47 pages • 1 hour read
Laura NowlinIf Only I Had Told Her
Fiction | Novel | YA | Published in 2024A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Themes
The Pain of Unrequited and Requited Love
If Only I Had Told Her is an unusual love story in that the characters who are in love admit their feelings early in the novel. Both Finn and Autumn initially believe that their feelings are unreciprocated, but their confessions in Chapters 9 and 10 seem to resolve this conflict. However, Finn’s death shortly afterward introduces a new dimension of pain to Autumn’s feelings, suggesting that even requited love can hurt.
Finn’s love for Autumn is the catalyst for the tragedy of Part 1. Finn has always been in love with Autumn, and he has always compared every girl that he meets to her. Though Finn still finds Autumn’s companionship pleasurable, he also suffers considerably due to it. After reading Autumn’s novel, for example, he concludes that Autumn knows about his love and used it to write a book, which makes him resentful and distrustful: “But she knew the truth. She observed my love and served it up to me, fictionally requited” (75). Autumn has also been struggling with her feelings, to the extent that she weaves them into her novel as an outlet. When Autumn and Finn finally bare their hearts to one another and find the other equally in love, it is therefore wonderful for them. Finn states, “It’s strange to feel as if I don’t have a body, but that’s what it’s like. I’m simply a soul existing ecstatically in the universe. Time and space are meaningless, temporary, inconsequential to me” (82). Finn has reached bliss, but the resolution to finally understanding the truth is not so easy. Finn still has a girlfriend, and he feels as though he needs to break up with Sylvie so that Autumn and he can be together. This ultimately sends him to his untimely death.
The challenges and heartache that can arise even when love is reciprocal become even clearer in Part 3, which deals with the impact of Finn’s death on Autumn. Besides exploring her depression in the wake of Finn’s loss, the section shows how her pregnancy—a tangible reminder of her and Finn’s love—complicates the grieving process. Although Autumn ultimately comes to cherish her pregnancy, it in some sense symbolizes the pain of requited but lost love. The baby’s diagnosis underscores this symbolism; Autumn and Finn’s daughter has a hole in her heart, the organ conventionally associated with love.
The Transformative Power of Understanding and Forgiveness
In the wake of Finn’s unexpected death, misunderstandings and the desire to assign blame lead to isolating assumptions. This is particularly true of Jack, who struggles to understand how his best friend could have been killed in a car accident and blames everyone involved, which isolates him and traps him in his grief. Jack is only able to accept and make peace with his friend’s death when he approaches others with compassion and understanding.
Jack’s anger over Finn’s death is primarily focused on Autumn, as evidenced by his response to finding candy and condoms—symbols of Finn and Autumn’s relationship—in Finn’s car: “Suddenly, I hate that girl so much. Autumn was the reason Finn was breaking up with Sylvie and driving in the rain. She was the reason he was distracted that night” (214). While this anger is not logical, it is indicative of Jack’s attempt to make sense of this senseless tragedy. Because he cannot understand how someone as careful as Finn could die in a car accident, he blames those around Finn. This blame both feeds off of and exacerbates a broader tendency toward isolation, as Jack effectively “blames” others for not being Finn; he “start[s] to see how superficial [his] other relationships have been” (224), but he does not consider the possibility that they could be meaningful.
Jack’s relationship with his roommate, Brett, exemplifies this pattern but also proves vital to healing it. Jack initially misjudges Brett as arrogant and superficial, but when he learns about the death of Brett’s twin, it becomes clear that the two have much in common. Brett explains, “[W]henever I hear you shift in your sleep or get up in the mornings, for a second, I think you’re him. So I’ve been icing you out. You’re this big reminder that he’s not here with me” (260). Brett’s feelings toward Jack resemble Jack’s resentment of Brett (and everyone else who isn’t Finn). This moment of emotional vulnerability helps Jack understand that while he has felt completely alone, there are people who can understand his situation. Brett goes on to give him advice about how the pain of losing a loved one will ease, which Jack finds comforting, and this initial bond paves the way for a real friendship. Jack asks about Brett’s twin, and what Brett shares with him reminds him of Finn. He thinks they “would have gotten along well” (261)—a remark that bridges past and present and suggests Jack is emerging from his grief to appreciate all that life still has to offer.
Jack’s final transformation occurs when he finally forgives Autumn following her suicide attempt, giving her the candy that Finn bought for her on the night he died. This moment shows that he has let go of his anger over any part she may have inadvertently played in Finn’s death. He reminds her that she is part of Finn’s legacy, but he also reminds her that she is loved and would be missed for her own sake. When they hug, Jack reflects, “It feels like hugging Finn. I know now that she’s going to be a part of my life for a long time” (279). By forging this connection with Autumn, Jack can reconnect with Finn in a way that is far more powerful than his previous daydreams of Finn attending college with him. As he drives home, he makes peace with Finn’s death, reflecting that he is “so grateful that Finn was once alive and that [Jack] got to love him. That [Finn] got to love and be loved. And be loved still” (279). This shift to hope for the future is crucial to Jack’s arc, and it is only possible due to his reconnection with those around him.
Loss of Identity Leads to Growth
The novel suggests that the death of a loved one can cause an identity crisis for survivors. When Autumn loses Finn, she is not sure who she is or if she even wants to live. However, this crisis is also an opportunity, and Autumn emerges from it with a stronger sense of identity and self-worth.
The novel explores Autumn’s character growth in large part through her pregnancy, which poses practical complications to her life and sense of self while also symbolizing the possibility of life emerging out of loss. Autumn is determined to bring Finn’s baby into the world but feels ambivalent about her own life and is extremely passive early in Part 3. Motherhood provides a possible identity to fill the void, so Autumn tries to focus on this, but it is a complicated and fraught topic. In fact, Angelina suggests that becoming a parent is as much a loss as it is a gain, as it necessarily involves the death of one’s old self, including (in pregnancy) changes to one’s very body: “Being a mother is all about losing control and then surviving it” (288). Angie similarly struggles with the loss of identity that has come with motherhood: She loves her daughter but feels as though she has become a stranger to herself in the process of having a baby. Pregnancy and motherhood therefore threaten to compound the loss of self that Autumn experiences after Finn’s death.
Nevertheless, Autumn tries to find control by investigating parenting techniques and getting advice from others, and through this, she begins to slowly make her way back to herself. She has always loved to read, so finding her way back to the library to begin researching parenthood is a major turning point in which she takes more ownership of her pregnancy and integrates it with her prior identity. Autumn’s relationship with Angie also helps her rebuild her sense of self. Just as Autumn suggests ways for Angie to explore her interests in a new, baby-friendly way, Angie pushes Autumn to return to one of her oldest loves, reading. Their interactions suggest that one’s personal identity can evolve and adapt while still preserving its core elements. Even the part of Autumn that was intertwined with Finn can survive in some form, as there are moments when she attempts to replicate what Finn would have done for her. After trying on a little black dress, she decides, “Even if I don’t have Finny to tell me I look beautiful, I can tell myself for him” (341). In this way, Autumn folds Finn into her new identity.
It is through Autumn’s relationship with others that she reaches true growth and maturity. In the final chapter, she reflects:
For now, for the beginning of my adult life, I’m surrounding myself with people who carry pieces of Finny with them, like I do. Like Jack does, and Mom and Angelina, and even John. And people who give me good advice and care for me, like Angie and Brittaney (390).
Autumn is consciously crafting her adult identity, including the things that make her stronger while cutting away those that do not add value. In this way, her loss of identity has led to an even stronger sense of self than she had previously. She is confident, mature, and ready to take on motherhood and whatever else life holds for her.
