Heated Rivalry, The Handmaid’s Tale and Percy Jackson and the Olympians: What do they all have in common? Beyond being on my February break watch-list, they are all beloved television adaptations of books.
Adaptation is not as simple as handing actors the source material and shoving a camera in their face as they read directly from the page (and if that’s what you’re after, then I have great news for you: audiobooks!). Successful adaptations take creative liberties so that a show can stand on its own and appeal to an audience far larger than the original fanbase. And for the most part, this works; ask around, chances are one of your friends is about to rewatch Heated Rivalry for the third time this weekend and yet has never touched the book series it came from. While you would assume that original fanbases of these adaptations are more than happy to see their favorite stories brought to life, step into any fandom space and you’ll encounter a very specific species of fan: the book purist. They arrive angry, armed with battered annotated paperbacks and deeply convinced that any deviation from the text is a personal middle finger to the author.
I was reminded of this recently while scrolling Tumblr in search of my guilty pleasure, Percy Jackson and the Olympians season two fan art, only to find my feed flooded with posts declaring that Rick Riordan and Disney have ‘ruined’ the series. My eyes genuinely started to twitch. Here's the thing: I love the Percy Jackson books. Like any fantasy-obsessed, self-proclaimed loser, I spent most of my middle school lunches taking “Who Is Your Godly Parent?” quizzes and reading Wattpad self-insert fanfiction. For those who grew up with monitored internet access as a kid, Percy Jackson follows a 12-year-old boy with ADHD and dyslexia as he discovers he is the son of Poseidon. Since its debut in 2005, the Percy Jackson franchise has spawned multiple sequels, a Broadway musical, two laughably bad movie adaptations and now a Disney+ television series (We did it, Joe!).
What’s notable is that this is the first time the original five-book series may be fully adapted onto the big screen. But rather than celebrating that achievement, fandom discourse is dominated by complaints that the show is an unfaithful adaptation, with some going so far as to call it bad fanfiction. I'll admit, I was so excited to see the books I read at nine years old come to life that I was willing to overlook the absence of Background Character #2 from Chapter One. However, it’s because I can also acknowledge a truth book purists seem incapable of grasping: books and television are fundamentally different media.
The original Percy Jackson novels are written in first person: Percy’s sarcasm and ADHD-fueled inner monologue are the story. However, on screen, unless you want a relentless voiceover, all of that internal monologue has to be translated through pacing, blocking, editing and yes, the much-hated exposition scene for viewers. As a result, scenes must be rearranged or entirely cut from the show, but this allows us to see the story from other characters’ perspectives, expanding the world in ways the books simply couldn’t. Pacing is another unavoidable difference; books move at the reader’s speed — you can reread a line, skim or sit with a clue for as long as you want. In contrast, shows move on whether you’re ready or not. And in the age of eight-episode seasons, adaptations must prioritize which scenes are essential to the story and characters.
Then there’s the elephant in the room: Much of the early book purism surrounding Percy Jackson was simply fueled by racism. When Leah Sava Jeffries, a young Black actress, was cast as Annabeth Chase, suddenly ‘faithfulness to the text’ became a priority. While book purists quickly got over the fact that Walker Scobell doesn’t perfectly match the book’s description of Percy, they were firm in the idea that Annabeth’s on-page blonde hair and blue eyes were plot-essential, with some going as far to argue that casting Jeffries ‘took away’ representation for smart blonde girls, a claim that I find laughably absurd (Legally Blonde would like a word). For many in online fandom spaces, book purism became a shield for hiding their discomfort with seeing a Black girl portray the smartest character and primary love interest in the series.
A hyper-faithful adaptation is not a good one. If nothing changes, if there’s no room for surprise or growth, then frankly, there is no reason for the adaptation to exist in the first place. A good adaptation can stand on its own, and the best adaptations make you remember what it felt like to fall in love with the story the first time around. I loved Percy Jackson as a kid, and I got to fall in love with it all over again a decade later. It helps that Rick Riordan himself is deeply involved in the show, a rarity for book adaptations. He knows these characters better than anyone, but he’s also not the same writer he was 20 years ago. Regardless, the essence remains: Percy’s loyalty, Annabeth’s wisdom and Grover’s resilience.
Is the show perfect? Of course not. The CGI is questionable at times, especially given the series's alleged $15-million-an-episode budget, the costuming can feel underwhelming and some dialogue exchanges are undeniably cheesy (though, to be fair, this is Disney). However, these are critiques of the execution, not the adaptation’s faithfulness. But book purists aren’t interested in that conversation. Instead they’re mad the show isn’t a carbon copy of a book they memorized at 12. If that description sounds like you, then I plead with you: If you don’t like the show, don’t watch it. And if you still truly want the story exactly as written? Go reread the damn book.
'Hater Friday' runs on Fridays and centers around critiquing media or culture.
Leslie Monter-Casio is a sophomore in the Jeb E. Brooks School of Public Policy. They can be reached at lm953@cornell.edu.
