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Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome to the New Yorker Festival. I’m Deborah Treisman, Fiction Editor of The New Yorker, and it is my absolute pleasure to introduce a conversation that, while imaginary for this event, feels deeply necessary in our current moment.
Today, we’re gathering—if only in concept—to explore something fundamental to both life and literature: hope. In a world that often feels overwhelmed by despair, uncertainty, and division, the role of fiction in helping us understand, confront, and ultimately rise above these challenges has never been more crucial. Fiction, at its best, invites us into the lives of others, opening up new perspectives and offering us the chance to see beyond our immediate circumstances. It has the power to remind us of our shared humanity, even in the most difficult of times.
The authors joining us in this imaginary conversation are masters at this craft. Each, in their own way, writes stories that delve into the human experience with compassion, insight, and a deep belief in the possibility of change and growth. They have created characters who, like many of us, endure immense challenges but ultimately discover light in the darkest of places. Through their work, they offer not just an escape from the world’s problems, but a pathway to understanding and healing.
In this imagined discussion, we have Danielle Steel, Khaled Hosseini, Alice Walker, Margaret Atwood, and John Green. These writers have shaped modern fiction in profound ways, and their stories reflect the resilience of the human spirit in the face of adversity.
While today’s conversation is fictional, inspired by the incredible depth of these authors' works, the themes we’ll discuss are very real—and necessary for all of us to consider in these challenging times.
Now, let’s step into the realm of hope through storytelling, as we imagine what a conversation between these literary giants might sound like.
Literature in a Divided World: Freedom of Speech vs. Cancel Culture
David Remnick:
"Good afternoon, everyone, and welcome to a very important and timely discussion. We have an extraordinary panel today—some of the most impactful voices in literature. Today’s conversation is centered on the tension between freedom of speech and the cultural phenomenon often referred to as ‘cancel culture.’ This topic touches each of you uniquely, whether through your works or personal experiences. Let’s start with you, J.K. Rowling. You’ve been at the center of this debate in recent years. How has this experience shaped your view on the role of a writer in today’s divided world?"
J.K. Rowling:
"Thank you, David. Yes, it’s been quite an intense experience, to say the least. I believe writers are supposed to challenge the world, to provoke thought, and sometimes that comes at a cost. When I wrote Harry Potter, it was about questioning authority, fighting for justice, and finding your voice. Yet, ironically, in today’s climate, speaking up—especially on divisive issues—can make you a target. It’s made me think more deeply about the responsibility we hold as public figures, but also about the importance of not allowing fear of backlash to silence us."
David Remnick:
"Salman, you’ve faced even more dangerous forms of censorship. After The Satanic Verses, your life changed in a way that few authors ever experience. How do you view this cultural shift, where the risk is not always physical danger but social or professional ostracism?"
Salman Rushdie:
"Yes, I have a... unique perspective, you could say. When I think about the cultural landscape now, I do see parallels, but in a different form. We’ve moved from the fatwas to a more insidious form of silencing—where instead of overt censorship by the state, there’s a mob mentality that can be just as effective at cutting off voices. Yet, the principle remains the same: if we start censoring ideas—whether through threats of violence or the fear of social condemnation—we risk creating a society that is poorer for it. Literature thrives on freedom, and once you stifle that, you diminish the very fabric of our cultural conversations."
David Remnick:
"Margaret, your Handmaid’s Tale has become a powerful cultural symbol, especially in conversations about oppression and control. How do you see the balance between the need for writers to provoke and the responsibility to the audience who feels hurt or attacked?"
Margaret Atwood:
"It's a delicate dance, isn't it? I’ve always felt that the writer’s job is to hold a mirror up to society, sometimes distorting it to make a point, but always reflecting it back. The problem with cancel culture is that it often reduces complex ideas to black-and-white narratives. We’re told there’s only one right way to think, one acceptable opinion to hold, but real life is more nuanced than that. I think about this often—how we need to protect our ability to offend, but also how to handle the consequences with grace, without retreating into the safety of conformity."
David Remnick:
"That’s a profound point. And speaking of nuance, let’s bring Toni Morrison into this. While she is no longer with us, her legacy is deeply intertwined with speaking uncomfortable truths about race and history. Her works, like Beloved, continue to challenge readers today. What lessons can we take from Morrison’s courage to write unapologetically about racial trauma in a society that often tries to silence those uncomfortable truths?"
Margaret Atwood:
"Toni was a master at writing about the raw, painful realities of racism and oppression without ever flinching. She didn’t care if people were uncomfortable—she wanted them to be. In today’s climate, I wonder how much her work would be received differently. We talk about cancel culture, but her work shows us that sometimes the best thing you can do is put the truth on the page, and let people grapple with it, no matter how hard it is. Morrison believed that it was through discomfort that growth happens."
