Lifestyle
What makes a good book-to-film adaptation? We have thoughts (and favorites)
Saoirse Ronan and Timothée Chalamet in 2019’s Little Women, written and directed by Greta Gerwig.
Moviestore Collection Ltd/Alamy
hide caption
toggle caption
Moviestore Collection Ltd/Alamy
“Wuthering Heights” is in theaters, so we’re thinking about the best book to film adaptations of all time.
What’s your favorite movie that started life as a book — and what makes for a great book-to-film adaptation, anyway? Do you want filmmakers to stay as rigorously true to the book as possible? Or are you okay with bold departures, big swings, out-of-left-field choices that evoke the essence of the book, if not every last detail?
“Wuthering Heights,” for example, takes a middle road. Writer/director Emerald Fennell’s film keeps the familiar plot beats firmly in place, and casts actors who embody all the stuff that fans of the book need them to, but steeps them in the delirious hormones of a teenage fever-dream. Thus, Margot Robbie’s Cathy is headstrong, impetuous … and horny, while Jacob Elordi’s Heathcliff is broody, Byronic … and horny. The two spend most of the movie trading lusty looks in the soaking rain as peals of thunder roll over the moors. Every set, every costume is styled to the gods. It’s a breathlessly over-the-top take that’s divided critics and is about to do the same for audiences this weekend.
We’ve got four examples of other beloved books that made the transition to the big screen. Here’s why we think each of them works, and why we believe they’re the best of all time.
Little Women (2019)
YouTube
This movie version of Louisa May Alcott’s 1868 story about the March sisters is adapted and directed by Greta Gerwig. Gerwig does the impossible task of contemporizing the story while staying so faithful to the book. She does two things that haven’t worked in any other Little Women adaptations: She makes me tolerate the love story between Laurie and Amy. (I still have PTSD from the 1994 version.) And Gerwig allows for Jo — the protagonist, a liberated author who is writing her own story along the way — to have her cake and eat it too.
In the 19th century approach to this story, the woman has to have a man at the end. That’s just a given for these kinds of books and for these kinds of adaptations. But Gerwig made a decision that the writing of the book is essential to the plot line, and that within the book, Jo’s character ends up with a man — a scholar named Bhaer. But in reality, the book is the man — getting her first book published is the win — and that is her love. It’s so rich and smart. I just love it. — B.A. Parker, host of NPR’s Code Switch podcast
Nickel Boys (2024)
YouTube
Nickel Boys was originally Colson Whitehead’s book about a boy wrongly sent to an abusive boys school in Florida during the Jim Crow era. It becomes a story about his friendship with another boy there. Within five minutes of watching the movie, I was hooked and felt like I was seeing something really new. Not just new in that it was different from the book, which I really respect. But because the whole thing is told from this immersive camera point of view — and because you are in the head, really in the head of the person experiencing it, it is somehow more immersive even than the book. Sometimes, watching narratives that have descriptions of truly awful things — like Boys Don’t Cry and 12 Years a Slave — I find myself covering my eyes. But because of the point of view in Nickel Boys, I couldn’t. It not only showed me what it was, it showed me what it felt.

Director RaMell Ross is saying something about the experience of reading about these two boys being so badly abused in Jim Crow-era Florida. He’s also saying something about the way that we view it. He is saying something about how anyone who wants to see these things on screen should really think about how we have them in our heads, how they are portrayed to us, and how we react to that portrayal. It’s stunning, and I was absolutely jaw dropped about it. — Barrie Hardymon, editor, NPR investigations
Blade Runner (1982)
YouTube
Philip K. Dick’s 1968 novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? became the 1982 film Blade Runner. Both the movie and the book are set in a future where androids are used as slave labor. Six androids escape, and a cop named Rick Deckard — how’s that for a perfect, hard-nosed, noirish name? — has to hunt them down.
Look, there are book people and there are movie people. I’ve visited the Reddit threads; I know that a lot of book people/Philip K. Dick fans hate this movie. But I would argue that the book does what books do well, and the film does what films do well. When you read a book, you live inside it — you’re intellectually and emotionally invested, because you create its world in your mind. And in this book, the author dutifully outfits you with absolutely everything you need to know, and somehow more: You learn about the nuclear war that left big areas of the planet uninhabitable. You learn about this fallout called dust. You learn a lot about how class and status works, and why people are headed to off-world colonies. There is also a tremendous lot about a religion called Mercerism, which is founded on the notion of empathy as the highest human attribute.
