Lockhart’s bestselling YA novel We Were Liars has finally made its screen debut, premiering on June 18 on Prime Video. While the adaptation preserves the emotional intensity and chilling twists of the original, the series isn’t afraid to shake things up. From expanded character arcs and sharpened timelines to new romantic entanglements and stronger social commentary, the TV version reimagines the Sinclair family’s secrets for a modern audience.
A tighter timeline for a sharper emotional punch
In Lockhart’s novel, the story spans several summers, giving readers time to slowly unravel the complex web of memories, trauma, and relationships. However, the TV adaptation compresses the narrative into just two pivotal seasons: summers 16 and 17. This creative choice creates a sharper emotional contrast between Cadence’s carefree memories and the fragmented reality she faces after her injury.
The streamlined approach heightens the intensity of major events—Tipper’s death, Cady and Gat’s romance, and the devastating accident now all play out in a single, haunting summer. This accelerates the pacing and makes the tragedy feel more immediate, while also helping viewers track Cady’s psychological unraveling in real time.
Deeper character arcs add nuance and drama
The adaptation significantly broadens the emotional and psychological range of its characters—most notably with Johnny Sinclair, who emerges as one of the show’s most layered figures. Unlike the book, where Johnny remains more of a secondary presence, the series reintroduces him as openly gay. His arc explores themes of secrecy, school bullying, and identity, deepening the series’ examination of how the Sinclair family’s perfectionist veneer hides painful truths.
Cady’s cousins—once primarily background characters—also receive more space to grow. The addition of these personal struggles, particularly among the younger Sinclairs, reframes the story not just as a mystery, but as a study in inherited trauma, survival, and resilience.
Confronting privilege and racism head-on
One of the most notable shifts from page to screen is how the series interrogates the Sinclair family’s wealth and whiteness. While Lockhart’s book subtly alludes to issues of racism and class through the character of Gat, the show makes those conversations explicit.
Cady’s grandfather Harris, always a towering and controlling figure, is directly challenged in the series—particularly by Cady herself. She doesn’t just argue with him; she educates herself. In a quiet but powerful moment, she’s seen reading Caste by Isabel Wilkerson, signalling her growing awareness of systemic injustice. These changes transform Cady from a passive observer into a young woman actively questioning the very foundation of her privilege—much of which is prompted by her love for Gat, a character given greater complexity in the series.
Romance reimagined: New love stories and emotional depth
While the book keeps romantic subplots relatively minimal, the series opens the door to the complicated love lives of the Sinclair women. Bess, Mirren’s mother, is not just a distant and detached parent—her affair with a harbor employee becomes a scandal that adds tension to the family dynamic. These adult storylines mirror the youthful confusion of Cady and her cousins, showing that emotional dysfunction cuts across generations.
Mirren, too, is given a romantic arc that allows her character to break free from the limited portrayal in the book. Her relationship offers insight into her inner world—her longing for affection, her rebellion against familial expectations, and her slow realization of what true connection looks like.
Gat and Ed finally get the spotlight
In the novel, Gat is a symbol of forbidden love and philosophical rebellion, but the show breathes new life into his story, giving both him and his uncle Ed fuller, richer arcs. This is no accident—E. Lockhart collaborated with four Indian-descended writers for the show, each bringing depth and cultural nuance to these characters.
“We had four writers of Indian descent bringing not only their lived experience, but also their comedy chops and thriller expertise,” Lockhart explained in an interview with Swooon. “Gat and Ed are given complexity and bigger storylines than I could have written myself.”
The result is a Gat who feels more real—torn between love, cultural identity, and his outsider status among the Sinclairs. His backstory, motivations, and relationship with Cady are more textured, creating a romance that feels urgent and lived-in rather than just poetic.
The Sinclair sisters steal the show
Though the book centers heavily on the teen characters, the TV series takes a White Lotus-inspired turn by spotlighting the adult Sinclair sisters—Bess, Penny, and Carrie. With rich performances from Candice King (as Bess), Caitlin Fitzgerald (Penny), and Mamie Gummer (Carrie), these women bring flair, dysfunction, and black comedy to the screen.
Lockhart herself praised the performances, saying, “They run around in the most amazing clothes, and they are funny with each other, and they fight with each other, and they are up to all kinds of entitled sisterly shenanigans.”
Far from being one-note secondary characters, the Sinclair sisters are messy, magnetic, and deeply flawed—a reflection of the generational cycles of control, vanity, and ambition that haunt the family. They lend the show a richness that goes beyond teen drama, offering a mirror to the younger generation’s struggles and mistakes.
Final thoughts: A bolder, darker retelling
While We Were Liars remains faithful to its emotional spine—the secrets, the tragedy, the gut-wrenching twist—the Prime Video adaptation isn’t afraid to take creative liberties. By tightening the timeline, diversifying character arcs, and pulling the veil back on privilege and identity, the show transforms the story into something bolder, more complex, and deeply contemporary. The result is a series that doesn’t just retell a familiar YA story—it expands it, reframes it, and dares its characters (and viewers) to confront the cost of keeping up appearances.