Salman Rushdie:
"Toni’s work forces people to confront their own complicity in systems of oppression. I think that's what great literature does—it reflects the hardest parts of the human condition and doesn’t let you look away. And in a time when so many are afraid of being ‘canceled,’ her bravery remains an example for writers today."
J.K. Rowling:
"And Toni Morrison never seemed afraid to alienate people. That's something we, as writers, should remember—we're not here to comfort everyone all the time. There will always be critics, but writing from a place of authenticity and truth is what will endure long after the social media storms pass."
David Remnick:
"Let’s talk about that endurance. How do each of you navigate the balance between standing firm in your beliefs and acknowledging the voices that might be hurt or offended by your words? How do you approach that?"
J.K. Rowling:
"It’s a constant tension, David. I don’t want to deliberately hurt anyone, but I also can’t allow my writing—or my voice as an individual—to be dictated by fear. If we start writing with the sole purpose of not offending, we’ll lose the richness of what fiction can do—challenge, question, and reflect society back to itself."
Margaret Atwood:
"Yes, and it’s important to note that literature has always been about questioning norms. If we, as writers, stop doing that out of fear of backlash, we risk losing that essential function of the novel. You can be aware of the impact your words might have, but that shouldn’t stop you from writing them."
Salman Rushdie:
"Exactly. Writers are often called to speak truth to power, and sometimes that makes people uncomfortable. But great literature isn’t about making everyone feel good—it’s about making them think."
David Remnick:
"An excellent note to end on. Thank you all for your insights into what is undoubtedly one of the most pressing cultural issues of our time—one that literature will continue to shape for years to come. Thank you, J.K. Rowling, Salman Rushdie, Margaret Atwood, and for the profound legacy of Toni Morrison, which continues to inspire us all."
Writing Trauma and Healing: How Fiction Shapes Our Collective Grief
Terry Gross:
"Hello, everyone. Today, we’ll explore how fiction helps us process trauma and grief, both personally and collectively. These authors have each, in their own ways, tackled the weight of human suffering in their works, offering both a mirror and a path to healing. I’d like to start with you, Khaled. Your novels, particularly The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns, are set against the backdrop of war and immense suffering. How has writing about such trauma influenced your own views on healing and hope?"
Khaled Hosseini:
"Thank you, Terry. Writing about war and trauma, especially in my home country of Afghanistan, has been a way for me to process not just the personal pain I’ve seen but also the collective suffering of a people. What I’ve learned is that storytelling can be an act of healing. For the characters I create, telling their stories is often the first step toward finding some measure of peace. And I think that’s true for readers as well—stories allow them to face the painful realities of their own lives in a safe, distant way. It opens the door to empathy and, ultimately, to healing."
Terry Gross:
"Alice, your work, particularly The Color Purple, has long explored themes of personal and collective trauma, especially within the context of race, gender, and oppression. What role do you think fiction plays in helping both individuals and societies confront these deeply rooted wounds?"
Alice Walker:
"Fiction, to me, is a form of soul work. When we write about trauma, we are tapping into the deepest parts of the human spirit, and we are allowing both the writer and the reader to connect with those wounds in ways that perhaps they hadn’t before. I’ve always believed that storytelling is one of the oldest and most profound forms of healing. In The Color Purple, Celie’s journey is one of reclaiming her voice after years of being silenced by trauma. Through that, she finds healing. It’s my belief that societies, like individuals, must confront their wounds—whether it’s racism, sexism, or violence—if they are ever to heal."
Terry Gross:
"Stephen, you’ve often said that horror is a way of confronting our deepest fears. How do you see your work—especially novels like Pet Sematary or It—as contributing to the conversation around trauma and healing?"
Stephen King:
"Well, Terry, horror is often about facing the things we’d rather avoid. But the truth is, the only way to deal with trauma, fear, and grief is to confront it head-on. Pet Sematary was born out of my own anxieties as a parent—the fear of losing a child, the devastation that follows. I think readers connect with that because it taps into something primal. Fiction, and especially horror, lets us live out these nightmares in a controlled environment. And through that, we can find a kind of catharsis—a release. The monsters in our heads lose some of their power when we name them, when we confront them on the page."
Terry Gross:
"George, in A Song of Ice and Fire, your world is filled with trauma—loss, betrayal, war. Yet, amid all that darkness, there are moments of hope and redemption. How do you balance the brutal realities of human suffering with the possibility of healing in your work?"
