Adaptations from a Fan Perspective
When beloved books are adapted for the screen, fans expect a story that feels faithful. I’ve experienced adaptations that miss the mark with not just the plot, but even the spirit of the characters. For audiences from marginalized communities, this includes seeing themselves reflected in ways that feel genuine rather than as an afterthought. Syeda Kalim, a South Asian woman and avid reader, shared her thoughts on what adaptations get right and what they still get wrong. She’s spent years immersed in stories, especially ones that speak to identity and representation. Her perspective comes not just from what she reads, but from what she sees missing in the stories meant to reflect people like her.
A standout topic in our conversation was Netflix’s XO, Kitty, the spinoff of To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before. The original trilogy, adapted from Jenny Han’s bestselling books, was groundbreaking in its own right for casting an Asian-American lead, Lara Jean, played by Lana Condor. But XO, Kitty, while continuing that representation with Kitty Song Covey at the center, didn’t fully land for Syeda.
Still from XO, Kitty (2023), Photo by Park Young-Sol/Netflix
“In XO Kitty, Kitty is shown bouncing from one love interest to another and having an ambiguous sexuality to thicken the plot and create drama, only to end up with the boy all of the audience expected her to end up with,” Syeda explains. “Her suddenly liking her female friend felt very random, almost forced, and it was at the forefront of every trailer and marketing for the second season of the show.”
What bothered Syeda wasn’t Kitty’s queerness, but it was the way it was handled. When representation is reduced to a twist or used to stir drama without proper development, it feels more like a gimmick than meaningful inclusion. This is a pitfall Syeda sees far too often in adaptations that don’t invest in character depth.
Still from XO, Kitty (2023), Photo by Park Young-Sol/Netflix
“We don’t want ‘flat’ characters whose only defining characteristic is whatever difference they have,” she says. “We want to hear about characters who are amazing artists, or writers—oh, and they happen to be gay.”
This is especially relevant when stories center on women of color, who often bear the burden of being both a narrative device and a stand-in for broader representation. In the case of Kitty, a Korean-American teen living abroad, the importance of her identity is overshadowed by a rushed romantic arc meant to satisfy plot needs rather than character growth.
Still, Syeda believes that authentic storytelling is possible for filmmakers. Her advice is simple:
“Don’t keep stating the obvious. You don’t have to keep mentioning that this person is plus-size or that they are gay. Let the story tell itself.”
That advice resonates deeply in a landscape where inclusion is often marketed before it's meaningfully executed. The answer isn’t more diversity for diversity’s sake, but rather a commitment to multidimensional storytelling where marginalized identities are part of a whole person, not their only trait. In a 2024 article, C&I Studios discusses the importance of incorporating audience feedback into content creation.
“Your audience is the driving force behind your content. By listening to them and adapting accordingly, you not only maintain relevance but build lasting loyalty,” Sophie Jarvis writes.
Syeda’s observations reflect this need. Young audiences, especially women of color, are asking for stories that feel real. Plots where individualism isn’t a gimmick, but part of a thoughtfully developed narrative.
As the film industry continues to adapt popular books, it's clear that representation alone isn’t enough. It’s about how those stories are told, who gets to tell them, and whether the final product reflects lived experiences, not just marketing goals. Syeda, like many audience members, offers valuable insight that reflects the perspectives of viewers who are often underserved or misrepresented. Listening to voices like hers is a necessary step in creating adaptations that resonate with people. In a world where screen time can either reinforce stereotypes or challenge them, taking audience feedback seriously can lead to more impactful storytelling. When representation is done well, it’s not just visible, it’s unforgettable.
What do you think recent adaptations have gotten right? Have you ever watched a film and felt truly seen? Is there any film in which you felt something important was left out or misrepresented?
