Editor’s Note: A version of this story also appeared in The Good, the Bad, and the Elegy, a newsletter from the Daily Yonder focused on the best, and worst, in rural media, entertainment, and culture. Every other Thursday, it features reviews, retrospectives, recommendations, and more. You can join the mailing list at the bottom of this article to receive future editions in your inbox.
As 2026 nears its close, I think it’s fair to declare this the year of literary adaptations.
Last Valentine’s Day gave us Emerald Fennell’s flashy “Wuthering Heights.” Summer moviegoing was defined by Christopher Nolan’s interpretation of one of the most famous written works ever (that’s “The Odyssey,” in case you missed it…). Now, fall in full swing, we eagerly await a new “Hunger Games” flick, a “Pride and Prejudice” miniseries, and the finale of the “Dune” franchise.
In reading reviews, talking with friends, and lurking on Letterboxd, I’ve noticed one thing everyone’s particularly interested in, a metric for determining whether each adaptation is really worth watching:
Is it “faithful” to the original?
That question has defined much of the reception of Zoe Kazan’s (“Ruby Sparks,” “The Big Sick”) take on John Steinbeck’s 1952 novel, East of Eden. The seven-part limited series, which stars Florence Pugh, Christopher Abbott, Hoon Lee, and Mike Faist, hit Netflix at the beginning of this month. Ever since, the show’s “faithfulness” has been defended and debated.
Promotional trailer for “East of Eden” (2026). (Credit: Netflix via YouTube)
From a plot perspective, Kazan’s “East of Eden” nails every major beat. The first episode introduces the Trask brothers, idealist Adam and volatile Charles, who are raised in the 1860s on a farm in Connecticut. Over the next six installments, the show tracks Adam’s life: his tumultuous relationship with his wife, Cathy Ames, his move to the agrarian Salinas Valley in California, and his struggles as a businessman and parent. By the series’s end, we’ve reached the era of World War I, where Adam’s sons Cal and Aron are learning to drive a Model T and competing for their dad’s affection.
Whereas other onscreen “East of Eden”s, including Kazan’s grandfather’s 1955 movie, follow only a subset of the Trasks, the 2026 version embraces the multi-generational scope of Steinbeck’s novel. It’s not an easy feat to cover that much history. But thanks to Kazan’s precise and empathetic character development and some spot-on casting (no mid-30s actors playing teens here), the big swing succeeds.
Zoe Kazan’s “East of Eden” (2026) tackles the intergenerational scope of the original novel. (Credit: Netflix via IMDb).
What critics are deeming less than “faithful,” however, is the portrayal of Cathy (played by Florence Pugh), the antagonist of the novel. Steinbeck matter-of-factly describes Cathy as a “monster” born with a “malformed soul,” yet the show is uninterested in flattening her into a femme fatale.
Cathy Ames (Florence Pugh) in “East of Eden” (2026) is more than just a femme fatale. (Credit: Netflix via IMDb)
To be clear, Show Cathy still lies, cheats, steals, and sins like Book Cathy, but Kazan shifts the source material to complicate that assumption of inherent evil. For example, she adds a moving scene in which Cathy comforts a fellow sex worker, revealing a more sympathetic side of the character. And in this “East of Eden,” Cathy herself actually delivers Steinbeck’s famously vilifying lines. The defiance of Pugh’s line reading challenges the audience’s and the author’s narrow view of her.
The series takes similar liberties with Lee, the Chinese-American man employed on the Trask ranch. His storyline in the show is expanded to include what the book glosses over; the penultimate episode sees him attempt to open his own bookstore, reconnect with an estranged father figure, and face racial discrimination in San Francisco. These fuller approaches to Cathy and Lee bring balance to this adaptation, even if a novel purist might disapprove.
Lee (Hoon Lee) is one of the characters Kazan’s script expands in “East of Eden” (2026). (Credit: Netflix via IMDb)
Despite all the energy it pours into its people, there are moments where it feels like “East of Eden” forgets about its place. The rural setting of Salinas Valley reads as its own living, breathing character in the book, which doesn’t quite translate to the screen.
While reading Steinbeck’s East of Eden, you’re frequently swept away from the Trasks into fable-like anecdotes about the colorful residents of the Salinas Valley. Those stories-within-stories range from lighthearted (a schoolteacher with a fear of flying wins a looping ride in an army airplane) to impossibly grim (a lonely rancher is driven to suicide).
The asides are usually tangential to the main plot but crucial to establishing a sense of place. They reveal the growing pains the Valley faces at the turn of the century, as technology and industry creep into everyday life. Beyond just being entertaining, they create a kaleidoscopic, atmospheric sense of rural community.
These moments—and the characters who most often star in them, namely the beloved Hamilton family—don’t make the cut. In the show, we get to know Salinas through gorgeous wide shots of rolling green hills and not much else. At times, it appears as little more than a flat backdrop.
I’ll give “East of Eden” grace on this, knowing time constraints were probably to blame; the series would need to double in length to weave in every single thread. But I do wish the setting were given the same richness and texture afforded by the book, even on the line level. When Book Adam first arrives in California, he’s warned the Valley is “as though some old ghost haunted it out of the dead ocean below” and cautioned against the “secret, hidden sorrow” of the place he hopes to make his home. Show Adam? He’s told there’s “[no] better place for a man to set down roots” and that’s that.
Still, Kazan’s “East of Eden” is undeniably impressive. It has the ambition to tackle the Trask family saga, the creativity to reimagine some of Steinbeck’s most memorable characters for a modern audience, and the heart to capture the emotional core of the novel. I’d say that’s better than just being “faithful.”
“East of Eden” is currently streaming on Netflix.
This article first appeared in The Good, the Bad, and the Elegy, an email newsletter from the Daily Yonder focused on the best, and worst, in rural media, entertainment, and culture. Every other Thursday, it features reviews, recommendations, retrospectives, and more. Join the mailing list today to have future editions delivered straight to your inbox.
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The post ‘East of Eden’ Gets Its People Right, but What About Its Place? appeared first on The Daily Yonder.
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