Welcome back to collective thoughts on what it means to be a lover of story and growth. Because that’s what we are, isn’t it? A community of those who have gathered around books in order to grow, learn, and pass on wisdom to future generations.
And the world has been so heavy … I would say “lately,” but lately seems an understatement. 2026 has treated us to a couple of scenarios where lovers of a beloved classic book don’t believe the movie output matches the intent of the author, so let’s dive in.
Hot take (but keep it low stakes)
So I, JacQueline, have decided today to take us on a low-stakes guide to what a “hot take” can do in the bookish community. In other words, how can we be silly and dramatic about something that doesn’t have life-or-death consequences? It’s oddly therapeutic for some of us.
Really! Let me explain.
I’ve seen it with my kids when I give them space to “infodump” about a hot-button topic impacting a fandom they are part of. The dramatic sighs, the flailing of limbs as they present their case, the back-and-forth until they reach a resolution of some sort—usually just the need to be heard—and then the contentment and relief they experience afterwards.
They’ve expressed strong opinions and powerful emotions. They’ve been heard and seen. They’re satisfied. Fascinating!
The fandom of classic book lovers
Well, our fandom here is classic books, right? And we take our books seriously while also knowing as adults that these worlds are fictional. Incredibly important, but not life and death.
So, let’s play.
It is a common theme among book lovers to get together and complain when filmmakers create movies out of our favorite books. If you ever want to participate in a “hot take” in the bookish community, say something like, “Oh, the movie was so much better than the book,” and then STAND BACK because outrage is heading your way.
Some of you may be chuckling at this as you have seen it in action. Perhaps you have even poked the bear.
Why do we as readers have such a visceral reaction? I believe it’s for a few reasons. See if you can follow, and let me know if you agree/disagree/have other points to contribute. (Yes, please, let’s discuss!!!)
Different strokes for different folks … er, readers?
First, I think we can all agree no two readers are the same. We each come into reading a book having come from different families, having received different ways of learning to understand and incorporate narratives into our consciousness, not to mention different cultures or languages, in many cases.
Second, there are the seasons of life. The way I understood dystopian literature in high school has wildly changed over the years. Classics like 1984 or Anthem are fascinating and disturbing on a different level now. Some of that has to do with how our society has changed over the years, and some of that has to do with my own growth as a person.
The wildly romantic view I held over Jane Eyre and her relationship with Mr. Rochester has definitely altered. I still love the story, but I view the relationship as problematic at best.
Third, some of my reactions have to do with the day I might have had. If I’ve had a squabble with my children, I am going to view Marmee in Little Women very differently. Like, did that woman do anything wrong when parenting her girls? I have discovered I feel like I either want to be more like her or I really don’t want the comparison. She feels as elusive as the oft-misunderstood Proverbs 31 wife.
My favorite (classic) book, but make it a movie
Taking this a step further, when I enjoy hearing a friend tell me their views on a book we’ve both read, it has a great deal to do with the trust and admiration we’ve built into our friendship. If they skip over my favorite part, I will likely extend patience, and not take it personally or feel dismissed. Because I love my friend, I trust there’s something else in the book that resonated for them and I’m eager to hear about that and see if I can learn something new. Besides, if they are a good friend, it’s a two-way communication and I’ll get to bring the conversation back around to sharing what struck me.
In many ways, a movie is like a synopsis of a well-loved story. It might not emphasize the same details and scenes we loved when we read the book. The screenwriter brought into the production their own upbringing, worldview, and interpretations of the original source material. And then you add the levels of direction, acting, costuming, scenery, lighting, and even musical composition … to support or change an interpretation of what has to be shorter than the book you loved.
The recent tragedy of Wuthering Heights, among other things
No wonder when the recent film of “Wuthering Heights” was released—name in quotes because, as film director Emerald Fennell said, she was giving it her own spin—classic book lovers were in an uproar. You may have missed the outrageous assault of opinions all over the book community, but I found it fascinating. And I didn’t engage except to listen and laugh.
Not because I approve of the interpretation—I researched the production, which was intended from the beginning to be a very odd interpretation with a sensual lens on what, in accepted scholarly circles, was never meant to be a love story with explicit scenes—but because I was engrossed by what we find worth talking about. How certain stories, especially those we read at impressionable ages, shape us, mold us, and they somehow become so identifiable that we feel personally attacked and degraded when a filmmaker changes the narrative.
Now, slated for 2027, we’re reading about a series reinterpreting C.S. Lewis’s allegory of Christianity, casting the Christ-character with a female actress—which is causing some Christians to boycott.
In both of these instances there are religious and moral implications, which many of us take very seriously (and we should!). As long as we aren’t harming people with our reactions, it makes sense to be upset.
Who is your favorite Darcy?
Sometimes, though, a film adaptation isn’t moral, but we react like it is. As though there is a right way or wrong way to interpret something that is meant to mean different things to different people.
For instance, the crazy camps that love to hate on each other surrounding either the 1995 or the 2005 productions of Pride and Predjudice. Which production is more accurate? The 1995 is more in line with the literal word-for-word text and scene adaptations of Jane Austen’s classic novel. Which production captured the beauty and tone? Even I, a staunch 1995 lover, must admit the beauty of the 2005 production, including the musical score, communicated the beauty of the story better. (Ugh, I really hate admitting that. But WHY do I hate admitting that? Because I am so attached to the literal word-for-word adaptation that I feel STRONGLY is more true to the book).
This is why I laugh at myself. I get up in arms not over who is the better Darcy (don’t hate me, they were both amazing) but because Jennifer Ehle’s interpretation of Elizabeth Bennet was exactly what I believe Jane Austen intended.
Jane Austen, who has been gone for several years and may not have cared at all as long as people enjoyed—and learned from (because I do believe she wanted to instruct the upper classes with each book she wrote)—the story of two headstrong people overcoming their own pride and prejudices to find and marry for love.
Conclusion: The (classic) book was better than the movie
Perhaps I feel too strongly? Maybe it’s dramatic that I attached myself to the identity of Elizabeth Bennet (thankfully, not Catherine Earnshaw) and insist that she be interpreted as I believe she behaved, and not any other way. (I will not bore you with my outrage at my favorite heroine, Anne Elliot, and the injustice of never getting a superior film production for her or how incredibly disgusted I am with Netflix’s latest travesty. See? Visceral outrage!)
So, while there are so many things in the world to attach ourselves to, flail our limbs about while espousing strong opinions—this “hot take” is lower stakes, and for me, strangely humorous and therapeutic.
I guess I’m not that different from my infodumping children, because I feel more content and relieved now that I have expressed myself.
In closing…
Social media interactions can be a drag or an encouragement, but if you hang out on Instagram or Facebook, we’d love to know: What film adaptation of a classic got you excited? (And was it a happy dance or a disgruntled spiral?)
Book spotlight: An 1894 copy of The Prisoner of Zenda played a pivotal role in Smidgen Press’s early days. You can read more about our origin story here, and find Zenda on our shop here.
