Which Heroic Books Have The Highest Reader Ratings?

I get asked this kind of thing a lot in book groups, and my short take is straightforward: I haven’t seen any major film adaptations of books by Hilary Quinlan circulating in theaters or on streaming platforms. From my perspective as someone who reads a lot of indie and midlist fiction, authors like Quinlan often fly under the radar for big-studio picks. That doesn’t mean their stories couldn’t translate well to screen — sometimes smaller presses or niche writers find life in festival shorts, stage plays, or low-budget indie features long after a book’s release. If you love a particular novel, those grassroots routes (local theater, fan films, or a dedicated short) are often where adaptation energy shows up first. I’d be thrilled to see one of those books get a careful, character-driven film someday; it would feel like uncovering a secret treasure.

Picking up a book labeled for younger readers often feels like trading in a complicated map for a compass — there's still direction and depth, but the route is clearer. I notice YA tends to center protagonists in their teens or early twenties, which naturally focuses the story on identity, first loves, rebellion, friendship and the messy business of figuring out who you are. Language is generally more direct; sentences move quicker to keep tempo high, and emotional beats are fired off in a way that makes you feel things immediately. That doesn't mean YA is shallow. Plenty of titles grapple with grief, grief, abuse, mental health, and social justice with brutal honesty — think of books like 'Eleanor & Park' or 'The Hunger Games'. What shifts is the narrative stance: YA often scaffolds complexity so readers can grow with the character, whereas adult fiction will sometimes immerse you in ambiguity, unreliable narrators, or long, looping introspection. From my perspective, I choose YA when I want an electric read that still tackles big ideas without burying them in stylistic density; I reach for adult novels when I want to be challenged by form or moral nuance. Both keep me reading, just for different kinds of hunger.

I get such a kick picturing a heroic Italian 'Berkeley' sashaying into a convention hall — it’s an idea that practically begs for cosplay. Imagine blending Renaissance and Roman heroic motifs (laurel crowns, embossed leather, intricate brocade) with modern collegiate or city-surfer touches you might associate with Berkeley: worn denim, a distinctive patch, a messenger bag repurposed into a utility satchel. That contrast is gold for a costume because it gives you layers to play with in both design and character. Practically, I’d start with a strong silhouette: cape or half-cape, fitted doublet or leather jerkin, and then stitch in local flavor — a patched insignia, a subtle school-colored trim, or even a tiny flag motif. Accessories are where the personality shows: a handcrafted mask inspired by Venetian carnival, a battered field notebook, and weathered boots. If you want to go meta, make the character the kind of heroic student-activist who carries protest flyers and a sword, so your cosplay tells a story as soon as people see it. What I love most is how approachable this mashup feels: it’s original enough to turn heads but flexible for makers of all skill levels. I’ve gotten the warmest reactions when I mix unexpected eras and cultures — people lean in to read the little details, and that always makes me grin.

I've always loved tracing where larger-than-life comic heroes come from, and when it comes to that kind of swaggery, rebellious frontier hero in Italian comics, a good place to point is 'Blek le Roc'. Created in the 1950s by the trio known as EsseGesse (Giovanni Sinchetto, Dario Guzzon and Pietro Sartoris), 'Blek le Roc' debuted in Italy and quickly became one of those simple-but-epic characters who felt both American and distinctly Italian at the same time. The context matters: post-war Italy was hungry for adventure, and Westerns, pulps and US strips poured in via cinema and magazines. The creators mixed American Revolutionary War settings, folk-hero tropes, and bold, clean art that resonated with kids and adults alike. That combination—that hyper-heroic yet approachable protagonist, serialized in pocket-sized comic books—set the template for many Italian heroes that followed, from 'Tex' to 'Zagor'. Personally, I love how 'Blek' feels like an honest, rough-around-the-edges champion; he’s not glossy, he’s heartfelt, and that origin vibe still feels refreshingly direct to me.

If you're hunting for a laugh-out-loud spin on 'Dune' or a silly retelling of 'The Time Machine', my go-to starting point is Archive of Our Own. AO3's tag system is a dream for digging up comedy: search 'humor', 'parody', 'crack', or toss in 'crossover' with something intentionally absurd (think 'Dune/X-Men' or 'Foundation/Harry Potter' parodies). I personally filter by kudos and bookmarks to find pieces that other readers loved, and then follow authors who consistently write witty takes. Beyond AO3, I poke around Tumblr microfics for one-shot gags and Wattpad for serialized absurd reimaginings—Wattpad often has modern-AU comedic rewrites of classics that lean into meme culture. FanFiction.net still has a huge archive, though its tagging is clunkier; search within category pages for titles like 'Frankenstein' or 'The War of the Worlds' and then scan chapter summaries for words like 'humor' or 'au'. If you like audio, look up fanfiction readings on YouTube or podcasts that spotlight humorous retellings. Reddit communities such as r/fanfiction and r/WritingPrompts regularly spawn clever, comedic takes on canonical works. Personally, I get the biggest kick from short, sharp pieces—drabbles and drabble collections—that turn a grave sci-fi premise into pure silliness, and I love bookmarking authors who can do that again and again.

