Despite my misgivings about the first part of the BBC adaptation of Sebastian Faulks’s Birdsong, I still had fairly high hopes for the second half. Okay, there was a lot to cram in to one episode, but at least it would mainly focus around Stephen Wraysford, his comrades and their reactions, rather than the slightly drippy and far-too-young Isabelle – or at least that was what I hoped. However, I was once again disappointed. Not only did Isabelle feature far too much, but enormous (and very relevant) chunks of the story had been chopped out, in favour of dewey-eyed stares into the distance.

What happened, for example, to Isabelle’s affair with Max, the German soldier and why did she have to die during the war, rather than afterwards? Why was there not more chemistry between Stephen and Jeanne: he does go on to marry her, after all! Where, oh where was the friendship between Wraysford and Weir, which seems to have disappeared completely, with Weir’s character being cast as a closet homosexual, due to the totally unnecessary discovery of the nude male photographs after his death? This shows a frustrating lack of understanding on the part of the screenwriter as to the relationships forged by men in war. Many loved each other in a purely platonic manner with a strength of emotion unmatched in any civilian relationships. Weir’s friendship with Wraysford in the novel is based upon the former’s hero worship of the latter and his need for Stephen’s support. It is only after Weir’s death that Wraysford begins to appreciate that he too has lost something of great significance. Through Weir and, later Firebrace, the cold-hearted Wraysford learns to appreciate love.

Nonetheless, according to this adaptation, it is Isabelle (and her willowy stares), who will always haunt Stephen. However, what the drama failed to capture is that it is Jeanne who really saves him. This failed to come across because Stephen is portrayed as an independent and capable character who doesn’t really need saving, whereas in the novel he is shown to be emotionally destroyed and completely lost.

Personally, I would have preferred to see six, one hour dramas with the story properly told, than this three hour attempt to capitalise on a popular and frequently studied novel. Producers of works which are on the mainstream syllabus have a duty of care to tell the story properly because there will be students who may now consider it unnecessary to read the novel, when they can simply watch three hours of attractive drama. All I can say is, please don’t be tempted into such folly: the television show may be pretty, but the novel will reward you with so much more.

PLEASE NOTE: This article contains spoilers because it is based not just on the BBC adaptation, but on the story as a whole.

I began watching the BBC’s adaptation of Birdsong as not the world’s greatest fan of this novel, or its author, but with fairly high hopes, based on the trailers that have been running since Christmas, that here might be a visual feast of an adaptation which surpassed the original and which might help students who are studying this text.

Within ten minutes, I was already disappointed. Certainly the sets were sumptuous and reasonably accurate, but the constant flitting between 1910 and 1916 was too distracting for words. By all means, the story can be told in a series of flashbacks – that is, essentially, how the book is written – but couldn’t we at least remain in one time zone for long enough to acclimatise to it? It is really important to the creation and understanding of Stephen’s character, that we see his relationship with Isabelle as a whole. Only by building the intensity between them and then seeing the destruction caused to him, do we comprehend his aloof nature in the trenches. Given the style of telling the story in this adaptation, we fail to see this, because we don’t yet know that Isabelle will leave Stephen and that this will change his outlook and personality significantly. Stephen isn’t someone who is changed by war: he is changed by his perception of love. Without properly developing Stephen and Isabelle’s relationship before showing us his character in the trenches, his different personality doesn’t really make sense.

One of my biggest disappointments with the adaptation was the things that were left unsaid or undone. Where were all the intimate conversations between Stephen and Isabelle? Where was Stephen’s uncontrollable lust, so great that he even contemplated rape? This helps us to understand his lack of true understanding of “love”, as opposed to “desire” at this stage of his life. Why was not more made of the underground scenes, especially the fight in which Wraysford was injured, which is so graphically described in the novel?

The introduction of Jeanne so early on and her warning to Stephen were, frankly, infuriating. Her character in the novel would never have done this: her loyalty to Isabelle is absolute and at this stage Jeanne is no more than her sister’s confidante. This effectively “dumbs down” the piece, showing the viewer – very obviously – that Isabelle cannot necessarily be trusted and that Stephen is risking his heart by becoming involved with her. In the novel, the reader is well aware of this, purely by Isabelle’s reactions, without needing another character to actually explain it.

I am also left wondering why the modern section of the novel was completely omitted. Elizabeth’s story helps to complete the circle, telling the story itself and providing some contrasts with situations and characters.

With another episode to go (and an awful lot of story still to cram in) my one ray of hope throughout the programme was the performance of Joseph Mawle as Jack Firebrace, who I felt most closely captured the character from the novel. Whenever he was on the screen, all others paled into insignificance.

At 10.30, however, I was left with a sense of concern that there will be some students who will now decide that it is acceptable to simply watch three hours of television, rather than read a 500 page novel. Well, it isn’t. This adaptation fails to capture the extraordinary and intense atmosphere of passion, war and love that Faulks conveys in his novel. So, I have to say that 10.30 on Sunday 22nd January also saw me with a new-found respect for Sebastian Faulks, who achieved all of this through words alone. If you don’t believe me; read the book.