24 Book Adaptations That Are Essential Viewing

There’s nothing better than settling down to a film or TV show which lives up to the book it’s based on – although, what it actually means for it to measure up to the text can vary. Sometimes, this translates to a painstakingly faithful retelling, but, it can also be an adaptation that flips the story on its head, drawing out previously unseen themes and resonances. Either way, it always makes you appreciate both the novel and its big- or small-screen rendering that much more. So, as we enter cosy season, here are 24 releases – plus their corresponding books – to devour now.

Little Women (2019)

Many people have a soft spot for Gillian Armstrong’s 1994 movie with Winona Ryder, Claire Danes, Kirsten Dunst and Christian Bale, but I would argue passionately that Greta Gerwig’s fleet-footed, time-jumping reimagining is the superior adaptation of Louisa May Alcott’s coming-of-age saga. It has Saoirse Ronan as a spirited Jo March, Florence Pugh as a hard-nosed Amy, Timothée Chalamet as a tousled-haired Laurie, and a fresh structure which moves the story away from its wholesome, Christmassy image and towards something far more interesting: a meditation on wildly ambitious 19th-century women balancing the demands of art and commerce. Those threads were already in the original text, but in drawing them out fully, the filmmaker transforms this classic into something which feels startlingly resonant and contemporary.

The Underground Railroad (2021)

One of the best books of the 21st century – Colson Whitehead’s magical realism-tinged account of Cora, a runaway slave who journeys through a terrifying 19th-century America – was transformed into one of the best (and most criminally under-seen) TV shows of all time by Oscar winner Barry Jenkins. Led by the captivating Thuso Mbedu, with a rabid Joel Edgerton as the slave catcher on her tail, it’s a sweeping epic which is as harrowing as it is ultimately life-affirming.

My Brilliant Friend (2018-2024)

Elena Ferrante’s Neapolitan quartet – My Brilliant Friend, The Story of a New Name, Those Who Leave and Those Who Stay and The Story of the Lost Child – is a book series everyone should read: a painfully intimate exploration of the lifelong friendship between two women, Lenù and Lila, in 1950s Italy. Given its cult status, a screen adaptation felt dangerous – but, as envisioned by Saverio Costanzo, performed in the original Italian by Gaia Girace and Margherita Mazzucco (with other actors as their older and younger iterations), and with meticulously-designed period detailing, it’s a verified knockout. Four full seasons gives the story room to breathe, while not boiling it down to an English-language version gives it an air of authenticity which remains rare in the contemporary TV landscape.

Normal People (2020)

Few cultural moments united us during the pandemic like Catherine Magee’s take on Sally Rooney’s most beloved novel. Penned by the author herself, alongside Alice Birch and Mark O’Rowe, and directed by Lenny Abrahamson and Hettie Macdonald, it made gigantic stars of two then-unknowns, Paul Mescal and Daisy Edgar-Jones; made intimacy directors de rigueur on sets around the world; and brought us a will-they-won’t-they love story for the ages. Sublime.

East of Eden (2026)

Following in the footsteps of her grandfather, Elia Kazan, who took John Steinbeck’s decades-spanning family drama to the big screen in 1955 with leading man James Dean, Zoe Kazan has expanded the tale into a lush, seven-episode Netflix series, with a renewed focus on the fascinating anti-hero Cathy Ames. As embodied by a ferocious Florence Pugh, set against a vast Californian wilderness and simmering with barely suppressed rage, this is TV at its most cinematic.

The Age of Innocence (1993)

It’s an unexpected pairing, and all the better for it: Martin Scorsese, long the documenter of mobsters and dejected loners, telling a very different kind of New York story in adapting Edith Wharton’s ravishing account of a forbidden romance in 1870s Manhattan. Every single shot is like a painting, and Daniel Day-Lewis, Michelle Pfeiffer and Winona Ryder are all extraordinary. What more could you possibly want?

Pride & Prejudice (2005)

Yes, the 1995 BBC version with Colin Firth is excellent, but I (perhaps controversially) think Joe Wright’s sun-kissed, melodic, big-screen retelling of Jane Austen’s seminal classic is even better. I’m sorry, but, with a snarky Keira Knightley as Lizzy, a pre-Succession Matthew Macfadyen as Darcy, Rosamund Pike as a luminous Jane, and Judi Dench as the imperious Lady Catherine de Bourgh, to say nothing of the impeccable costumes and glorious landscapes, it shouldn’t even be a discussion.

