Written by Molly Minnium
Prime Video’s Every Year After, based on Carley Fortune’s bestselling novel Every Summer After, remains largely faithful to the book’s central storyline but makes several significant changes that ultimately alter the show’s impact. While the series succeeds in expanding certain supporting characters and delivering plenty of drama, it struggles to capture the romantic chemistry between Percy and Sam that made the novel such a compelling story.
The series follows Percy Fraser (Sadie Soverall, Fate: The Winx Saga) and brothers Charlie Florek (Michael Bradway, Chicago P.D.) and Sam Florek (Matt Cornett, High School Musical: The Musical: The Series), childhood friends whose bond deepens over years of summers spent together at Barry’s Bay. Told through alternating timelines, the story gradually reveals how Sam and Percy’s close friendship evolved into love before one devastating mistake changed everything. Years later, Percy returns to Barry’s Bay following the death of The Florek’s mother, Sue, forcing her to confront both the memories she left behind and the feelings she never truly moved on from.
For OG novel fans, many of the adaptation’s biggest changes become noticeable almost immediately. Several supporting characters are given significantly larger roles, while entirely new storylines are introduced to create additional conflict. Some of these changes work surprisingly well, while others distract from what made the original story resonate so strongly with readers.
Percy’s childhood best friend, Delilah Mason (Abigail Cowen, Fate: The Winx Saga) is perhaps the best example of an expansion that benefits the adaptation. In the novel, she exists primarily on the outskirts of Percy and Sam’s story, but the series transforms her into a much more prominent character. Initially, she is difficult to sympathize with. Many of her decisions feel selfish and rude, and she frequently creates tension for those around her. However, the show gradually reveals more layers to her character, particularly through the teenage pregnancy storyline created specifically for the adaptation.
While Delilah’s choices are often frustrating, she becomes easier to understand as the season goes on. Cowen does much of the heavy lifting in making Delilah sympathetic, she brings enough vulnerability to the role that viewers can understand the loneliness and insecurity driving many of her actions. By the end of the season, Delilah emerges as one of the series’ more emotionally complex characters and one of the few additions that genuinely enriches the story. Additionally, her affair with Charlie adds to the build of his character ahead of a rumored second season.
Unfortunately, not every expanded storyline is as successful as Delilah’s. Characters such as Chantal (Aurora Perrineau, Westworld) and Jordie (Joseph Chiu, Fear Street: Prom Queen) receive far more attention than they do in the novel, and much of that additional focus feels unnecessary. The adaptation introduces new relationship drama and conflicts that often feel disconnected from the key focus of the story. Chantal’s expanded role in particular never feels fully justified, and some of the newly created storylines come across as forced rather than natural developments.
Sue Florek (Elisha Cuthbert, The Girl Next Door) also receives a somewhat expanded presence in the adaptation. In the novel, Sue serves as an important maternal figure for Percy and one of the emotional anchors of the story. The series builds upon that role, emphasizing the bond between the two women and making Sue’s influence on Percy’s life feel even more significant. However, some of the show’s changes surrounding Sue, particularly her role in bringing Percy back to Barry’s Bay, feel more dramatic than necessary. Sue leaving Percy the Tavern she owns in her will causes more tension between her and the Florek brothers. While the added focus reinforces how deeply Sue cared for Percy, it also reflects a larger trend throughout the adaptation of turning subtle emotional moments into larger plot developments.
The series is rarely boring, and the constant tension keeps viewers invested in what will happen next. However, the additional drama also comes at a cost. Multiple infidelities, betrayal, secrets, and fractured friendships become recurring conflicts throughout the season. While the novel certainly revolves around a mistake that changes the course of Percy and Sam’s lives, the adaptation often feels determined to raise the stakes whenever possible. At times, that approach works. Unfortunately, the quieter moments that make the novel feel so intimate are often pushed aside in favor of larger drama. Instead of feeling like a story about first love, regret, and longing, the series feels like an emotionally draining train wreck. The simplicity that made the novel so effective becomes buried beneath layers of added drama.
Ironically, Percy and Sam’s romance is where the adaptation struggles the most. In the novel, their relationship feels natural and inevitable. Their connection develops slowly over years of friendship, creating a foundation that makes both their romance and eventual separation feel heartbreaking. Readers spend so much time with them growing together that the fallout carries a strong emotional weight. The series never quite manages to recreate that feeling. Moments that felt intimate and authentic on the page often come across as awkwardly lacking chemistry on screen. Soverall and Cornett rarely capture the effortless connection that defines Percy and Sam in the novel. Rather than watching two people gradually fall in love, viewers are frequently told how important their connection is without fully feeling it themselves.
