It’s funny. I loved the movie but hated the book and the reason for both feelings are almost identical. I will explain.
I hated Alice Sebold‘s book because I related so much to the father. I know, I know, my father is a dick who beat me mercilessly but I still loved him desperately. The father in the book works tirelessly to get the murderer of his child. He never succeeds but he never stops trying. That upset me terribly.
I loved Peter Jackson’s movie for similar reasons. Take a look at Saoirse Una Ronan in this film. Take a look at photos of me when I was that age. We could be the same person. And I find I relate to her (the character, not the person) in ways that make my heart hurt.
I dunno, maybe it’s a combination of an actress looking like me, some residual love I have for my abusive father and my intense fear of serial killers but this movie has it all.
So, you are still beautiful, Susie Salmon.