The movie carves out the thinnest possible slice of the book — the action, the hunting androids part. And while it pays deference to some of the book’s big ideas, it doesn’t concern itself with all that weighty lore and backstory. It doesn’t need to, that’s not what it’s for. After all, you’re not living in this dystopian future, as you are when you read the book. You’re just visiting it for a couple hours. Androids builds the world, but Blade Runner trots you nimbly through it, doing what films do: Swapping out all those blocks of prose for the fluid visual language of cinematic mood, action and performance. — Glen Weldon, critic and host of NPR’s Pop Culture Happy Hour podcast
Starship Troopers (1997)
YouTube
My pick is a movie in which the director, Paul Verhoeven, straight up hates the source material, detests it and makes fun of it: 1997’s Starship Troopers. The 1959 book by Robert Heinlein is about space cadets and a guy named Johnny Rico going through cadet school and learning the philosophies of being in the military, and why it’s cool to live in a society in which only people who fight in the military can vote. The movie takes that premise and says — this idea: kind of fascist, right? It’s a hilarious parody of Heinlein’s book.
And yet, if you are a mouth breather, not fully understanding how it’s working on a metatextual level, the movie itself kind of rocks as propaganda, as a piece of action filmmaking. It feels like I’m watching Top Gun. Everybody’s extraordinarily good looking. It came out in the late nineties, but I first watched it on TV, and have always thought of it as a post-9/11 movie, in the context of being in school where people were trying to recruit us to join the military. It feels like an extension of Verhoeven’s RoboCop in a lot of ways, how everybody is acting not quite stiff, but extra. Everybody’s got a little asterisks on all of their lines. — Andrew Limbong, culture reporter and host of NPR’s Book of the Day podcast
This piece also appeared in NPR’s Pop Culture Happy Hour newsletter. Sign up for the newsletter so you don’t miss the next one, plus get weekly recommendations about what’s making us happy.
Listen to Pop Culture Happy Hour on Apple Podcasts and Spotify.

Lifestyle
Acclaimed 20th century philosopher Jürgen Habermas dies at 96
Internationally renowned German philosopher Juergen Habermas speaks to journalists in an auditorium of the Philosophical School of Athens in 2013.
Louisa Gouliamaki/AFP via Getty Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Louisa Gouliamaki/AFP via Getty Images
The German philosopher and influential thinker on modernity and democracy Jürgen Habermas died Saturday in Starnberg, Germany at the age of 96.
Habermas’ death was confirmed in a statement on the website of his Berlin-based publisher, Suhrkamp Verlag.
“His work, published by Suhrkamp since the 1960s and translated into more than 40 languages, continues to resonate worldwide,” said the head of the publishing house, Jonathan Landgrebe, in the statement. “We mourn the loss of a significant philosopher, ever-present advisor, and dear friend.”
For more than 60 years, Habermas helped shape the political discourse in Germany, particularly during the postwar and post-reunification eras.
He was perhaps best known for introducing the concept of the “public sphere” – a space for public discourse beyond state control, and therefore essential to a healthy democracy.
“Germany and Europe have lost one of the most significant thinkers of our time,” noted German Chancellor Friedrich Merz.
Habermas shot to prominence in the mid-20th century as a member of the Frankfurt School, which was critical of capitalism, fascism, communism, and orthodox Marxism.
Throughout his career, he stressed the importance of confronting the Nazi era as uniquely criminal, insisting that postwar-German democracy must recognize and reckon with its guilt.
Friedrich Ernst Jürgen Habermas was born in 1929 in Düsseldorf into a middle-class Protestant family. Like many children of his generation, he joined the Hitler Youth as a boy and was drafted into the German military in 1944. He soon became a strong critic of the Nazi regime.
After the war, he studied philosophy, history, psychology, German literature, and economics in Göttingen, Zurich, and Bonn. As a student at Göttingen University, Habermas criticized Martin Heidegger, the greatest living German philosopher of the time, for a remark Heidegger had made nearly two decades earlier and never retracted concerning “the inner truth and greatness of the Nazi movement.”
“Habermas was a modern day Aristotle or Hegel for whom no precinct of culture or science was alien and a gifted polemicist and partisan in the great German political debates of the postwar and post-reunification era,” said Matthew Specter, an intellectual historian at Santa Clara University, in an email to NPR. “He was a philosopher who taught Europeans how to ‘learn from disaster’ by committing to the practice of reason and a radical liberal whose thought remains a resource for resisting illiberalism, nationalism and authoritarian currents worldwide.”
Habermas’s lectures and books were famously dense. He taught at, among other institutions, the Universities of Heidelberg and Frankfurt am Main, as well as the University of California, Berkeley, and was director of the Max Planck Institute for the Study of the Life-Conditions of the Scientific-Technical World in Starnberg.
His “Theory of Communicative Action” published in 1981 is perhaps his best known work and is considered a foundation of 20th-century critical theory.
