E. Lockhart’s latest addition to her beloved We Were Liars universe proves that some family legacies are impossible to escape—and some truths are too dangerous to uncover. We Fell Apart stands as the third installment in a series that has captivated readers with its gothic sensibility and atmospheric storytelling, though this time the story ventures into darker, more complex territory than its predecessors.
The novel follows eighteen-year-old Matilda Avalon Klein, who receives an unexpected email from Kingsley Cello, the famous reclusive artist she’s never known as her father. The invitation to Hidden Beach—his seaside castle estate—promises answers about her identity and a painting meant just for her. What Matilda finds instead is a crumbling sanctuary inhabited by her half-brother Meer, former child star Brock, and the brooding Tatum, all living in a strange suspended reality while Kingsley remains mysteriously absent.
The Weight of Literary Inheritance
For readers familiar with We Were Liars and Family of Liars, this novel deepens the mythology of the Sinclair family while standing independently as its own haunting tale. Lockhart cleverly weaves connections to the previous books through the family tree, revealing how Kingsley Cello—born Kincaid Sinclair—escaped his toxic family only to potentially recreate similar patterns of dysfunction at Hidden Beach. The revelation that Matilda connects to the tragic Sinclair lineage adds layers of meaning for series devotees while remaining accessible to newcomers.
Where We Were Liars delivered its devastating twist with surgical precision and Family of Liars explored the origins of family dysfunction, We Fell Apart takes a more meandering approach. This isn’t necessarily a weakness—Lockhart’s intention seems to mirror Matilda’s own disorientation as she navigates this strange new world. However, readers expecting the tightly wound suspense of the first book may find themselves initially frustrated by the slower burn.
A Canvas of Atmospheric Prose
Lockhart’s signature writing style reaches new heights—and occasionally, excesses—in this installment. Her fragmented, almost poetry-like prose creates an dreamlike quality that perfectly captures the gothic atmosphere of Hidden Beach:
“It was a bad place to fall in love. On the property called Hidden Beach, a wooden castle stood on a monstrous cliff. It was a place of barbecues, sunblock, acoustic guitars, and midnight swims. Oil paint, intrusive briars. Hungry dogs.”
This stylistic choice proves both the novel’s greatest strength and its most polarizing element. The staccato rhythm, the single-sentence paragraphs, the repetition—all work brilliantly to create mood and tension. Yet at times, the style can feel self-conscious, as if Lockhart is so enamored with her own poetic voice that she forgets to let the story breathe. Some readers may find themselves wishing for more traditional narrative passages to ground the more experimental moments.
The Architecture of Secrets
The novel’s central mystery—what has happened to Kingsley Cello?—unfolds with careful deliberation. Lockhart constructs Hidden Beach as both a physical and metaphorical labyrinth, with each tower of the castle holding different secrets. The Bone Tower with its art studios, the Chalk Tower where the boys sleep, the locked rooms and hidden spaces all contribute to an atmosphere thick with unspoken truths.
What distinguishes this mystery from typical young adult thrillers is Lockhart’s refusal to provide easy answers or comfortable resolutions. The revelation of Kingsley’s dementia and his imprisonment in the tower is handled with surprising nuance, avoiding simple villain-victim dynamics. June’s role as both caregiver and captor raises uncomfortable questions about autonomy, love, and the ethics of care that resist pat answers.
Character Portraits: Light and Shadow
Matilda emerges as a compelling protagonist—simultaneously vulnerable and resilient, searching for identity while possessing a core strength she doesn’t fully recognize. Her passion for video game design provides a unique lens through which she processes her experiences, and Lockhart effectively uses game narratives as a parallel storytelling device.
The supporting cast, however, receives uneven development:
Strengths in characterization:
Meer’s complexity as both loving brother and keeper of dangerous secrets
The genuine warmth and humor in the boys’ relationships despite their dysfunctional circumstances
June’s portrayal as neither pure villain nor innocent victim
The exploration of Brock’s struggle with child star trauma
Areas that could be stronger:
Tatum’s motivations remain frustratingly opaque for much of the novel
The romance between Matilda and Tatum develops too quickly given his initial hostility
Secondary characters like Holland feel underutilized despite their narrative potential
Kingsley himself appears too late and too briefly to feel fully realized as a character
The Art of Deconstruction
One of the novel’s most fascinating elements is its exploration of art, creation, and legacy. Kingsley’s paintings—described in vivid detail—serve as windows into his psyche and clues to the family’s dark history. The references to fairy tales, Greek mythology, and video games create rich intertextual layers that reward close reading.
