As we settle into autumn with shorter days and colder weather, I’ve put together a list of my favourite book-to-screen adaptations to enjoy over the coming weeks. While I, like most people, love watching films and TV, I have a soft spot for films inspired by books—whether they're classic novels reimagined for a new generation, investigative non-fiction turned documentary or graphic novels where the art is brought to life on screen.

As a literary agent, I often think about the connection between the publishing industry and the film and TV world. Research by Frontier Economics for the Publishers Association, published in 2018, highlights the enormous contribution publishing makes to the wider creative industries. Compared to original scripts and screenplays, book adaptations attract, on average:

44% more UK film box office revenue (and 53% more globally)
58% higher viewership for high-end TV productions
Nearly three times more ticket sales for theatre productions

And as a reader, it’s not uncommon for me to discover a new, favourite book having seen it first on screen. And I know I’m not alone in this experience among my generation. While I never take on a writer solely for their potential to cross over to film or TV, I believe it's something all writers, regardless of their medium, should pay attention to.

Compiling this list was no easy task as there were so many adaptations I wanted to include. For now, I’ve narrowed it down to five which I find myself frequently recommending to writers:

The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold, adapted for screen by Peter Jackson. I first read The Lovely Bones when I was far too young for it. My older cousin, a voracious reader, was engrossed in the book so I “borrowed” her copy out of curiosity. Susie Salmon's voice has stayed with me ever since and it’s one of the reasons I’m so drawn to voice-driven narratives today. While researching for this post, I was surprised to learn that the film was panned by critics. For me, Saoirse Ronan’s performance perfectly captured Susie’s narration and I felt as terrified watching it as I did reading it.
Call Me By Your Name by André Aciman, adapted for screen by Luca Guadagnino. I watched the film before reading the book and fell so in love with it that I picked up the novel the next day. When Aciman released the sequel, I planned to read it in Rome and to visit the coffee shop frequented by the characters. In Vanity Fair, Aciman discussed how the film's setting differed from that of his book. He expressed disappointment with Guadagnino's choice for the film's ending which diverged from the novel and he couldn’t understand why the film was part-soundtracked by the indie folk singer Sufjan Stevens. Despite his reservations, Aciman did not interfere with Guadagnino’s vision. It is ultimately his respect for the other medium which has been a gift, not only to fellow artists but also to his readers and viewers of the film: ‘When I finally saw the film at the Berlin International Film festival, I was stunned. The ending captured the very spirit of the novel I had written in ways that I could never have imagined or anticipated, and as for the music, it resonated with the love of the two young men, so much so that the final scene with Elio and Sufjan’s song stayed with me long, long after I walked out of the movie theater and, as happens so rarely, into the next morning and the evening after that.’
Patrick Radden Keefe’s Empire of Pain has, sadly, not been adapted into film. But it does contain the story of the artist Nan Goldin and her tireless campaign to reveal the Sackler family’s role in the opioid epidemic. Goldin’s documentary, All the Beauty and the Bloodshed explores her life and advocacy during the HIV/AIDS crisis in the 80s and the current opioid epidemic in the United States. Radden Keefe appears in the documentary just as Goldin features in his book. Both the book and the film demonstrate how storytelling is a powerful tool for tackling difficult, complex subjects especially when the truth has been intentionally manipulated or obscured from public view. This is a book and film in conversation, rather than a straight-forward adaptation.
The Neapolitan Quartet by Elena Ferrante, adapted as My Brilliant Friend by Saverio Costanzo. I’m not usually precious about preserving books in their original medium but Ferrante’s quartet was an exception. I had never experienced anything quite like reading those novels for the first time. The thought of seeing them on screen terrified me—what if the adaptation ruined them for me? But when I learned that Ferrante herself was involved, I decided to give the series a try. Any fears I had quickly gave way to excitement as I saw the rivalries and romances of mid-century Naples come to life, this time sharing the experience with my partner and sisters, who hadn’t read the books (though one of my sisters couldn’t wait for season two and immediately picked up The Story of a New Name after season one ended). I can’t help but associate Max Richter’s remixed Vivaldi with the story of Lila and Lenu. Now, as I watch the final season, I feel the same way I did with the books—I don’t want it to end!
Queenie by Candice Carty-Williams, adapted by Joelle Mae David and Makalla McPherson, had a different impact on me than I expected. When I read the novel I was around the same age as the protagonist but I struggled to connect with her behaviour which made it hard for me to relate to the book in the way so many of my friends and colleagues did. However, when I watched the series a few months ago, I found myself understanding Queenie, enjoying the company of her family and friends and loving the way London was portrayed on screen. It gave me a newfound appreciation for how the novel captured the nuanced experience of being a young Black woman and how sometimes it takes literally seeing a character to appreciate a writer’s vision.

Salma Begum writes: 5 Successful Book to Screen Adaptations