Outlander and Adaptating Books

Outlander Recap: Learning to Put the “Apt” in Adaptation*

By Roxane Gay, Wired, 06.06.16

* Extracts ; NO SPOILERS

TOWARD THE END of Saturday’s episode of Outlander, “Je Suis Prest,” Claire finally opens up to Jamie about why she has been in a traumatized fugue state for days on end. As rebellion looms, Claire is reminded of her own experience of war, when she served as a nurse during World War II. Jamie—as always, Prince Charming in a kilt—offers for Claire to return home to Lallybroch, but she refuses, saying she doesn’t want to wait, helplessly, “powerless to move, like a dragonfly in amber.”

That phrase—”dragonfly in amber”—is, of course, the title of Diana Gabaldon’s second novel in the Outlander series upon which the television series is based. The line serves as a reminder that, yes, these were books first.

But it also indirectly raises a different question: Does that matter?

Adaptation is always a tricky thing. Given the source material, there is a built-in fan base—a passionate throng of readers who get to see their beloved novels brought to life on the small screen. That throng, however, is not the show’s only audience. The television series also needs to be able to stand on its own for those people (myself included) who are watching the show without having read the books.

It has been striking, over the past two seasons, to see how many people justify some of Outlander’s choices by saying, “It’s the book,” with a kind of reverence usually held for biblical texts. The book is certainly the source material and should be respected, but attributing the television show’s choices to “the book,” as if that somehow adequately answers a question, is silly. And for those of us trying to make sense of the show on its own, it’s also frustrating. After all, maybe the choices we complain about in the show are also worth complaining about in the book. Source material is not infallible—just as our parents are human, flawed creatures.

Now, I do plan on getting into the books at some point. I tried once but couldn’t get past the first few chapters. The writing was too overwrought—which is, I know, part of the appeal; to each her own. I suspect I’ll try again, though, mostly because I want to then re-watch the TV series to see how it holds up. The adaptation is, I am to understand, very faithful, in no small part because Gabaldon is directly involved in the show’s production. Any writer in her position would be protective of her vision.

Believe it or not, recapping is not my main gig. I too am a writer and as such have empathy for the complications of adaptation. The show’s creators have to try and meet readers’ (often lofty) expectations—making sure to include the most beloved scenes, ensuring the characters that were so vibrant on the page are equally vibrant on the screen, staying true to the various plot twists and turns. At the same time, the show needs to be just as coherent for viewers who are watching the show without the same context fans of the book have.

No matter how good an adaptation is, no one will ever be completely satisfied. Readers will often disagree with certain adaptive choices while those who come to the show without the background provided by the books might be bewildered by the complex spectacle they fall into. In Outlander, so much happens in any given episode that it’s clear that the show’s writers are trying to pack as much of the books as they can into one-hour episodes.

The challenges of adaptation have been on my mind not only because I recap Outlander, but because I am about to co-adapt my novel, An Untamed State, into a screenplay for Fox Searchlight. I am thinking about the choices and compromises I need to make for a 100,000-word novel to work as a two-hour movie. I need to relinquish the complete control I had over the book to a director, producers, the cast—and, eventually, the audience. What I find sacred in the book may not be seen as sacred by these other stakeholders. What I hold sacred may not work for the screen. I’ve also been wondering about what Gabaldon holds sacred as the TV series continues to unfold. I’ve wondered how, if at all, she has compromised in adapting her work.

The one thing I hold sacred in my own process is the love story between Miri and Michael, the couple at the center of An Untamed State. I’m inordinately fond of their romance and want to be sure that it comes across, not only because I had fun writing their love story but because their romance tempers the darker themes the book explores. On the other hand, one of the biggest challenges I’m going to face will be how to communicate the violence (it’s a novel about a brutal kidnapping) in a way that doesn’t traumatize the viewer while honoring what Miri endures. (Outlander, in my view, has been more successful at capturing romance than in negotiating the perils of on-screen violence.)

Because movies have a much wider audience, I do not expect that most people who see the movie will have read the novel. (That’s at least partially because I know my book’s sales figures.) I hope my adaptation will stand on its own and, maybe, inspire people who enjoyed the movie to seek out the book. And by that measure, the Outlander adaptation is working quite well. I am far more interested in reading the books now that I am a season and a half into the adventures of Jamie and Claire Fraser.

(...)

Clearly, the process of adapting fiction for the screen, small or big, is fraught. There are many masters to please. I am left wondering if there is such a thing as being too faithful to the source material. Because the Outlander TV series so diligently follows the book, it often feels like an intimate conversation to which much of the audience is not privy. It leaves a lot of us enjoying what we see but feeling, somehow, left out. As I embark on my own adaptation project, I hope no one feels left out—while realizing, even this early on, that inevitably, someone will.