George R. R. Martin:
"I think what makes trauma resonate in fiction is that it feels real. Life isn’t all happy endings, as we know, and I try to reflect that in my stories. The characters in A Song of Ice and Fire go through immense suffering—some of them never heal, some find a way to move forward, and some are destroyed by it. I think that mirrors real life. But at the same time, there is always the possibility of hope, of redemption. It’s a faint light, sometimes, but it’s there. That’s why I’m drawn to characters like Jon Snow or Daenerys—people who’ve been through so much but keep fighting for something better, even when it seems impossible. I think that’s the essence of human resilience."
Terry Gross:
"Speaking of resilience, let’s turn to Toni Morrison’s work. Her novels, like Beloved, confront the lasting scars of slavery and generational trauma. Though she is no longer with us, her legacy remains deeply relevant. What lessons can we draw from her portrayal of trauma and healing?"
Alice Walker:
"Toni was a master at understanding trauma as something that echoes through generations. In Beloved, she didn’t just write about the physical scars of slavery—she wrote about the psychic scars, the ones passed down from parent to child, long after the chains are gone. Her work teaches us that trauma is not something we can simply leave behind. We must face it, understand it, and ultimately make peace with it. But she also showed that healing is possible. It’s hard, it’s painful, but it’s possible. And that’s a message that resonates far beyond her time."
Khaled Hosseini:
"I think Toni Morrison’s work is so powerful because she understood that trauma is both personal and collective. Her characters, like Sethe in Beloved, carry the weight of history, but they also carry their own personal griefs. That’s something I try to reflect in my own work. Trauma is never just one thing—it’s layers upon layers. But through storytelling, we can begin to peel those layers back and, hopefully, find some measure of healing."
Terry Gross:
"That’s a beautiful sentiment. Stephen, you’ve written about how horror helps people confront trauma, but there’s also an element of healing through community in your work—like in It, where the ‘Losers’ Club’ finds strength in each other. Could you talk a bit about that?"
Stephen King:
"Yeah, that’s right. In It, the kids face a literal monster, but they’re also confronting the trauma of growing up, of facing their fears. What helps them survive isn’t just their bravery—it’s their friendship, their connection to each other. I think that’s a powerful metaphor for how we deal with trauma in the real world. We don’t do it alone. We need community, we need people who understand us, who can help us through the dark times. That’s where the healing really begins—through connection."
Terry Gross:
"George, you mentioned earlier the importance of resilience in your characters. Do you think that’s what keeps readers coming back to your stories, even when they’re filled with so much pain?"
George R. R. Martin:
"I hope so. Life is hard—especially in Westeros, but also in the real world. And I think readers connect with characters who, despite everything, keep fighting. They may not always succeed, but they don’t give up. That’s what resilience is. And I think, in a way, that’s healing too. It’s not about pretending the trauma never happened, but about finding a way to live with it, to keep moving forward."
Terry Gross:
"That’s a perfect place to end. Thank you all for sharing your insights on how fiction can help us navigate trauma and find healing. It’s clear that through your works, you’ve offered readers not just stories, but paths toward understanding and, ultimately, toward hope."
The Future of Storytelling: Will AI and Technology Destroy or Revive the Novel?
Ezra Klein:
"Good afternoon, everyone. Today, we’re diving into a topic that’s been on a lot of minds lately—how rapidly advancing technologies like AI and interactive media are changing the future of storytelling. Some say this is the death of the novel; others say it’s a renaissance. We’re here with a brilliant group of writers who’ve mastered the art of storytelling across various genres. John Green, you’ve built a massive community around your books, but also online through YouTube and social media. How do you see technology impacting the future of fiction?"
John Green:
"Thanks, Ezra. I think technology has opened up new avenues for storytelling, but it’s also made things more complicated. There’s this tension between traditional forms of storytelling—like novels—and the fragmented way we consume content online now. When I look at platforms like TikTok or YouTube, I see how people crave stories, but the way they engage with them has changed. They want fast, bite-sized content. So, while I don’t think the novel is dead, I do think we have to adapt. That’s one of the reasons I’ve embraced platforms like YouTube—because it allows me to engage readers in ways that go beyond the printed page."
Ezra Klein:
"That’s interesting, John. So, are you saying the novel will coexist with these new forms of media, or do you see the novel evolving into something else?"
John Green:
"I think the novel will evolve, but it won’t disappear. It may be consumed differently—through audiobooks, interactive apps, or serialized formats. What’s exciting, though, is that technology is expanding the ways we can tell stories. We don’t have to rely solely on words on a page anymore. And while that might scare some people, I think it’s a good thing. It’s allowing us to reach new audiences, especially younger readers who might otherwise not pick up a book."
