In the books, we know right away that the savior is Rand. The vast majority of the first book is told from his point of view, he’s the star, the hero! But the entire first season of the show insisted on making a mystery out of which main character would be identified as the Dragon Reborn, the prophesied reincarnation of the most powerful male channeler (aka wizard) in the world, the one destined to save—or, if mismanaged, destroy—the entire world.
The show’s creators elevated Rand’s best friends, Mat, Perrin, and Egwene to possible-Dragon-status. It was a massive change and one that wasted so much world-building time on an invented mystery to which book readers already knew the solution. The impulse to pull the story away from Rand is a trend that has persisted into the current season.
Season 3 begins with a show-stopping battle between different factions of the Aes Sedai, the strictly female order of magic-wielders. It features women of all ages, shapes, sizes, battling each other with magic and physical weapons. In fact, most of this season’s premiere centers around the machinations of various Aes Sedai, all of whom are played by incredible actors. (Kate Fleetwood as Lindrain, Sophie Okonedo as Siuan Sanche, and Rosamund Pike as Moiraine all anchor the series in nuanced performances loaded with gravitas.) These scenes and stories are great! But they are also a problem.
By completely shifting the focus of the series, the creators have buried the mythology and, honestly, the entire point of the story. Episode 4, “The Road to the Spear,” which focuses entirely on Rand, is by far the high point of the season. Every other character’s plot, motivation, and often existence revolves around the success or failure of this man. So why on Earth aren’t we seeing more of him? It’s like adapting the New Testament but deciding not to focus on Jesus quite so much. He’s kind of the main dude.
Let’s be very real: Many changes had to happen. Robert Jordan’s female characters and overall approach to gender are the books’ most glaring flaws. Magic is only available to those born with the gift to access it and the system is entirely based on gender. Magic has a distinctly male and distinctly female side, which operate differently. Because of a corruption in the male side of magic, men who wield it go insane; women don’t. This, of course, is premised on the idea that there are exactly two genders; what happens to trans, non-binary, or intersex characters? Unsurprisingly, the book doesn’t bother addressing this topic; neither have the show’s creators. In fact, they’ve generally had a pretty light touch as far explaining the magic at all.
The other and maybe even pricklier issue is that the books’ central romantic plotlines end in what is essentially polygamy. The show hasn’t gotten there yet but readers know what’s coming, and it seems clear that the show’s creators intend to swap polygamy with polyamory, a choice that doesn’t fundamentally change the plot so much as empower the three women who will eventually be involved in this plotline. Plus, it’s hotter.
Writers have also given a much needed zhuzh to a few female characters, most notably Nynaeve al’Meara whose main function in the books is to scowl, yank on her braid, and be an unbearable pain in the ass. In the show, Zoe Robbins’ excellent interpretation of Nynaeve is still brooding but far more interesting. The show’s Egwene, played by Madeleine Madden, is more obviously ambitious; Ayoola Smart’s take on Aviendha is wry and fun. Excellent acting and more-nuanced writing allow each of these women to feel more like multidimensional people, as opposed to the often sexist archetypes that they are in the books (this first of which was published in 1990). You can’t help but feel like the late Robert Jordan was a guy who might have called women “badass” a lot.
These adjustments and rewrites aren’t just born out of necessity; they make for really good TV. Not only would Jordan’s blushing versions of sexuality and polygamy be bad on screen in 2025, they were bad in the books too. Cuts, tweaks, and backstory changes (i.e. Lanfear is a magic socialist!?) all make the jump from page to screen possible. And if the creators had stopped there, we might be talking about a pretty successful adaptation.
Making huge changes in any kind of adaptation is inevitable. Game of Thrones axed entire plotlines (goodbye, Lady Stoneheart) that took up major real estate in the series. But the arc of the show is still about power, family, and succession. Cersei Lannister is still a crazy bitch who would do anything for her kids. Ned Stark still loses his head. It still feels like the books translated onto the screen.
I’m not sure you can say the same for The Wheel of Time. The changes surrounding women and gender are an enhancement, one that maybe honors how fans in the ’90s felt seeing women characters in high fantasy at all. But diminishing the main character, the spoke around which the entire wheel of the series turns, is a mistake. In tweaking the things they had to in order to make an adaptation feel watchable, the show’s creators bought themselves good will. In taking the story away from Rand, they waste the one thing they don’t have: time.
