Who has never watched a particularly delightful piece of cinema and mourned the short end of it? I, myself, many times wondered how I could spend even more time with the characters of my favourite movie of all times, The Dead Poets Society, and had the best surprise ever when found out a book was written to complement the beautiful story.
Nevertheless, most times in the cinematic world, movies are inspired by literature, colliding the cinematic and literary world in a beautiful result. But which book adaptations are so incredible that will make you feel the urge to read the book that inspired it?
Pride and Prejudice, 2005
It is no surprise for any avid reader that this incredible production is the first on this list. Incorporating Jane Austen´s words in such a silky feminine aesthetic was a brilliant persons job.
Pride and Prejudice, written by Jane Austen and published in 1813, is one of the most famous books in the globe. The romanticism mixed with critiques of the high society made this piece a complete delight to anyone who attempted to read it, pleasing different types of classes and genders. The movie, starred by Keira Knightley and Matthew Macfaden, combined with an incredible direction by Joe Wright, presents an almost perfectly faithful narrative in comparison to the original piece, adding some (in my opinion, quite necessary) modern days entertainment. And with this, I most certainly am referring to the beautiful kiss scene.
The story follows the life of Elizabeth Bennet, a young English girl living in the fictional county of Hertfordshire, the second sister of a 5 daughters’ family that lives everyday life in the family´s property. But, in fates play, two new young and wealthy men arrive in her countryside never changing quietness: The lovely Mr Bingley, that rapidly begins to show affection for her older sister Jane, and the insufferable Mr Darcy, an arrogant and unpleasant aristocrat that appears to despise Lizzy for no particular reason.
I am no Jane Austen, but pretending for a second that I am, I would be delighted if I could see my words result so well interpreted right near my eyes.
Little Women, 2019
How would you feel about suddenly being a part of a warm and united family of four sisters? That’s a feeling you can quickly found out when immersing yourself in the story written by Louisa May Alcott in 1868 and brought to the screens by Greta Gerwig in 2019.
In an incredible atmosphere of warm colours, we are presented to the March´s, a family of fours daughters, a kind and intelligent mother and an absent father due to war. Following especially Jo, the second sister and a character that represents the author herself, we are immersed in the feminine experience in the nineteenth century and its limitations.
Each sister has a passion, one is fascinated with writing, the other is in love with acting, the third is hypnotised by the piano and the youngest with painting. Women that experience such passions will, undoubtedly, also experience disappointment when referring to that time, but will always, as portraited by the author, support one another in their losses and victories.
The Virgin Suicides, 1999
There are some stories so hauntingly beautiful that they linger in your mind long after the final scene fades to black. The Virgin Suicides is one of those. Sofia Coppola’s 1999 directorial debut, based on the novel by Jeffrey Eugenides, is an ethereal, dreamlike experience that captures the tragic, delicate beauty of adolescence, obsession, and mystery.
Published in 1993, The Virgin Suicides is one of the most unique and poetically tragic novels ever written. Instead of a traditional narrative, the story is told from the collective perspective of a group of neighbourhood boys who obsessively recount the lives and untimely deaths of the five Lisbon sisters. The prose is lyrical and hypnotic, turning their memories into something almost mythological—less a story and more a fragmented, nostalgic attempt to grasp the ungraspable. Eugenides’ writing is dripping with longing, loss, and a desperate need to understand what can never truly be understood.
Coppola’s adaptation is nothing short of mesmerizing. From the very first scene, it becomes clear that she has perfectly captured the novel’s hazy, melancholic atmosphere. The soft, pastel-coloured cinematography, the golden-hour lighting, and the ethereal soundtrack by Air all work together to create a sense of nostalgia so thick it feels like a dream slipping through your fingers. It’s not just a film you watch—it’s a film you feel.
At the heart of the story are the Lisbon sisters: Cecilia, Lux, Bonnie, Mary, and Therese. Living under the suffocating rule of their overprotective, religious parents, they become objects of fascination for the neighbourhood boys, who watch them from afar, collecting artifacts of their existence—diary pages, photographs, scraps of fabric—like amateur historians piecing together a tragic mystery. Kirsten Dunst’s portrayal of Lux Lisbon is particularly unforgettable; she perfectly embodies the reckless, yet deeply vulnerable nature of a girl caught between the intoxicating freedom of youth and the crushing weight of expectation.
Yet, while the film is a near-perfect adaptation in terms of mood and aesthetic, there is something about Eugenides’ prose that is impossible to replicate. His writing has a way of making even the most mundane details feel significant, turning faded memories into something sacred. The book allows for a deeper exploration of the boys’ obsessive recollection, their attempts to decode the girls’ inner worlds, and the overwhelming sense of loss that lingers long after the Lisbon house goes dark.
Watching it is like stepping into a hazy summer dream, but reading the book is like being completely consumed by it.
The Perks of Being a Wallflower, 2012
It is hard to find a coming-of-age story that captures the essence of teenage loneliness, love, and friendship as well as The Perks of Being a Wallflower. The movie, directed by Stephen Chbosky himself, delivers a deeply moving experience, but there is something about the book that makes it even more special—something that only great writing can achieve.
Originally published in 1999, The Perks of Being a Wallflower is a novel written in epistolary format, meaning the entire story unfolds through letters written by Charlie, our protagonist, to an anonymous reader. This unique approach offers a deeply personal and intimate look into his mind—a perspective that, despite the film’s best efforts, can only be fully understood by reading the book. Chbosky’s writing style is unfiltered, honest, and heartbreakingly poetic, making readers feel as though they are peering into Charlie’s soul.
The story follows Charlie, a quiet, introverted teenager entering high school with a heavy past and a fragile emotional state. When he meets Patrick and Sam, two charismatic seniors who embrace him as their own, his world begins to change. He experiences friendship, love, music, and heartbreak, all while grappling with memories he has long suppressed. Logan Lerman’s portrayal of Charlie is nothing short of mesmerizing, and Emma Watson’s performance as Sam adds another layer of charm to the movie.
Wuthering Heights, 2011
No story has ever been so intensely passionate and devastatingly tragic as Wuthering Heights. I wouldn´t call it a love story, but also couldn’t not refer to this obsessive and soul wrecking story as something other than it. Emily Brontë’s only novel, published in 1847, is an unforgettable tale of love, revenge, and the haunting power of obsession. Many adaptations have tried to capture its essence, but the 2011 film ( my particular favourite in many aspects, but mostly the cast) starring Kaya Scodelario and James Howson offers a particularly atmospheric take on this gothic masterpiece.
The novel tells the story of Catherine and Heathcliff, two souls intertwined in a bond that defies time, class, family, race and even death itself. Brontë’s writing is wild and untamed, just like the moors that serve as the backdrop for her story. Facing this tale is an experience so filled with visceral emotions that you can almost feel the wind and rain battering against your own skin.
This adaptation, directed by Andrea Arnold, takes a bold approach by stripping away the polished elegance often found in period dramas and instead embracing the raw, almost primal nature of Brontë’s writing. The cinematography, drenched in wind, rain, and muddy landscapes, mirrors the emotional storm raging within the complex and disturbed characters. The film is beautiful in a bleak, almost painful way—just like the novel itself.
In a world so filled with pretty images and visual stimulations to tell stories, it may appear easy to forget about the magic a book holds. But, as an obvious defender of literature, I dare to say that the entire cultural world relies on writers words to be spilled in order to present a masterpiece. There is nothing more fear and rewarding than reading those pieces in the way they were presented to the world, by beautiful words and imaginative, but never less real because of it, people.