Ezra Klein:
"John Grisham, you’ve had a long career in the world of legal thrillers. What’s your take on this? Do you see technology as a threat to traditional storytelling, or do you see opportunities?"
John Grisham:
"I’m a bit of a traditionalist, to be honest. I’ve always believed in the power of a good story to draw readers in and keep them turning the pages. That said, I can’t ignore what’s happening. Audiobooks, for example, are booming, and I’ve noticed more of my readers are listening to my books than reading them. As for AI or interactive storytelling, I’m not sure how much it’ll impact the kind of writing I do. People come to legal thrillers for a sense of immersion in a plot that unfolds in a structured way. I’m skeptical that AI could replace the emotional nuance and human insight that goes into creating a good novel."
Ezra Klein:
"James, you’ve embraced the world of serialized fiction and collaborations in ways many haven’t. With AI being able to generate coherent text, what role do you think it will play in the future of writing?"
James Patterson:
"I’m not afraid of AI—at least not yet. I think it’s another tool, like word processors or the internet. Can it generate text? Sure. Can it tell a good story? I’m not so sure. Writing isn’t just about putting words together in a way that makes sense—it’s about creating an emotional connection with readers, building tension, pacing, and, most importantly, having something meaningful to say. That’s what AI lacks right now—the human experience. But I do think AI will play a role in helping writers. It might assist with editing, generating ideas, or even creating first drafts. It could free up writers to focus on the more creative aspects of storytelling."
Ezra Klein:
"So, you see AI as more of a collaborative tool rather than a replacement for authors?"
James Patterson:
"Exactly. I don’t think AI will replace authors—at least not the ones who are telling compelling stories that resonate emotionally. But it could become a tool that helps streamline the process. I see it more as a co-pilot, not the pilot."
Ezra Klein:
"Dean, you’ve built entire worlds through your novels, especially in horror and suspense. What’s your perspective on the future of storytelling in the face of these technological shifts?"
Dean Koontz:
"I’m fascinated by technology, but I’m also wary of its potential to homogenize stories. AI can write a story, sure, but can it write a Koontz story? Can it tap into the quirks of human fear, the subtlety of emotion, or the unpredictability of life that makes a novel truly gripping? I doubt it. Technology can enhance storytelling—virtual reality, for example, could make horror more immersive. Imagine reading a horror novel while being virtually placed inside a haunted house—that’s exciting. But I’m with James on this: AI is a tool, not a storyteller. The human touch is irreplaceable."
Ezra Klein:
"R.L. Stine, you’ve captivated generations of young readers with your Goosebumps series. How do you see technology influencing younger audiences? Do you think kids will continue to read books, or will they turn to more interactive, tech-driven experiences?"
R.L. Stine:
"Kids love stories, no matter the format. Whether it’s a physical book, an eBook, or a video game, what they care about is being entertained. I don’t think books are going anywhere. In fact, I think technology has made it easier to reach young readers. When I was writing Goosebumps, there were no eBooks, no apps, no YouTube. Now, kids can read wherever they are—on a phone, on a tablet. That’s a good thing. What worries me is the attention span issue. Will kids be able to sit down with a book for hours when they’re used to consuming quick, flashy content? I hope so, but that’s the challenge we face."
Ezra Klein:
"Do you think authors will need to adapt their writing styles to cater to shorter attention spans?"
R.L. Stine:
"Maybe. I’ve always tried to write short, punchy chapters to keep kids engaged. That might become even more important. But I think the key is finding ways to balance fast-paced content with deeper, more immersive storytelling. Technology can help with that. Interactive storytelling, for instance, could be a way to draw kids in while still delivering a meaningful narrative."
Ezra Klein:
"Let’s dig into that idea of interactivity. With the rise of apps, virtual reality, and even AI-driven narrative games, do you think we’re moving toward a future where the reader becomes part of the story? And if so, how does that impact the traditional role of the author?"
John Green:
"Absolutely, we’re moving toward a more interactive experience. But I don’t think that diminishes the role of the author. In fact, I think it enhances it. If anything, it challenges us to think more creatively about how we tell stories. Readers, especially younger ones, want to feel like they’re part of the narrative, like they have some control. Interactive fiction—whether through choose-your-own-adventure formats, virtual reality, or other mediums—allows for that. But the author is still the one crafting the world, the characters, the emotional stakes. Technology just gives us new ways to engage with readers."
Dean Koontz:
"I agree with John. The author’s role isn’t going away—it’s just evolving. In interactive storytelling, you’re still guiding the reader through a narrative, even if they’re making choices along the way. It’s just another tool in our toolbox."
Ezra Klein:
"Last question, and I’ll open this up to the group: As AI and technology continue to evolve, what advice would you give to aspiring writers who are trying to navigate this new landscape?"
