Welcome to the beautiful Sinclair family. No one is a criminal. No one is an addict. No one is a failure.
In the opening sentences of We Were Liars, Cadence introduces the reader to her family, declaring their virtues. However, by defining her family members by what they are not, Cadence signals to the reader that she is being ironic, and that these traits, far from being absent, in fact define their family. By the end of the novel, the reader will learn that Cadence herself is actually a criminal and an addict, and her mother and aunts view themselves as failures. In contrast to the image of perfection the Sinclair family tries to uphold, they are dysfunctional, repressed, wounded, and defeated.
If I google traumatic brain injury, most websites tell me selective amnesia is a consequence. When there’s damage to the brain, it’s not uncommon for a patient to forget stuff. She will be unable to piece together a coherent story of the trauma.
Following her accident, Cadence becomes aware of the possibility that she has lost sections of her memory. In this passage, she signals to the reader that she is not a reliable narrator of her own story. However, the rest of the book will depict her steadily piecing together a coherent narrative, filling in the gaps until she can come to terms with what her traumatized brain has instinctively erased.
I reach and clutch her hand.
“Be normal now,” she whispers. “Right now.”
“What?”
“Because you are. Because you can be.”
Okay. Okay. It was just a tree.
Just a tree with a tire swing that I loved a lot.
“Don’t cause a scene,” whispers Mummy. “Breathe and sit up.”
I do what she asks as soon as I am able, just as I have always done.
After a year away because of her accident, Cadence returns to Beechwood Island for summer seventeen. In this passage, she realizes that the rebuilding of the Clairmont house involved the disappearance of a tire swing she associates with Gat. Although she is unaware of the deeper sorrow the missing swing provokes, Cadence nonetheless feels the pain of her trauma. However, her mother cuts off Cadence's trauma response by instructing her to breathe and sit up, which Cadence promptly does. The moment is significant because it shows how Penny instills the habit of repressing emotions in her daughter, just as Harris demonstrated for her.
We were living off her trust. It wouldn’t last forever. So when Granddad said he might leave his money to build Harvard a student center and asked our advice, he wasn’t involving the family in his financial plans. He was making a threat.
In one of the memories of summer fifteen that return to Cadence during summer seventeen, Harris puts his grandchildren on the spot by asking them what they think about him leaving his estate to Harvard, his alma mater. Although his tone is friendly, Cadence senses the venom in his words. With his daughters sitting within earshot, Harris is making a passive-aggressive threat to cut everyone out of his will. The passage is significant because it shows a darker side to Harris. Acting out rather than confronting his dissatisfaction and grief, Harris manipulates his daughters into vying for his support.
On Beechwood summer fifteen, the aunties filled in for Gran, making slumps and fussing around Granddad as if he hadn’t been living alone in Boston since Tipper died in October. But they were quarrelsome. They no longer had the glue of Gran keeping them together, and they fought over their memories, her jewelry, the clothes in her closet, her shoes, even. These affairs had not been settled in October. People’s feelings had been too delicate then. It had all been left for the summer. When we got to Beechwood in late June, Bess had already inventoried Gran’s Boston possessions and now began with those in Clairmont. The aunts had copies on their tablets and pulled them up regularly.
Following Tipper's death, Cadence's mother and aunts share in the role she played in the family. However, her death precipitates arguments and greed. In this passage, Cadence details how a sense of competition emerges between the women as they divide up their mother's possessions. This passage is significant because it shows the beginnings of the conflict that will draw out the cruelest and most defensive versions of Harris, Penny, Bess, and Carrie. By the time that conflict erupts, Cadence and the Liars will be so fed up with their elders that they will seek to settle things with a "cleansing" fire.
I knew what I was supposed to say. “I’m more than okay there, I’m fantastic. I love Windemere because you built it specially for Mummy. I want to raise my own children there and my children’s children. You are so excellent, Granddad. You are the patriarch and I revere you. I am so glad I am a Sinclair. This is the best family in America.” Not in those words. But I was meant to help Mummy keep the house by telling my grandfather that he was the big man, that he was the cause of all our happiness, and by reminding him that I was the future of the family. The all-American Sinclairs would perpetuate ourselves, tall and white and beautiful and rich, if only he let Mummy and me stay in Windemere. I was supposed to make Granddad feel in control when his world was spinning because Gran had died. I was to beg him by praising him—never acknowledging the aggression behind his question. My mother and her sisters were dependent on Granddad and his money. They had the best educations, a thousand chances, a thousand connections, and still they’d ended up unable to support themselves. None of them did anything useful in the world. Nothing necessary. Nothing brave. They were still little girls, trying to get in good with Daddy. He was their bread and butter, their cream and honey, too.
