We Were Liars: Major differences between the Prime Video adaptation and Lockhart's novel, explored in depth

When We Were Liars hit Prime Video in June 2025, it wasn’t just a page-to-screen adaptation—it was a full-on reimagining of one of Gen Z’s favorite psychological thrillers. First published in 2014 and later revived by BookTok during the pandemic, E. Lockhart’s We Were Liars has now been reintroduced through the visual lens of Julie Plec and Carina Adly MacKenzie.

While the series honors the book’s core mystery and emotional architecture—yes, the twist is the same—it takes several bold liberties in fleshing out side characters, restructuring the timeline, and surfacing deeper themes around race, class, and grief.

If you’ve read the book and watched the series, you probably noticed some major shifts. But if you haven’t—or you just want to unpack what really changed—here’s an in-depth comparison between the We Were Liars novel and its Prime Video counterpart. Buckle up: this isn’t just about plot points. It’s about what happens when you revisit a ghost story with a 2025 lens.

Spoiler warning:

This article contains full spoilers for both the We Were Liars book and Prime Video series, including character fates, twist endings, and key story revelations. If you haven’t read or watched it yet, stop here. The truth is waiting—but so is heartbreak.

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What changed in We Were Liars: Book vs. Prime Video series

1. Summers collapsed: One timeline, one fire

What changes:

The book unfolds across three summers—Cadence’s blooming love with Gat in summer fifteen, the fire in summer sixteen, and her return in summer seventeen. Plus, there’s an entire “Europe year” where Cady’s shipped off in the aftermath.

In the show, all of that gets condensed. The fire, Tipper’s death, the romance, and even the fallout happen over just two summers—summer sixteen and summer seventeen. The Europe year is skipped entirely. The story feels tighter, more immediate, but at the cost of the book’s quiet emotional slow burn.

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2. Johnny’s story is no longer just background

What changes:

Johnny Sinclair gets an entirely new emotional arc in the show. While the book paints him as the fun cousin, the adaptation gives him real weight: he’s gay, struggling at school, and hiding a violent incident from his past.

Key additions:

• He comes out to the Liars, who accept him instantly.
• His mother, Carrie, barely reacts, brushing it off.
• His school altercation (and Harris’s hush-up) shows the Sinclairs’ obsession with image.

The Johnny in We Were Liars, the show, isn’t just charming—he’s cornered by expectations and failing adults.

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3. Cady’s privilege isn’t just subtext anymore

What changes:

In the book, Cady slowly realizes the racial and class dynamics that surround her, but it's mostly internal.

In the series:

Cady actively confronts her grandfather’s racism, calls out the colonial artifacts in his home, and reads books like Caste by Isabel Wilkerson. She’s not just awakening; she’s arguing.

This version of We Were Liars makes sure the audience sees the rot inside the Sinclair legacy—not just through symbolism, but through direct dialogue.

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4. Gat finally gets a voice

What changes:

In the novel, Gat is poetic and idealistic but often filtered through Cady’s romantic lens.

In the series:

He speaks for himself. He calls out Cady’s privilege. He pushes back. He questions what love looks like between someone like him and someone who benefits from inherited wealth.

It’s not just a love story—it’s a collision of worldviews.

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5. The fire feels more intentional and less symbolic

What changes:

In the novel, the fire is messy, tragic, and abstract. You know what happened only after pages of unraveling.

In the show:

We see the fire, the plan, and the mistakes. The flashbacks are clearer. There’s more tension, more pacing, and more visual horror. It's not just a twist—it’s a fully built emotional climax.

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6. Mirren becomes her own tragedy

What changes:

In the book, Mirren is ethereal and distant—she invents a fake boyfriend, and we know she’s ill, but not why.

The show gives her

• A s*xting scandal gone wrong
• A fake boyfriend, still, but now part of a deeper insecurity
• A short-lived romance with a water taxi boy
• A rage at her mom’s affair and hypocrisy

Mirren’s breakdown becomes one of the most humanizing threads in We Were Liars. She’s no longer the delicate cousin—she’s a time bomb of hurt and confusion.

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7. Bess and Carrie’s inheritance battle is front and center

What changes:

The book hints at sibling rivalry. The show dives into it. Bess has an affair with a dockworker. Carrie blackmails her. Penny, meanwhile, schemes her way to Harris’s favor.

In the adaptation:

• The sisters manipulate, lash out, and expose each other.
• Harris pulls strings, like making Carrie leave her Indian boyfriend.
• The fire becomes the Liars’ way of shutting them all down.

This subplot reframes the Liars’ decision: it’s not just teenage rebellion. It’s a desperate act in a house full of emotional warfare.

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8. The ghosts are still there—and maybe more

What changes:

In both the book and the show, the Liars are ghosts. That twist remains untouched. But in the series’ final moments, we see Carrie still talking to Johnny. Even after Cady lets go.

And then:

• The aunts mention “Rosemary,” a sister who died young.
• There’s a mysterious silence about that summer.
• A prequel tease? Absolutely.

We Were Liars, the series, is already building toward Family of Liars, and those last few scenes all but confirm it.

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We Were Liars has evolved into something more brutal

If the novel whispered truths about loss, guilt, and privilege, the Prime Video adaptation of We Were Liars yells them. It adds clarity without losing mystery and gives characters room to bleed. It might not have the same elliptical beauty as the book, but it feels like it was made for a world more ready to look at inherited damage head-on.

So yes, the twist still hurts. But this time, the lead-up wounds you in ways you didn’t expect.