John Grisham:
"Write good stories. No matter what changes, no matter what technology comes along, people will always be drawn to a well-told story. Focus on the craft, and the rest will follow."
James Patterson:
"Adapt, but don’t lose sight of what makes writing special. Technology is a tool, but the heart of storytelling will always be human."
R.L. Stine:
"Don’t be afraid of technology. Use it to your advantage. But remember, kids still want to be scared, entertained, and emotionally engaged. That doesn’t change."
Dean Koontz:
"Stay true to your voice. Technology will change, but what readers want is authenticity—stories that resonate on a human level. Don’t let that get lost."
John Green:
"I’d say embrace the new possibilities. Storytelling is evolving, and that’s exciting. There’s room for innovation, but the core of writing—creating connections with readers—remains the same. Lean into that."
Ezra Klein:
"Thank you all for such a thought-provoking discussion. The future of storytelling is clearly wide open, and it’s inspiring to see how you’re all navigating—and embracing—these changes while staying true to the art of writing."
From Page to Screen: The New Era of Literary Adaptations and Their Cultural Impact
Ann Hornaday:
"Good afternoon, everyone, and thank you for joining us for what promises to be a fascinating discussion on literary adaptations. We’re here with some of the most successful authors in the world, many of whom have seen their works brought to life on the big and small screens. Let’s start with you, George. Game of Thrones became a global phenomenon, arguably one of the most ambitious literary adaptations ever attempted. How did the experience of seeing your books adapted for television change the way you think about storytelling?"
George R. R. Martin:
"Well, Ann, it’s been a wild ride, that’s for sure. When I first wrote A Song of Ice and Fire, I never imagined it would become this global TV juggernaut. But the adaptation process really showed me how different the mediums of books and television are. In a novel, you have the luxury of space—pages and pages to explore inner monologues, world-building, and slow character development. TV, especially at the scale of Game of Thrones, requires a much faster pace, visual storytelling, and sometimes sacrifices depth for spectacle. I loved seeing Westeros come to life, but I also learned that once your story is in someone else’s hands, it takes on a life of its own."
Ann Hornaday:
"That’s interesting, George. You bring up the idea of control, or sometimes the lack thereof. J.K., you had a much more hands-on role with the Harry Potter films. What was that experience like for you, and how did you balance the transition from page to screen?"
J.K. Rowling:
"Yes, I was fortunate to have a significant role in shaping the Harry Potter films. From the beginning, it was important to me that the films stay as true to the spirit of the books as possible, but I also knew that film is a different medium with its own demands. Some things needed to be cut or streamlined, and while that was sometimes painful, I understood it was necessary. What I really appreciated, though, was the dedication of the filmmakers to preserving the essence of the story—the heart of Harry’s journey, the world-building of Hogwarts. It was a collaborative process, and I felt fortunate to work with people who respected the source material so much."
Ann Hornaday:
"Danielle, your books have sold hundreds of millions of copies worldwide, and many of them have been adapted into films and TV movies. What’s your take on how your stories translate from page to screen? Do you feel that the emotional core of your novels remains intact in these adaptations?"
Danielle Steel:
"I think the emotional core is something that can get lost in translation if the adaptation isn't handled with care. My books are often deeply personal, focusing on human relationships and emotions, and those subtleties can sometimes be overshadowed in visual adaptations. The challenge with my stories is that they’re more about internal struggles than external action, and that’s harder to capture on screen. I’ve had both positive and disappointing experiences with adaptations. When it works, it’s because the filmmakers understand that the emotional arcs of the characters are what drive the story. When it doesn’t, it’s usually because they’ve focused too much on the plot and not enough on the characters’ internal journeys."
Ann Hornaday:
"John, your legal thrillers have been a staple in both literature and film for decades, from The Firm to A Time to Kill. How do you feel about your works being adapted? Do you think the courtroom drama translates well to film?"
John Grisham:
"I think courtroom dramas actually lend themselves really well to film. There’s a natural tension and drama in a trial that makes for good cinema—there’s a clear structure, high stakes, and the possibility for explosive revelations. That said, adapting a legal thriller isn’t just about replicating the courtroom scenes. The success of an adaptation depends on capturing the moral and ethical dilemmas at the heart of the story. When that’s done well, the film can elevate the source material. I’ve been pretty lucky with my adaptations, but it’s always a bit nerve-wracking to see how your work will translate."
Ann Hornaday:
"Stephen, you’ve had perhaps more of your work adapted than any author alive, across a wide range of genres—from horror to drama. What’s your perspective on seeing your stories adapted for the screen? Do you think film and TV can capture the psychological depth of your novels?"
