Before I dive in — this post contains spoilers, but they’re pulled out and there is adequate warning beforehand. You won’t have the story or the point ruined if you don’t want it to be!

I think I’ve talked before about my enjoyment of dark things, and it’s probably pretty obvious given the books that really stand out to me tend to go to very dark places. I don’t tend to shy away from horror nor gruesome things, either in print or on screen.

Back in October, I picked up Susan Hill’s The Woman in Black. The writing in this one was deliciously creepy, haunting, and left me with chills. Hill captured atmosphere well in this novel. Atmosphere for me is sort of a nebulous idea — you can’t define it particularly well, but you know it when you read it — and it’s the atmosphere of Hill’s novel that makes it a book you don’t read in the dark (or you do knowing what the consequences will be). I became increasingly invested in this story the more I got to experience the woman in black; she crept into those places that almost made me a little jumpy.

The Woman in Black is a short book, clocking in at about 150 pages, but the story isn’t necessarily easy nor is it cut and dry. It’s a true thriller in that it leaves you with more questions than answers, and Arthur Kipps, the main character, only furthers the reader in asking questions. He doesn’t know what’s going on, and we, as outsiders, know a little more than he does but we can’t even be sure what we’ve figured out is true or simply buying into what other characters have told us. It’s a book you experience, rather than read.

I bought every word of this story until the very end, where I felt let down and disappointed with the resolution. That’s not to say Hill didn’t nail the ending because she does. It’s unsettling. Scary. But as a demanding reader, as one who’d been along for the ride, I didn’t like it. (For those looking for the spoiler-free version, skip the next paragraph).

When I read this, I saw Arthur as the first truly sympathetic character the woman ever had in her life. He’d spent the time to get to the truth of her story, the truth of why she lost her child. He wanted to put them all to rest in the proper way, and he approached this with a sort of respect no one else would give her. Despite how she treated him, he cared enough to make it right. At the end of the book when things look like they’re all right and like Arthur can resume his life as it had been prior to Eel Marsh House, she strikes again, and it’s not pretty. The conclusion, of course, being that no matter what, the woman was going to continue seeking revenge. It didn’t matter what happened or who tried to set it right. Evil won’t rest.

I felt disappointed because I’d become invested in Arthur. I wouldn’t say the ending ruined the book for me because it didn’t, but it made me think a lot about how that particular plot point could play out on the big screen. I’ve watched a fair number of horror movies, and this particular book struck me as one that might translate scenes like the last one better. Enhance them, even.

This weekend, I went and saw Daniel Radcliffe play the role of Arthur Kipp in Hill’s novel. I wanted to settle this battle with myself.

As a movie, I think this did a pretty good job. I haven’t seen the original film production — something on my to-do list if I can track it down — but I have to say, I was impressed enough. Radcliffe delivered in his role as Kipp, and I thought Eel Marsh House was rendered quite true to the story. This isn’t a gore-filled horror movie, and a lot of what made the audience jump came through what I thought were fairly cheap shots. They were effective, but they didn’t do much for me as a viewer who’d read the book. I think this is the kind of movie perfect for those who want to like scary movies but don’t. It might induce a nightmare or two, but it’s not going to psychologically ruin anyone who sees it.

I found myself paying much more attention to the atmospheric elements I’d been drawn to in the book; I didn’t find them quite there, but they were there enough. Seeing the woman in black was much less eerie than reading about her, and picturing how Eel Marsh House looked in my mind left me with more chills than actually seeing it on screen. Words, I think, are more powerful and frightening for me because they put the story right into my imagination, and I have to pull from my own experiences and ideas to depict these things. That is sometimes where true darkness lies. Having someone else’s image on screen depicting something counter to what I’ve envisioned can sometimes be a let down. So for me, there was much less impact visually than there has been upon reading Hill’s story on paper.

But the real let down for me, and the thing that left me wanting to write about this, was the change in the ending. As before, the next paragraph is spoiler, so skip it if you don’t want to know.

The film’s ending is more abrupt than the book’s. In the book, Arthur gets the opportunity to travel back to London and resume his life pre–Eel Marsh House. Things look like they’re resolved and like peace has been achieved, but then the woman strikes again. In the movie, though, Arthur never gets the chance to go home. Instead, when he gets to the train depot for his trip home, he sees the woman at the station and his son marches toward the oncoming train. Arthur dashes to the train to save his son, and in the process both he and his son die. It’s not entirely different in terms of what the resolution says, of course. The message being that the woman won’t rest. But — and this is a big but — in the film, Arthur is reunited with his deceased wife after the impact. She is, of course, representative of the angelic, of peace, of everything being okay. The ending here is ultimately redemptive. Even though the woman in black gets her revenge, it doesn’t matter because Arthur’s back with his dead wife and with his son. They’re going to a better afterlife. So the woman, as much as she thinks she’s in power here, isn’t in power. Instead, it’s Arthur’s wife.

I left the theater frustrated and maybe even a little bit angry. I wanted the ending to tell me more about what I couldn’t get from the book, but instead, I got something entirely different. Something that felt polished and clean. Of course, it made the story much more appealing to a broad audience. That’s not to say that in and of itself is problematic, but I felt myself thinking about the book.

It’s been months since I read Hill’s book, but I’ve considered rereading it. I think I liked it much more upon seeing how the story played out on screen. I think I’ve bought the ending a lot more, and I think I appreciated it on a whole new level after seeing how it was skewed on film. While these cinematic choices fall upon film makers and producers to tell the story how they see it, it wasn’t the story I read. It wasn’t the story I wanted to see on screen, either. I never expect a perfect adaptation on screen.

Walking away from a sanitized film version made me like the book on a new level — one I didn’t consider beforehand. The appeal on the film is much higher than the book itself, but that almost makes the book more for me. Knowing it doesn’t pull a punch at the end makes me appreciate it that much more. It’s darker, it’s scarier. It’s more haunting. I think it comes back to the fact I rely on my own dark places to put together the meaning, and the places where I can go are much darker, much less settled.

And thinking about it, I love the ending of Hill’s book. It was spot on. It was right. It was atmospheric.

I’m not a big book-to-film watcher, and I think this might be one of the first times I walked away from watching a book put on screen where I felt the book was cheated by the film. Reading is an intensely personal activity, and even if we talk about it, even if we blog and review the things we’ve read, it’s still a personal experience and what you take away from it comes only from what you bring to it (intellectually or through curiosity). Film, on the other hand, is much more about what the producers bring to you. It’s their interpretation of story. And while you can bring your own to it, it’s never quite the same. You’re sharing in a story with other people on many, many levels.

But I’m curious — are there other books-to-film out there you’ve felt this way about? Or if you’ve seen and read The Woman in Black (or only seen or only read), I’d love to hear your thoughts, too.