Queenie by Candice Carty-Williams made waves when it was released in 2019, exploring the nuanced experience of a Jamaican-British woman navigating life in London. The recent Hulu adaptation gives us an opportunity to examine how stories transform across mediums, especially when the author serves as show runner.
The core story remains consistent in both versions – we follow 25-year-old Queenie Jenkins through a messy breakup with her white boyfriend Tom, as she spirals into a series of harmful sexual encounters while dealing with workplace discrimination and family trauma. What makes this adaptation particularly fascinating is how the changes enhance rather than diminish the original story.
One significant difference comes in how Queenie's relationship with Tom unfolds. The novel begins after their breakup, while the TV series shows us the relationship's dissolution in real-time. This structural change allows viewers to witness the emotional impact of their separation more vividly. When Queenie discovers she had a miscarriage in both versions, the TV adaptation creates a more immediate connection between this traumatic event and the breakdown of her relationship, adding layers to her emotional journey.
The portrayal of Queenie's coping mechanisms differs subtly between versions. While both show her engaging in self-destructive sexual behavior, the TV series takes more time to show her attempting alternative coping strategies first. This progression feels more natural and helps viewers understand her descent isn't immediate but gradual, making her character more three-dimensional.
Perhaps the most meaningful divergence comes in the story's resolution. The book concludes with Queenie single but surrounded by her support system, emphasizing her journey to self-reliance. The TV series pairs her with a new, more compatible partner while focusing on her healing relationship with her mother. Additionally, the book has Queenie return to her newspaper job in a better position, while the TV Queenie quits to forge her own path in journalism. Both endings offer different yet equally empowering visions of what healing can look like.
The way Queenie processes her childhood trauma also varies between versions. The novel presents a somewhat accelerated path to forgiveness with her mother, while the series takes a more measured approach. For many viewers and readers, the TV treatment feels more authentic to the gravity of maternal abandonment, showing that forgiveness is complex and takes genuine time and effort.
What makes this adaptation so successful is Carty-Williams' involvement as show runner. The changes feel purposeful rather than compromised, suggesting these adjustments represent another vision of the same story rather than a dilution. In many ways, the TV series and novel complement each other, offering different perspectives on Queenie's journey that, when taken together, create a more complete picture of this complex character.
Whether you prefer Queenie finding fulfillment in independence or seeing her take a chance on a new, healthier relationship, both versions deliver a powerful message about the importance of self-worth and healing. This adaptation stands as an example of how books and their visual counterparts can exist not in competition, but in conversation.
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