Stephen King:
"Well, it’s been a wild ride watching so many of my books go from page to screen, and I’ve seen the full spectrum of adaptations—from the really great to the downright terrible. The thing about my stories is that they’re often very internal—about fear, trauma, and the darkness within people. That’s hard to capture visually. In a novel, you can spend pages getting into a character’s head, but on screen, you have to convey that in a look, a scene, or a piece of dialogue. When it works—like with The Shawshank Redemption or Stand By Me—it’s magical because those films understand that the horror or drama isn’t just in the events but in the characters’ emotional and psychological journeys."
Ann Hornaday:
"That’s a great point. One of the common threads I’m hearing is the challenge of translating the emotional depth and complexity of your characters to the screen. How do you all feel about the current trend of expanding adaptations into long-form TV series? Is that a better way to preserve the nuances of your novels?"
George R. R. Martin:
"Absolutely. I’ve always said that Game of Thrones could never have worked as a series of movies. You need the time to let the story breathe, to explore the characters’ backstories, their motivations. A TV series allows for that in a way that a two-hour movie simply can’t. That said, even with TV, you still have to make sacrifices. But I think it’s a better medium for complex stories that need time to unfold."
J.K. Rowling:
"I agree with George. There’s something about the serial nature of TV that feels closer to the experience of reading a novel. It’s episodic, it builds over time, and it allows for more character development. I’m actually excited about the potential for more of my work, or new stories, being told in that format. There’s more room for nuance, which is often lost in the transition from page to screen in films."
Danielle Steel:
"I think it depends on the story. Some of my novels, because they focus on personal relationships, might benefit from the depth a TV series could provide. But others work better as shorter, more focused adaptations. I do think that the rise of streaming platforms has given writers more opportunities to see their work adapted in ways that weren’t possible before. There’s more creative freedom and less pressure to condense everything into a couple of hours."
John Grisham:
"I’m a fan of the long-form TV model, too. A courtroom drama, for example, could really benefit from multiple episodes to explore not just the legal case but the personal stakes for the characters involved. It’s a bit like the difference between reading a short story and a full novel—you can do more with the extra space."
Stephen King:
"Long-form TV has been great for some of my adaptations. The Stand and 11/22/63 both needed more time than a movie could offer. And let’s not forget It—both the miniseries and the recent two-part film adaptations benefited from having more room to explore the characters and story. With horror, especially, you need time to build suspense and really get into the psyche of the characters. I think we’re going to see more and more authors leaning into TV because of that freedom."
Ann Hornaday:
"Before we wrap up, I’d love to hear your thoughts on the cultural impact of these adaptations. Do you think that the film or TV version of your work ever overshadows the original novel, and if so, how do you feel about that?"
George R. R. Martin:
"With Game of Thrones, that’s definitely been the case for a lot of people. The show reached an audience that the books never would have. And while that’s a good thing in terms of exposure, it’s also a double-edged sword. I’ve had readers come to the books after watching the show and say, ‘This isn’t what I expected,’ because the two mediums, by necessity, had to be different. But I try to look at it as complementary—each version offers something the other doesn’t."
J.K. Rowling:
"I’ve always felt that the books are their own thing, and the films are another form of storytelling. They’re separate but connected. Of course, many people know Harry Potter more from the films, but I don’t see that as a problem. If the films bring people to the books, that’s wonderful. And if people prefer the films, that’s okay too. Each format has its strengths."
Danielle Steel:
"I think my novels have always been seen as standalone works, even after they’ve been adapted. That’s probably because the adaptations are often TV movies, which don’t always have the same cultural impact as big-budget films or long-form series. But I agree with J.K.—if the adaptations bring new readers to my books, then I see that as a win."
Stephen King:
"For me, it depends on the adaptation. Sometimes the films or TV shows take on a life of their own—The Shining being a good example. Stanley Kubrick’s film is very different from my novel, and there are people who love the film and don’t care for the book, or vice versa. But that’s part of the deal. Once you hand your work over to be adapted, it’s no longer just yours. That’s something you have to come to terms with."
Ann Hornaday:
"Thank you all for sharing your thoughts. It’s been a fascinating discussion, and I’m sure our audience will be thinking about these insights the next time they watch an adaptation of their favorite book. The intersection of literature and film is only growing stronger, and it’s exciting to see how storytelling continues to evolve across these mediums."
Writing Hope in an Age of Despair: Uplifting Voices in Modern Fiction
Krista Tippett:
"Welcome, everyone, to what I believe is a deeply timely and necessary conversation. We’re living in an age where despair can feel overwhelming—whether it’s the state of the world, personal struggles, or the collective anxieties we all share. Today, we’re going to talk about how literature can be a force for hope and healing, and how these brilliant authors manage to create stories that inspire resilience and uplift readers. Danielle, you’ve written about love, loss, and resilience throughout your career. How do you find hope in your stories, especially in moments of great personal or societal hardship?"