“Habermas has been able to go into discussions in political theory and sociology and psychology and legal theory and a dozen different disciplines and become one of the dominant voices in each one,” said former Georgetown University president John DeGioia when introducing the influential thinker before a lecture in 2012.
The philosopher won many awards, such as the prestigious Erasmus Prize in 2013, bestowed by the Dutch Praemium Erasmianum Foundation to individuals or institutions for exceptional contributions to European culture, society, and social science.
As lionized as he was, Habermas’s ideas also came under severe scrutiny. Among other issues, he has been criticized over the years for espousing an idealized theory of communication that ignores power imbalances and practical realities.
Habermas never lost his sense of unbridled hope and insistence on democratic ideals. “Democracy depends on the belief of the people that there is some scope left for collectively shaping a challenging future,” he wrote in a 2010 article for The New York Times.
Lifestyle
Remember the art of window displays? This one will keep you lingering in a vibrant L.A. picnic scene
This story is part of Image’s March Outside issue, a celebration of the Los Angeles outdoors and the many lives to be lived under its unencumbered sky.
In a feat of luck that surprises both visitors and me alike, I live in one of those coveted, mysterious and oxymoronic L.A. neighborhoods: a walkable one. Truthfully (I feel almost guilty saying so), it’s more than walkable; my neighborhood is seemingly oriented around pedestrians rather than just accommodating of them. The main street that intercepts the end of my block is tree-lined and buzzing, with generous sidewalks, gleaming (and respected) crosswalks, and wide windowscapes just begging to be strolled and observed. And yet, it’s rare to find a storefront that compels me to pause and look, as so few display anything other than exactly what is on the racks inside.
For her window display at the new Toast store in West Hollywood, artist Kyna Payawal wanted to entice pedestrians to stay and linger. Her installation evokes what is perhaps the quintessential Angeleno celebration of spring: a shared picnic. Colorful ceramic fruits, vegetables and flowers mingle on a table covered with myriad serving vessels, all handbuilt in Payawal’s studio, which looks out into her abundant kitchen garden. There are odes to farmers market beans, Payawal’s favorite spring vegetable (the pea), and the woven baskets of her Filipino homeland. And of course there is a piñata, in the shape of a sun and studded with local dried pinto beans, to represent the most joyful of picnic activities. The name of Toast’s new collection, “A Shared Table,” was the catalyst behind Payawal’s picnic, and she was inspired by the brand’s indigo and tomato colorways and their relaxed, organic silhouettes. The tablescape is also a quintessential expression of Padma, Payawal’s art practice, which focuses on nourishing conversations and community through food, ceramic and textile craft collaborations.
With the rapturous cacophony this scene brings to mind, it is surprising to learn that Payawal created all of her pieces in silence. Listening to music rushes her work because she is tempted to sculpt or sew or cook to the beat. Instead, she tunes into the work itself. “There’s a real slowness in food and ceramics,” she says. The time it takes for food to grow and clay to dry requires that Payawal pay attention to her craft. “The attention then becomes this form of care and devotion for the work itself, for the land, and then for the people who touch it.” It is the gift of this slowness and attention that she wishes to impart to anyone who passes by the Toast window and accepts her invitation to share a picnic blanket.
I grew up in the Philippines and moved to Los Angeles about 16 years ago. Being Filipina American really shapes my relationship to food and to gathering and care. Growing up in the Philippines, when you enter someone’s home, their first question is, “kumain ka na ba?” Have you eaten? That’s just core to my existence and my DNA. Sharing and offering food has always been that love language that stayed with me. I went to the market daily with our yaya, and we would make fresh, home-cooked meals every single day. And I grew up in a large extended family, eating kamayan feasts together with our hands. We’d often visit our family farm, where my extended family raised pigs, ducks, chickens and whatnot. Experiencing that life cycle of knowing where my food comes from and watching my uncles do the butchering and then eating it the same day through slow roasting was really impactful for me as a kid.
When I got to L.A., I discovered the rich diversity in cuisines and cultures — Mexican, Latino, Persian, Armenian, Korean. I also started cooking for myself and was lucky to be surrounded by a big group of friends who cooked meals together. That was really formative and evolved my world. And the farmers markets here are crazy! We’re so blessed to have everything grow in abundance. The seasonal aspect of food was nailed down for me in L.A. Sure, stuff is always available, but when you go to the farmers market weekly, you then get to know, OK, peas are really in season for spring and tomatoes for summer.
I moved to this house during the pandemic, when people picked up their slow hobbies. Mine was gardening and it really stuck. Food is one of the most direct ways we can have an impact on the climate crisis. If we change, on a larger systemic level, the way we grow, distribute and decompose food, then we’ll be in a much better place. Gardening just made sense for me to learn how to grow food and eat it sustainably.