Part of that issue comes from the casting. While both actors deliver committed performances, neither fully embodies the versions of Percy and Sam imagined while reading the novel. More importantly, the chemistry between them often feels surprisingly limited, missing a spark that the story desperately needs. What makes that problem even more noticeable is that Percy often shares stronger chemistry with Charlie than she does with Sam. While this adds to an important layer of the story, the chemistry is noticeably stronger. Percy and Charlie’s scenes feel more natural and emotionally charged. Viewers who didn’t read the book may find themselves rooting for Percy and Charlie instead.
Charlie himself also undergoes significant changes in the adaptation. Already a frustrating character in the novel, he becomes an even bigger jerk in the series. To Bradway’s credit, he leans fully into Charlie’s flaws without making him entirely unlikeable. His natural chemistry with Soverall often makes Charlie a more engaging screen presence than intended. The show expands both his role and the fallout surrounding his relationship with Percy. While these additions certainly raise the emotional stakes, they also contribute to one of the show’s biggest problems: Sam’s reaction to Percy and Charlie’s secret.
Throughout much of the series, Sam’s resentment toward Percy and Charlie feels far more intense than the situation warrants. His hurt is understandable, and he has every right to feel betrayed. However, the adaptation stretches that anger across so much of the narrative that it eventually becomes difficult to sympathize with him after all he’s done to hurt Percy. The punishment rarely feels proportional to the crime. Cornett effectively portrays Sam’s anger and heartbreak, but the writing often pushes the character so far into resentment that even a strong performance cannot fully bridge the gap between audience frustration and sympathy.
As a result, the second half of the season creates an unexpected dilemma. Rather than desperately hoping Percy and Sam will find their way back to one another, viewers may find themselves increasingly frustrated by Sam’s treatment of Percy. The novel succeeds because Sam already knew the secret and moved past it through the years. Here, the balance shifts so heavily toward Sam’s resentment that the eventual reconciliation loses its emotional satisfaction.
Had I not already read the novel, I’m not sure I would have wanted Percy and Sam together by the finale. That is perhaps the adaptation’s biggest failure. A romance lives or dies based on whether viewers want the central couple to succeed, and too often the series undermines its own love story by making their relationship feel more frustrating than romantic.
That is not to say the series lacks strengths. Barry’s Bay remains as beautiful as readers imagined, and the show captures the nostalgic atmosphere of endless summers remarkably well. The lakeside setting becomes a character of its own, creating a sense of warmth and longing that helps maintain some of the novel’s charm. Several supporting performances help to elevate the material, particularly among characters whose roles were expanded for the adaptation. Cowen emerges as one of the season’s strongest performers, while Bradway brings unexpected depth to Charlie despite some of the character’s more frustrating choices. Together, the supporting cast often provides some of the show’s most compelling moments.
The finale appears to plant the seeds for a potential second season centered on Charlie and novel One Golden Summer. Charlie discovers the photograph of him, Sam and Percy on the yellow boat in his boss’s office, a moment that readers of One Golden Summer will immediately recognize. It’s a subtle but effective tease that suggests the series has larger plans for Charlie’s story. Given how much his role has already been expanded throughout the season, the setup feels earned and may ultimately be one of the adaptation’s most successful changes. Furthermore Charlie appears to have a heart attack at the end of the finale. In One Golden Summer, Charlie is sick with the same heart condition that killed his father.
Ultimately, Every Year After finds itself facing the same challenge as many romance adaptations: recreating a connection that readers spent hundreds of pages falling in love with. The series succeeds in bringing Barry’s Bay to life and gives characters like Delilah more depth than they received in the novel, but those strengths are ultimately overshadowed by the weaknesses at the center of the story. Percy and Sam’s romance never feels as convincing as it needs to, the added drama often distracts from the focal love story, and the many changes leave the ending feeling less satisfying than it should.
That does not mean the series is without merit. There are genuine emotional moments scattered throughout the season, and viewers unfamiliar with the book may find themselves more receptive to some of the adaptation’s changes. Yet for readers who connected deeply with Fortune’s novel, it may be difficult to ignore what has been lost in translation. The book’s greatest strength was never the drama but the aching sense of longing between two people who spent years trying to move on from one another. The adaptation understands the plot of that story, but it never really captures the feeling.
By the time the credits roll, certain additions are ultimately appreciated but the series’ creative team should have trusted the simplicity of the original novel. Some stories are meant to be expanded for television. Every Year After left me feeling that this one worked better on paper.