Danielle Steel:
"Thank you, Krista. I’ve always believed that hope is at the core of every story I tell. Life is hard—there’s no denying that. We all face moments of loss, grief, and despair, and my characters often go through tremendous personal challenges. But I think what keeps people coming back to my books is that no matter how dark things get, there’s always a light at the end. Hope doesn’t mean ignoring pain or difficulty—it means believing that, even in the darkest moments, there’s a possibility for healing, for connection, for love. My stories reflect that belief, and I think readers find comfort in knowing that they’re not alone in their struggles."
Krista Tippett:
"Khaled, your novels, particularly The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns, deal with incredibly heavy themes—war, trauma, and displacement. Yet, there’s always a sense of humanity and hope woven into your stories. How do you balance these two extremes?"
Khaled Hosseini:
"I think it’s precisely because the world is often so difficult that we need to tell stories of hope. My characters live through war, through trauma, through unimaginable pain. But even in those moments of despair, they find small acts of kindness, love, and resilience that carry them through. That’s what gives the story its heartbeat—these moments of human connection. I believe that people are inherently resilient, and even in the face of the greatest suffering, there’s always a capacity for hope. It might not be loud or grand, but it’s there. It’s in the quiet determination to survive, to protect those you love, or to seek a better life, no matter the odds."
Krista Tippett:
"Alice, The Color Purple has long been considered a novel that embodies both pain and profound hope. How do you approach writing about such deep traumas while still offering readers a message of healing and redemption?"
Alice Walker:
"For me, writing about trauma is an act of love. In The Color Purple, Celie’s journey is one of reclaiming her voice, of learning to love herself and others after years of oppression and abuse. And that, I believe, is where hope lives—in the ability to transform pain into something powerful. I’ve always felt that the act of telling one’s story is healing, both for the writer and for the reader. It’s through storytelling that we make sense of our suffering and find ways to move forward. Hope isn’t about pretending everything will be perfect—it’s about recognizing that even in our darkest moments, we have the strength to keep going."
Krista Tippett:
"Margaret, your work often takes a more dystopian turn, especially with novels like The Handmaid’s Tale and Oryx and Crake. Despite the grim worlds you depict, there are always glimmers of hope or resistance. How do you think about hope in the context of such bleak settings?"
Margaret Atwood:
"Hope, to me, is a fundamental human trait—one that persists even when things look darkest. In dystopias, hope often takes the form of resistance. It’s not always about imagining a perfect future, but about refusing to accept an unjust present. In The Handmaid’s Tale, for example, the very act of telling her story is a form of resistance for Offred. Even when everything seems hopeless, there’s a refusal to give up entirely, and that’s what hope is: a refusal. I think dystopian fiction resonates with people because, in real life, we often find ourselves in seemingly impossible situations. These stories remind us that even in the face of overwhelming odds, the human spirit can endure."
Krista Tippett:
"John, your books, particularly The Fault in Our Stars and Looking for Alaska, explore themes of loss and grief, but they also have an undeniable thread of hope, especially for young readers. How do you approach writing about difficult subjects in a way that still uplifts?"
John Green:
"I think young people are often underestimated in their capacity to deal with heavy topics like death, grief, and existential angst. What I’ve found is that they’re not looking for sugar-coated answers—they’re looking for honesty, for a recognition of how hard life can be, but also for the reassurance that life is still worth living. In The Fault in Our Stars, Hazel and Augustus are faced with the harsh reality of their illnesses, but they also find joy, love, and meaning in the time they have. That’s what I try to offer my readers—a sense that even in the midst of tragedy, there’s beauty to be found. Hope doesn’t cancel out grief, but it can coexist with it."
Krista Tippett:
"That’s a beautiful way of putting it, John. We live in a world where many people are struggling with feelings of despair, whether due to personal issues or larger global challenges. How do each of you see the role of fiction in offering hope, not just as an escape, but as a form of real emotional and psychological support?"
Danielle Steel:
"I think fiction gives people a place to process their emotions in a way that feels safe. When you read about characters going through similar struggles, you feel less alone in your own pain. It’s not about offering simple solutions or pretending everything will be okay—it’s about showing that even in the hardest moments, there’s a path forward. Readers often tell me that my books helped them get through difficult times, and that’s the greatest compliment I can receive. Fiction can be a lifeline when the real world feels overwhelming."