Hunting for playful lines that stick in a kid's head is one of my favorite little obsessions. I love sprinkling tiny zingers into stories that kids can repeat at the playground, and here are a bunch I actually use when I scribble in the margins of my notes. Short, bouncy, and silly lines work wonders: "The moon forgot its hat tonight—do you have one to lend?" or "If your socks could giggle, they'd hide in the laundry and tickle your toes." Those kinds of quotes invite voices when read aloud and give illustrators a chance to go wild with expressions. For a more adventurous tilt I lean into curiosity and brave small risks: "Maps are just secret drawings waiting to befriend your feet," "Even tiny owls know how to shout 'hello' to new trees," or "Clouds are borrowed blankets—fold them neatly and hand them back with a smile." I like these because they encourage imagination without preaching. When I toss them into a story, I picture a child turning a page and pausing to repeat the line, which keeps the rhythm alive. I also mix in a few reassuring lines for tense or new moments: "Nervous is just excitement wearing a sweater," and "Bravery comes in socks and sometimes in quiet whispers." These feel honest and human while still being whimsical. Bedtime and lullaby-style quotes call for softer textures. I often write refrains like "Count the stars like happy, hopped little beans—one for each sleepy wish," or "The night tucks us in with a thousand tiny bookmarks." For rhyme and read-aloud cadence I enjoy repeating consonants and short beats: "Tip-tap the raindrops, let them drum your hat to sleep." I also love interactive lines that invite a child to answer, such as "If you could borrow a moment, what color would it be?" That turns reading into a game. Honestly, the sweetest part for me is seeing a line land—kids repeating it, parents smiling, artists sketching it bigger, and librarians whispering about it behind the counter. Those tiny echoes are why I keep writing these little sparks, and they still make me grin every time.

If you love scrappy underdog heroes who happen to have whiskers, start with 'Ratatouille' — that's the big one. I usually find it on Disney+ (it's a Pixar film, so that’s the most consistent home) and it's exactly the kind of heroic-rat story that delights: Remy hustling for his culinary dreams. For a more sewer-city, fast-paced rodent romp check 'Flushed Away' (it pops up on Netflix or Amazon Prime Video for rent depending on region). If you want the mentor/wise-rat vibe, look for the various 'Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' shows or movies — Splinter is a huge rat presence there and many seasons live on Paramount+ or on platforms that carry Nickelodeon catalogues. For older, darker animated rat-and-mouse tales like 'The Secret of NIMH', search Max (or rent on Prime/iTunes) or keep an eye on free ad-supported services like Tubi/Pluto — classics tend to rotate. Personally, I adore how Remy proves that a tiny hero can change a kitchen (and my mood) in one go.

One book that really stands out to me when it comes to tackling adversity is 'The Alchemist' by Paulo Coelho. This story encapsulates the journey of self-discovery and the importance of pursuing your dreams, even when the odds are stacked against you. The protagonist, Santiago, faces numerous challenges throughout his travels, from losing his flock of sheep to being robbed in Tangier. Yet, what I love about this novel is that it’s not just about physical challenges but emotional and spiritual ones too. It really resonates with anyone who has ever felt lost or unsure about their path in life. Coelho beautifully illustrates that every setback is just a stepping stone toward personal growth. The message of listening to your heart and recognizing the signs from the universe really encourages readers to keep pushing forward, and that provides a bittersweet sort of hope. I’ve personally found this book to be a source of inspiration in tough times, reminding me that every struggle is part of a larger journey. Plus, the way Coelho weaves in elements of magical realism makes it feel like you’re embarking on an enchanting adventure rather than merely reading a self-help book. On the other hand, a more modern classic that hits close to home is 'Educated' by Tara Westover. This memoir narrates her incredible journey from a strict and isolated upbringing in rural Idaho to earning a PhD from Cambridge University. What astonishes me about Westover’s story is her relentless pursuit of knowledge in the face of overwhelming adversity. Growing up without formal education and within a family that was deeply suspicious of conventional societal norms, she embodies the struggle against ignorance and oppression. The raw honesty with which she shares her experiences strikes a chord, particularly her battles against familial loyalty and her thirst for personal growth. I often reflect on how it relates to my own challenges; pursuing education in unconventional environments can sometimes feel like swimming against the current. Westover’s ultimate success, despite her humble beginnings, inspires anyone who feels trapped by circumstance. Her message rings true: you hold the power to change your narrative. Both 'The Alchemist' and 'Educated' remind us that adversity can refine our character if we embrace it and continue to seek our true purpose in life.