First, I’ll acknowledge that this book probably will not appeal to a wide audience. But for me, I loved it. I loved its poetic rhythm. I loved its metaphor-laden prose. I loved its mystery and its depth. I even loved its dreadfully sad and self-pitying first-person protagonist.
We Were Liars follows a handful of cousins (born to trust-fund sisters with faulted relationships) and their friend over the course of several summers of their youth. Okay, so they spend time on the family-owned island. With cooks. And staff. But the book is not about the over-the-top lives of such of the one-percent. It is about the struggle of our lead character after a tragic accident (and the lead-up to it). It is about the interplay of this family surrounding that event. It is about childish stupidity and self-absorption and greed and trauma. It is about emotion. Deep, raw, bleak, and painful emotion.
I will categorize this as a coming-of-age book; there is young love and first love and the ensuing heartache. And I suppose it can even qualify as young adult literature; the bulk, of course, deals with our cast in their teen years. But I found so much depth in the words on the pages that I recommend it more so for adults.
I debated over how to rate this book. As is so often my final sway, of course, I rounded up from an “and-a-half” consideration. (Dear MacBook: can I please get a half asterisk on my keyboard?) The unique style of this novel pushed me to the full five stars. But it’s not a traditional five-star rating from me. The telling of this tale is so unique, though….. And like I said this style is different. And it will put some off.
But for me—I thoroughly enjoyed it.