Khaled Hosseini:
"I agree with Danielle. Fiction has a unique ability to create empathy and connection. When readers see themselves in characters who are struggling, they’re reminded that their own pain is part of the human experience—that they’re not isolated in their suffering. But more than that, fiction can also offer a vision of resilience. It shows people that healing is possible, that there’s a future beyond the pain. I think that’s why stories matter so much in times of crisis—they help us imagine a better world, even when we’re not sure how to get there."
Alice Walker:
"Stories have always been a form of survival. For me, writing is an act of defiance against despair. When you put your pain into words, you take control of it—you transform it into something that can be understood, something that can be shared. And in that sharing, there’s healing. Fiction allows us to confront our fears, our traumas, and our grief, but it also allows us to envision something better. Hope isn’t passive—it’s active. It’s about believing that change is possible, even if it’s slow or painful. That’s what I hope my readers take away from my work."
Margaret Atwood:
"Yes, hope is very much an action. It’s about resisting the urge to give in to despair, about imagining that things could be different. Fiction plays a crucial role in this because it allows us to explore possibilities. It might not provide easy answers, but it opens up spaces for thought, for reflection, for imagining new ways of being. In that sense, even the most dystopian novels can offer hope—because they remind us that change, while difficult, is always within our grasp."
John Green:
"Exactly. I think hope is about finding meaning in the chaos. Fiction gives us a way to process the messiness of life, and sometimes just knowing that others have gone through similar struggles—and come out the other side—can make all the difference. Stories don’t have to solve our problems, but they can remind us that we’re not alone in facing them. That’s where hope comes from—not from the promise of a perfect ending, but from the understanding that we can endure, that we can find meaning, and that we can keep going."
Krista Tippett:
"Thank you all for such profound reflections. It’s clear that fiction is more than just entertainment—it’s a source of comfort, resilience, and hope, especially in difficult times. As we navigate this age of despair, your stories remind us that even in the darkest moments, there is light to be found. Thank you, Danielle, Khaled, Alice, Margaret, and John, for sharing your insights today."
Short Bios:
J.K. Rowling is the British author of the globally popular Harry Potter series, which has captivated readers of all ages with its intricate world-building and exploration of themes such as love, friendship, and the battle between good and evil. Known for her outspoken views, Rowling has sparked significant cultural debates, adding to her legacy as one of the most influential authors of our time.
Salman Rushdie is a British-Indian novelist best known for Midnight’s Children and The Satanic Verses. His work often combines magical realism with historical and political themes, particularly concerning the Indian subcontinent. Rushdie has been a vocal advocate for freedom of expression, having faced threats and censorship throughout his career, making him a symbol of resilience in the literary world.
Margaret Atwood is a Canadian author whose works, including The Handmaid’s Tale and Oryx and Crake, delve into dystopian futures that explore themes of power, control, and the environment. Her sharp, prescient writing on these issues has made her a literary icon and a leading voice in speculative fiction.
Toni Morrison was an American novelist and Nobel Prize winner whose works, such as Beloved and Song of Solomon, center on the Black experience in America. Her profound narratives of identity, trauma, and healing have cemented her as one of the most important figures in modern American literature.
Khaled Hosseini is an Afghan-American author best known for The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns. His works are poignant explorations of the human spirit set against the backdrop of Afghanistan’s recent history, weaving themes of war, displacement, love, and redemption.
Alice Walker is an American author, best known for her Pulitzer Prize-winning novel The Color Purple. Her work often focuses on the struggles of African American women, exploring themes of race, gender, and healing. Walker is also a noted activist, speaking out on issues of social justice and equality.
George R. R. Martin is the American author of the A Song of Ice and Fire series, which inspired the hit television show Game of Thrones. Known for his complex characters and richly detailed fantasy world, Martin explores themes of power, loyalty, and morality, captivating audiences with unpredictable and deeply human narratives.
Stephen King is one of the most prolific and successful American authors of all time, with works such as The Shining, It, and Carrie defining the horror genre. King’s mastery of psychological terror, alongside his profound character development, has made his books enduring classics in both horror and suspense.
John Grisham is an American novelist famous for his legal thrillers like The Firm and A Time to Kill. His fast-paced stories, often set in the courtroom, explore themes of justice, morality, and corruption, making him one of the top-selling authors of his genre.
Danielle Steel is an American author known for her vast catalog of romance and drama novels, including The Promise and Jewels. Her stories, often revolving around family, relationships, and resilience, have made her one of the world’s bestselling authors, beloved for her emotionally driven, heartfelt narratives.
John Green is an American author known for his young adult novels like The Fault in Our Stars and Looking for Alaska. His works tackle heavy themes such as love, loss, and mental health, all while maintaining a deep sense of empathy and connection with younger audiences.
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