better, because I’m responsible for driving Kitty around. Though truthfully, Kitty is better with directions than I am; she knows how to get to loads of places. But I don’t want to have to hear her tell me how to get somewhere. I want to feel like the big sister; I want her to relax in the passenger seat, safe in the knowledge that Lara Jean will get her where she needs to go, just like I did with Margot.
I’m working on a Josh-and-Margot page. I don’t care what Margot says. They’re getting back together, I know it. And even if they aren’t, not right away, it’s not like Margot can just erase him from her history. He was such a big part of her senior year. And, like, her life. The only compromise I’m willing to make is I was saving my heart washi tape for this page, but I can just do a regular plaid tape instead. But then I put the plaid tape up against the pictures and the colors don’t look as good.
It’s strange to be the one in the front seat now. The view isn’t so different from the backseat. In fact, everything feels good and normal and the same, which is a comfort.
You kissed me for no reason. Even though I knew you liked Gen, and you knew you liked Gen, and Gen knew you liked Gen. But you still did it. Just because you could. I really want to know: Why would you do that to me? My first kiss was supposed to be something special. I’ve read about it, what it’s supposed to feel like—fireworks and lightning bolts and the sound of waves crashing in your ears. I didn’t have any of that. Thanks to you it was as unspecial as a kiss could be.
Not that anything exciting happened, for instance an impromptu game of spin the bottle or seven minutes in heaven—two possibilities for which us girls had prepared for with gum and lip gloss. All that happened was the boys played video games and us girls watched and played on our phones and whispered to each other. And then people’s moms and dads were picking them up, and it was so anticlimactic after all that planning and anticipation. It was disappointing for me, not because I liked anyone, but because I liked romance and drama and I was hoping something exciting would happen to someone.
I never knew it before, but I think maybe all this time I’ve been invisible. Just someone who was there. Now that people think I’m Peter Kavinsky’s girlfriend, they’re wondering about me. Like, why? What about me made Peter like me? What do I have? What makes me so special? I would be wondering too.
I am now a Mysterious Girl. Before I was just a Quiet Girl. But becoming Peter’s girlfriend has elevated me to Mysterious Girl.
“Yup, I think that’s judgey. I think you’re judgey in general. That’s a character flaw that you should work on. I also think you need to learn how to kick back and have fun.”
I’m listing all the ways I have fun—biking (which I hate), baking, reading; I consider saying knitting but I’m pretty sure he’ll only make fun of me […]
I volunteered to bake six dozen cupcakes for Kitty’s PTA bake sale. I did it because Margot’s done it for the past two years. Margot only ever did it because she didn’t want people to think Kitty’s family wasn’t involved enough in PTA. She did brownies both times, but I signed up for cupcakes because I thought they’d be a bigger hit.
“I guess I said no because I was scared.” […]
“Of Tommy?”
“No. I like Tommy. It’s not that. It’s scary when it’s real. When it’s not just thinking about a person, but, like, having a real live person in front of you, with, like, expectations. And wants.” I finally look at Peter, and I’m surprised by how hard he’s paying attention; his eyes are intent and focused on me like he’s actually interested in what I’m saying. “Even when I liked a boy so much, loved him even, I would always rather be with my sisters, because that’s where I belong.”
My heart races the whole way home. But we make it, no accidents and nobody honking their horn at me, and that’s the important thing. And the ice cream is fine, only a little melted on top. It will get easier each time, I think. I hope. I just have to keep trying.
I can’t stand the thought of Kitty being scornful of me. I’m her big sister. I have to be someone she looks up to, the way I look up to Margot. How can Kitty look up to me if I’m weak?
Grandma gives me an approving look. “Good girl,” she says, and I feel warm and cozy inside, like how I used to feel after a cup of the Night-Night tea Mommy used to make me when I couldn’t fall asleep at night. Daddy’s made it for me a few times since, but it never tasted the same, and I never had the heart to tell him.
Is this how people lose touch? I didn’t think that could happen with sisters. Maybe with other people, but never us. Before Margot left, I knew what she was thinking without having to ask; I knew everything about her. Not anymore. I don’t know what the view looks like outside her window, or if she still wakes up early every morning to have a real breakfast or if maybe now that she’s at college she likes to go out late and sleep in late. I don’t know if she prefers Scottish boys to American boys now, or if her roommate snores. All I know is she likes her classes and she’s been to visit London once. So basically I know nothing.
When my mom was alive, every Christmas we’d have what she called a recital party. She’d make tons of food and invite people over one night in December, and Margot and I would wear matching dresses and play Christmas carols on the piano all night. People would drift in and out of the piano room and sing along, and Margot and I would take turns playing. I hated real piano recitals because I was the worst in my age group and Margot was the best. It was humiliating to have to play some easy “Für Elise” while the other kids had already moved on to Liszt. I always hated recital party. I used to beg and beg not to have to play.
Margot groans. “Puppies are so much work. You have to let them out to pee like a million times a day. And they shed like crazy. You’ll never be able to wear black pants again. Also who’s going to walk it, and feed it, and take care of it?”
“Kitty will. And I’ll help.”
“Kitty is so not ready for the responsibility.” Her eyes say, And neither are you.
“Kitty’s matured a lot since you’ve been gone.” And so have I. “Did you know that Kitty packs her own lunch now? And she helps with the laundry? I don’t have to nag her to do her homework, either. She just does it on her own.”
“Really? Then I’m impressed.”
Why can’t she just say, Good job, Lara Jean? That’s it.
I’ve never seen her so happy or so patient. She spends all of Christmas day trying to teach him tricks and taking him outside to pee. Her eyes never stop shining. It makes me wish I was little again and everything could be solved with a Christmas Day puppy.
“You know what Mommy would always say to me?” She lifts her chin higher. “‘Take care of your sisters.’ So that’s what I did. I’ve always tried to put you and Kitty first. Do you have any idea how hard it was being so far away from you guys? How lonely it was? All I wanted to do was come back home, but I couldn’t, because I have to be strong. I have to be”—she struggles for a breath—“the good example. I can’t be weak. I have to show you guys how to be brave. Because…because Mommy isn’t here to do it.”