“It’s too big for us,” I told Granddad.
In this passage, Cadence details how her mother enlists her help in stroking her grandfather's ego so that they can retain the Windemere house. While Cadence knows what she ought to say, she reflects on the pity she feels toward her mother and aunts, who continue to live under their father's authority. This passage is significant because it marks the moment Cadence refuses to play the same pathetic game as them. Instead, she tells her grandfather that the house is too big for just her and her mother.
“That’s the thing,” said Gat. “Everyone’s always asking Harris about everything. Why should a grown woman have to ask her father to approve her wedding?”
“Granddad wouldn’t stop her.”
“No,” said Gat. “But back when Carrie first moved in with Ed, Harris made it clear that all the money earmarked for her would disappear if she married him. The point is, Harris doesn’t like Ed’s color. He’s a racist bastard, and so was Tipper. Yes, I like them both for a lot of reasons, and they have been more than generous letting me come here every summer. I’m willing to think that Harris doesn’t even realize why he doesn’t like my uncle, but he dislikes him enough to disinherit his eldest daughter.”
Part of the memory Cadence lost during the Clairmont fire includes this tense exchange between her and Gat. In this passage, Gat tries to open Cadence's eyes to the racist her grandfather really is. Unbeknownst to Cadence, Gat's uncle Ed proposed to Carrie but Carrie turned him down because she knew marriage to an Indian man would risk provoking her father to cut her out of his will. The revelation of Harris's manipulative tendencies is significant because it contributes to the Liars' desire to burn Clairmont, a house vested with the patriarchal power Harris wields over the family.
Granddad’s voice boomed across the yard. “This is the United States of America,” he said. “You don’t seem to understand that, Penny, so let me explain. In America, here is how we operate: We work for what we want, and we get ahead. We never take no for answer, and we deserve the rewards of our perseverance. Will, Taft, are you listening? ... We Sinclairs are a grand, old family. That is something to be proud of. Our traditions and values form the bedrock on which future generations stand. This island is our home, as it was my father’s and my grandfather’s before him. And yet the three of you women, with these divorces, broken homes, this disrespect for tradition, this lack of a work ethic, you have done nothing but disappoint an old man who thought he raised you right.”
As Cadence's lost memories of summer fifteen return to him, she recalls an uncomfortable outdoor dinner in which her grandfather erupted in anger. In this passage, Harris intimidates his children and grandchildren by displaying his patriarchal authority over them. A sharp contrast against the caring, demure figure Cadence usually depicted him as, Harris belittles his daughters for bringing shame to the family by getting divorced and not working as hard as he did. The passage is significant because Harris's emotionally abusive behavior leads Cadence and the Liars to retaliate by burning down his house.
These same doctors advised Cadence’s mother to stop explaining the tragedy if Cadence could not recall it herself. It was too much to be told of the trauma fresh each day. Let her remember in her own time. She should not return to Beechwood Island until she’d had significant time to heal. In fact, any measures possible should be taken to keep her from the island in the year immediately after the accident. Cadence displayed a disquieting desire to rid herself of all unnecessary possessions, even things of sentimental value, almost as if doing penance for past crimes. She darkened her hair and took to dressing very simply. Her mother sought professional advice about Cadence’s behavior and was advised that it appeared a normal part of the grieving process.
Toward the end of the book, Cadence supplies information about her accident that her post-traumatic amnesia had erased from the story. With her memory back, Cadence refers to herself in the third person, mimicking the detached language of the medical professionals responsible for her recovery. In this passage, the reader learns that Cadence's peculiar behavior was viewed by doctors as an understandable response to her trauma.
The Liars swim out, past the edge of the cove and into the open ocean. The sun is high in the sky and glints off the water, so bright, so bright. And then they dive—or something—or something—and they are gone. I am left, there on the southern tip of Beechwood Island. I am on the tiny beach, alone.
At the end of the novel, Cadence comes to terms with what actually happened during the fire that burnt down Clairmont: the flames took the lives of Mirren, Gat, and Johnny because Cadence lit the ground level before they were ready to vacate the gasoline-drenched house. No longer in denial about the tragedy, Cadence can say goodbye to the ghost versions of the Liars. In a bittersweet moment of closure, Cadence watches the Liars disappear into the ocean they have spent so many summers enjoying. With the Liars gone, Cadence finally accepts that she is alone with her restored memories.