Lockhart’s decision to have Matilda create a video game called Chandelier as her own form of artistic processing provides a meta-commentary on storytelling itself. The game’s premise—navigating a water-filled castle while transforming from vulnerable to powerful—mirrors Matilda’s own journey in ways both subtle and overt.
Gothic Romance Meets Contemporary Issues
We Fell Apart succeeds in blending classic gothic tropes with contemporary concerns. The decaying castle by the sea recalls classic literature, yet Lockhart grounds the story in modern realities: discussions of consent, the ethics of medication and restraint for dementia patients, the complexity of chosen family versus biological family, and the lasting effects of childhood fame and exploitation.
The romance subplot, while predictable, develops with more authenticity in the latter half of the novel. The initial animosity between Matilda and Tatum eventually gives way to genuine connection, though some readers may wish for more development of their relationship beyond physical attraction and shared trauma.
Structural Considerations
The novel’s nine-part structure, with sections bearing titles like “Bone Tower,” “Truth,” and “Now and Forever,” provides clear demarcation while sometimes feeling arbitrary. The pacing sags in the middle sections as Matilda waits for Kingsley’s return, though Lockhart fills this space with rich atmospheric detail and character moments. The final act accelerates rapidly—perhaps too rapidly—rushing through revelations and consequences that might have benefited from more space to resonate.
The epilogue, set years later with Matilda and Tatum in college, provides closure while leaving room for interpretation. It’s simultaneously satisfying and slightly too neat for a story that has trafficked in ambiguity and discomfort.
Critical Balance: What Works and What Doesn’t
Narrative achievements:
Masterful atmosphere and sensory detail
Complex exploration of family dysfunction and caregiving
Unique prose style that distinguishes it from typical YA fare
Thoughtful handling of difficult topics like dementia and abuse
Areas of concern:
The middle section drags as it awaits its own revelation
Some plot points feel underdeveloped or rushed
The stylistic flourishes occasionally overwhelm substance
Not all threads receive satisfying resolution
Who Should Read This Book
We Fell Apart will most appeal to readers who value atmospheric storytelling and literary prose over plot-driven narratives. Fans of the series will appreciate the deeper dive into Sinclair family history, though the novel stands alone successfully. Those who struggled with Lockhart’s fragmented style in previous books may find this even more challenging, while admirers of experimental young adult fiction will likely celebrate its ambitions.
This isn’t a comfortable read—it’s meant to unsettle, to raise questions without always providing answers, to linger in moral gray areas. Readers seeking clear resolutions or uncomplicated heroes will be frustrated. Those willing to sit with discomfort and ambiguity will find much to ponder.
Similar Reads to Explore
If you enjoyed We Fell Apart, consider:
The Secret History by Donna Tartt for gothic academia and morally complex characters
Mexican Gothic by Silvia Moreno-Garcia for atmospheric horror in a decaying estate
We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson for family secrets and isolation
Everything I Never Told You by Celeste Ng for family dysfunction and mystery
Genuine Fraud by E. Lockhart (author’s other standalone psychological thriller)
Final Verdict: A Flawed but Fascinating Return
We Fell Apart represents both an evolution and a risk for E. Lockhart. It’s her most stylistically ambitious work in the series, her most complex in terms of moral questions, and perhaps her least accessible in terms of structure and pacing. The novel doesn’t achieve the devastating perfection of We Were Liars, but it offers something different—a meditation on art, identity, and the ways we inherit not just genes but patterns of behavior from families we barely know.
We Fell Apart earns its place in the series not by replicating previous successes but by expanding the universe in unexpected directions. It’s a worthy addition that will likely divide readers while providing ample material for discussion and reflection. For those willing to wade through its more indulgent moments, We Fell Apart offers rewards in its atmospheric power, its unflinching examination of difficult issues, and its ultimately hopeful message about breaking free from toxic legacies.
Lockhart continues to prove herself a distinctive voice in young adult literature, unafraid to experiment with form and content. While this novel may not convert skeptics of her style, it will satisfy existing fans and demonstrate her growth as a writer willing to take risks.