Wuthering Heights (2011)

Emerald Fennell’s recent madcap take on Emily Brontë’s operatic tragedy was fun, but if you’re after a more grounded interpretation, allow me to recommend Andrea Arnold’s blustery, acutely-observed vision of Cathy and Heathcliff’s doomed love. It’s the first adaptation to cast Black actors as the Byronic hero – James Howson and Solomon Glave as his older and younger iterations, opposite Kaya Scodelario and Shannon Beer’s Cathy – and captures the rain-soaked, muddy bleakness and beauty of the Yorkshire moors in a way that chimes with its source material. This is a strange and twisty book which, with its layers of narration and disturbing coda, feels almost impossible to translate to the screen – but this comes close, at least to echoing its wild, unruly spirit.

Say Nothing (2024)

Patrick Radden Keefe’s sprawling account of The Troubles becomes a gripping miniseries in the hands of Joshua Zetumer – a perfect example of how to take a lauded work of non-fiction and use it as a launchpad for a set of unforgettable, interlinked onscreen stories. Lola Petticrew, in a star-making turn, is Dolours Price, a teenage IRA recruit on the frontlines of the fight for Irish independence and unification, alongside Anthony Boyle as fellow revolutionary Brendan Hughes, and Josh Finan as the politically-minded Gerry Adams. A riotously entertaining ride which also confronts us with big, important questions about the recent past, present and future.

Sharp Objects (2018)

Another oddly under-appreciated gem. Gone Girl author Gillian Flynn’s other major hit was this Southern Gothic chiller about a big city journalist who returns to her intensely creepy Missouri hometown to investigate the brutal murders of a string of young girls. It’s a breathless read, but this masterful eight-episode rendering by Marti Noxon is every bit as engrossing. Amy Adams is mesmeric as our troubled heroine, with Patricia Clarkson as her overbearing mother and Eliza Scanlen as her mysterious half-sister, and the hallucinatory cinematography and imposing Victorian mansion in which much of this story unfolds provide an abundance of atmosphere.

Shōgun (2024-present)

A bestselling work of historical fiction, James Clavell’s expansive portrait of warring clans in 16th- and 17th-century feudal Japan was already made into a TV show in 1980, but Rachel Kondo and Justin Marks’s latest reimagining takes this epic saga to a whole new level – jaw-dropping sets, intricate costumes, stunning scenery and barnstorming performances from Anna Sawai, Hiroyuki Sanada, Tadanobu Asano and Cosmo Jarvis. It resulted in a staggering 18 Emmys and the unexpected commissioning of a second and third season.

Heated Rivalry (2025-present)

Bringing Rachel Reid’s irresistible hockey romance to the screen was always a no-brainer – but, who knew they’d do it this well? Jacob Tierney’s obsessively rewatched six-episode phenomenon, starring overnight sensations Hudson Williams and Connor Storrie, was seismic to say the least. Season two can’t come soon enough.

Pachinko (2022-2024)

A lavish period piece birthed from Min Jin Lee’s extraordinary novel – the multi-generational tale of a Korean family, which takes us from the 19th century to the late 1980s – Soo Hugh’s two-season retelling has it all: detailed world-building, historical heft and moving performances from a cast which includes Oscar winner Youn Yuh-jung.

Rebecca (1940)

On a list of mostly modern adaptations, an exception must be made for this Hitchcockian thriller – one of the best films of all time which unpacks one of the best novels ever written: Daphne du Maurier’s spine-chiller about a naive young woman who marries a wealthy widower and moves with him to his grand, windswept Cornish estate only to find herself in the shadow of his glamorous first wife, the titular Rebecca. As a result of Hollywood’s strict onscreen morality codes, some of the book’s sharper edges had to be sanded down for the film but, still, it’s a work of immense visual beauty and emotional weight. Joan Fontaine is wonderful as our delicate heroine, Laurence Olivier slippery as her husband, Judith Anderson utterly terrifying as their ice-cold housekeeper, Mrs Danvers, and George Sanders delicious as a gleeful antagonist. Add a hair-raising score, magical camerawork, ratcheting tension, and twists that’ll keep you guessing until the final credits, and you have a genre-defining classic like no other. Oh, and P.S. the 2020 Netflix version was criminal.

Atonement (2007)

Joe Wright’s follow-up to Pride & Prejudice was another sumptuous literary adaptation centred on an impeccably-dressed Keira Knightley: a take on Ian McEwan’s pre- and post-World War II melodrama about a young couple who are brutally torn apart as a result of the careless mistakes of a little girl. It features an unbelievably poised, 13-year-old Saoirse Ronan in one of her earliest onscreen parts (it would bring her an Oscar nomination the following year), and that green slip dress, still one of the most memorable film costumes of all time.