And then, of course, I love serving food and sharing food. I seeded the idea of creating Padma to gather people around to address food insecurity and sustainability. Padma was about bringing these kinds of conversations together in a nourishing space — like over a beautiful meal — to invite care and participation. Now I’m interested in how those same questions of sustainability live in everyday rituals like sharing food, making objects slowly and gathering in ways that restore connection.
Spring is my favorite season. I love it. It’s that season where you’re outdoors and paying attention to the native landscape, to the blooming and the fruiting of everything. You can smell it’s spring. And going out to picnic and just slowing down and getting lost in time with people outside is the best thing. For this Toast display, I was inspired to create a sculptural picnic scene inspired by the outdoor gathering cultures of L.A. and the idea of having a shared blanket. The picnic is one of the most accessible ways we come together across different cultures and share the beauty and magnificence of springtime blooming.
I opted for smaller pieces in the installation. They’re abundant — they fill the scene to get people to pause and pay attention to all the different aspects of the pieces. The colors are inspired by what grows in spring in L.A. The yellows are like the palo verde trees that bloom brightly in the streets. The reds are like the red poppies that wrap around hillsides. The textiles are all dyed with botanical dyes.
The teapot piece has pea tendril decor, which alludes to my favorite spring garden vegetable. The fruit cup and slices are a picnic staple from a Mexican fruit cart. The loquats are from the trees that bloom abundantly right now. The lily is one of the first flowers to bloom in spring. And then there are the vibrant lemons of L.A.
I wove the basket from my neighbor’s tree bark. It alludes to Filipino woven bilao — the big, circular ones with all sorts of fiesta food. I put some scarlet runner beans from the Hollywood Farmers Market over it to symbolize the gathering cultures of Native American tribes. In spring, they celebrate abundance, and my version of the bilao is a kind of offering to that.
The piñata was a collaboration with a family-run piñata house. It’s actually called the Piñata House, and I designed the sun sculpture, and then collaborated with them on making it. I added some beans over it, too. The piñata functions as a focal point into the scene as a whole, and alludes to one of the biggest gathering cultures in L.A., a very joyous scene of celebration. My hope is that it draws people in and invites them to slow down to look at the pieces, and then inspires them to say, “Oh, let’s have a picnic ourselves!”
Lifestyle
‘Wait Wait’ for March 14, 2026: With Not My Job guest John Cusack
Actor John Cusack arrives at the Los Angeles premiere of Relativity Media’s “The Raven” held at the Los Angeles Theatre on April 23, 2012 in Los Angeles, California. (Photo by Frazer Harrison/Getty Images For Relativity Media)
Frazer Harrison/Getty Images
hide caption
toggle caption
Frazer Harrison/Getty Images
This week’s show was recorded in Chicago with host Peter Sagal, guest judge and scorekeeper Alzo Slade, Not My Job guest John Cusack and panelists Rachel Coster, Adam Felber, and Joyelle Nicole Johnson. Click the audio link above to hear the whole show.
Who’s Alzo This Time
Spring Broken; All The President’s Feet; Marty Supreme Jerk?
Panel Questions
In The Hole At Whole Foods
Bluff The Listener
Our panelists tell three stories about something 30 years in the making, only one of which is true.
Not My Job: John Cusack answers our questions about people who should’ve said nothing
Legendary actor John Cusack plays our game called, “Say Nothing”. Three stories about people who should have stayed quiet.
Panel Questions
The Worst Photographers; The Happiest Place on Earth and Your Deepest Secret
Limericks
Alzo Slade reads three news-related limericks: Just Churn It; United Against Noise; H2Occino
Lightning Fill In The Blank
All the news we couldn’t fit anywhere else
Predictions
Our panelists predict what will be the big surprise at this year’s Oscar ceremony.
-
Detroit, MI1 week agoU.S. Postal Service could run out of money within a year
-
Pennsylvania1 week agoPa. man found guilty of raping teen girl who he took to Mexico
-
Oklahoma7 days ago
OSSAA unveils Class 6A-2A basketball state tournament brackets, schedule
-
Michigan6 days agoOperation BBQ Relief helping with Southwest Michigan tornado recovery
-
Southeast5 days ago‘90 Day Fiancé’ alum’s boyfriend on trial for attempted murder over wild ‘Boca Bash’ accusations
-
Health7 days agoAncient herb known as ‘nature’s Valium’ touted for improving sleep and anxiety
-
Nebraska2 days agoWildfire forces immediate evacuation order for Farnam residents
-
Tennessee1 week ago
Lady Vols fall to Alabama in SEC Tournament for seventh loss in row