On Translation
from the other side of the screen
Editorial Column by Alexa Manning – March 2026
I view adaptation as a form of translation—rather than a translation between languages, adaptations translate art between mediums. It is never perfect but, just like translating language, adaptation can be successful in conveying the essence of a piece in every form.
A dance based on a painting may excite the same person in similar ways through a completely different set of tools. Similarly, translating books to screen is an art form in its own right. Words on a page that stimulate the imagination will tickle different parts of the soul than a projection of imagery complete with dialogue and music.
This Winter has been bursting with adaptation; from Heated Rivalry and Percy Jackson and the Olympians (Season 2) to “Wuthering Heights” (2026), there has been no shortage of book-to-screen translations.
Heated Rivalry, being the best example, has created a beautiful sense of community at a time where it feels like there is no common ground to be had. Beneath the TikTok edits being shown in clubs worldwide, HR is successful because it allows its essence to shine through. A horrifically written book has been re-molded into a TV show that is addictive and exciting, yes, but more importantly, a cultural phenomenon ripe with meaning (that is only more impactful since the USA Men's hockey team post-Olympic Games celebrations).
Percy Jackson 2, however, has the opposite problem. A book series that shaped a generation is pinching and squeezing itself to remain relevant. Consequently, the most important aspects of the book series are getting chopped. What was once a thrilling read has, on the screen, become a stale imitation that crumbles under a strong breeze.
“Wuthering Heights” is perhaps the most unsuccessful adaptation I have ever had the misfortune of experiencing. This is not because it isn’t a word-for-word replica of the original. This is because the film wholly rejects its source material in favor of vacuous aestheticism that celebrates the submission of women and eroticizes a notoriously evil man.
Emerald Fennell has—in my humble opinion—bastardized a monumental piece of literary history in favor of a “romance” that isn’t even convincing. Race, class, obsession, and generational abuse, the lifeblood of the novel, have all been sacrificed for the sake of a bodice-ripper that is shockingly tame after all the hype.
Translation is inherently political—the English and Spanish speaking countries across the Americas are an obvious example of this. Colonization often begins with language, suppressing the tongue that carries culture, tradition, and identity.
As an Oxford-educated, silver-spoon elite, Fennell has shown us all that status doesn’t hold any merit with her block-busting money pit of anti-intellectualism. Her adaptation of “Wuthering Heights” shows exactly how translation can be used for silence.
While we’re at it, let me just say that yes, Emerald Fennell is in the wrong here, but I don’t think Jacob Elordi is getting enough criticism for saying yes to this role. I can’t help but wonder if Fennell getting almost all of the criticism is showing the deep misogyny still rampant today.
Let this be a warning to us all.