Wolf Hall (2015)

Before she was a steely young Queen Elizabeth II, Claire Foy cut her teeth as a razor-sharp Anne Boleyn opposite Mark Rylance’s Thomas Cromwell and Damian Lewis’s Henry VIII in Peter Straughan and Peter Kosminsky’s plush staging of Hilary Mantel’s towering Tudor-era tome. The extravagant royal residences, bustling ballgowns, sexual tension and palace intrigue… it’s all exactly as we imagined it.

Eileen (2023)

One of my favourite instances of a gross and twisted book being gifted with an equally gross and twisted adaptation, Ottessa Moshfegh (alongside her former partner, Luke Goebel) penned the onscreen version of her hilariously weird debut novel – the story of a bored 1960s secretary who becomes enamoured with an enigmatic new colleague, with perilous consequences. As directed by the always precise William Oldroyd, and brought to life by a mousy Thomasin McKenzie and a peroxide-blonde, unhinged Anne Hathaway, it’s a total riot. If you hated the book, don’t bother – but, if you loved it, you’ll no doubt enjoy this, too.

The Handmaiden (2016)

Transplanting Sarah Waters’s shape-shifting sapphic love story Fingersmith from Victorian England to 20th-century Japanese-occupied Korea was a stroke of genius on the part of Park Chan-wook. As you dive into the auteur’s dazzling retelling – all extravagant costuming, knife-edge suspense, copious, outrageous sex, and stellar lead turns from Kim Min-hee and Kim Tae-ri – you’ll find yourself holding your breath, and making a beeline for the book as soon as the credits roll.

Nickel Boys (2024)

RaMell Ross’s take on Colson Whitehead’s The Nickel Boys – the revered author’s second Pulitzer Prize-winning novel after The Underground Railroad – is truly ingenious: a coming-of-age tearjerker following two Black boys who meet at a Florida reform school in the ’60s, which is filmed entirely from a first-person point of view. This gives the story a remarkable intimacy and poignancy, putting us fully in our protagonists’ shoes (as embodied by Ethan Herisse and Brandon Wilson), while also offering an elegant solution to a devastating final twist which, many assumed, rendered this particular book unadaptable. A real feat of translation from page to screen, which should stand as an example for future generations of writers.

Women Talking (2022)

Sarah Polley transferred Miriam Toews’s heartbreaking novel to the big screen with great care and without denting its complexity – the tale of a colony of Mennonite women who are shocked to discover that the men in their community have been secretly drugging and abusing them. Should they do nothing, should they stay and fight, or should they leave? An astonishing cast – Rooney Mara, Claire Foy, Jessie Buckley, Frances McDormand and Ben Whishaw, among them – draws us through this quagmire, as opinions wildly diverge and no easy answers are offered.

Carol (2015)

The most stylish of Christmas movies, Todd Haynes’s dreamy romance, centred on a 1950s housewife (a magnetic Cate Blanchett) and a young aspiring photographer (a quietly watchful Rooney Mara), is based on Patricia Highsmith’s The Price of Salt – a trailblazing, boundary-pushing sapphic classic, revolutionary when it was published more than seven decades ago for its frank depiction of sex, as well as the fact that her heroines got to have a relatively happy ending. Ideal winter viewing (and reading).

American Fiction (2023)

In the hands of filmmaker Cord Jefferson, Percival Everett’s winking satire about racial pigeonholing in the publishing industry, Erasure, becomes a raucous comedy starring Jeffrey Wright, Tracee Ellis Ross, Issa Rae and Sterling K Brown. Part turbulent family drama, part literary-world romp, it’s a blisteringly funny rollercoaster – though its biting source material is, admittedly, even sharper and funnier.

Rivals (2024-present)

Pour one out for the legend that was Jilly Cooper – the author’s saucy Rutshire Chronicles series of romance novels (Riders, Rivals, Polo et al) set the world alight in the ’80s and ’90s, and are currently experiencing a resurgence thanks to Dominic Treadwell-Collins’s Disney+ adaptation. Crammed with star-crossed lovers (Alex Hassell and Bella Maclean; Danny Dyer and Katherine Parkinson), glossy 1980s fashion, horses and outdoor bonking – hey, we’re in the Cotswolds, after all – it’s the ultimate in sun-soaked escapism.

The Virgin Suicides (1999)

Before she wrote a string of brilliant original screenplays, for the likes of Lost in Translation and Somewhere, Sofia Coppola turned her expert hand to transporting Jeffrey Eugenides’s first novel, a heady coming-of-age tragedy about the five listless Lisbon sisters, to the big screen for her swoon-worthy feature debut. It’s an exquisite combination of subject and filmmaking vision, with the book’s narration and dialogue brought into the adaptation largely intact, forming the basis for a forensic exploration of first love, teenage ennui and enduring sisterly bonds.