Should some pieces of literature be left alone in the form they come into the world or should they be taken, re-worked, re-invented and re-hashed with a cherry on top? There are so many answers to this question. For starters, it depends on the original book or play or poem; it depends into whose hands this material falls and then it depends on the final product.

For most people, The Godfather will only ever be a film starring Marlon Brando and around eight cotton balls (this despite the fact that Mario Puzo's book is very entertaining) and this isn't necessarily a bad thing given the quality of the films that resulted.

Last week I ordered a dvd of The Collector, John Fowles's creepy book, translated to screen with a cast led by Terence Stamp.

Sadly, the brilliance of the book was lost in translation as Stamp (and others) turned in a performance that was closer to Austin Powers than Hannibal Lecter (he was better as Zod in Superman II if the truth be told).

Recently, a Stephen King short-story-turned-film, The Shawshank Redemption, was named the world's favourite film. I seriously need to re-visit it because I simply do not share the world's fascination with this film. I found it plodding, dull, and utterly forgettable and, in any conversation I find myself in about it, I am in the minority (usually of one). Now it's a successful play and it can only be a matter of time before it's a morbid musical with an all-singing, all-dancing cast of convicts.

The Bible made for a fine musical thanks to Andrew Lloyd-Webber and Tim Rice. The West End musical Jesus Christ Superstar became a funky 1970s film (remember the bus in the desert?) and it's a chestnut that continues to appeal around the world.

I was dragged to London by my enthusiastic 10-year-old during the summer to see a peculiar take on the Wizard of Oz story. Wicked is a musical prequel to the film of the book that has enthralled children and adults since it first appeared in cinemas 70 years ago. I have never read the book but feel that I know it better than I know Peig or most other fables, legends, and stories, that were taught to me at school. Wicked takes the whole interpretation thing a step forward (or backwards) as it suggests the back story as to why the Wicked Witch of the West is so angry.

As it was written in the 1990s, the story is infused with mawkish political correctness. The witch is a victim, punished for the colour of her skin and accused of crimes she didn't commit. The Good Witch is a saccharine pain in the ass who gets her comeuppance in the end. The music is tedious but totally compelling for the target audience (young girls and camp guys) who were probably experiencing the extravaganza for the 10th time anyway.

For me, I'll stick with the movie and perhaps some day, the book.

Staying with interpretations of children's books, Gene Wilder (right) got it spot on when he took on the Roald Dahl role of Willy Wonka. The songs were infectious and magical, the children were unforgettable and repulsive and the sets still made the big kid in me wide-eyed with excitement. I will ignore the Burton re-make/travesty (in which David Kelly excels as Grandpa Joe, the only saving grace). In the case of Wonka book versus film, I'd give it a draw.

Then there's the world of 'What if?' in which modern authors are being hired to imagine the sequel to classic stories.

Star Trek fans would argue that this is tampering with the Prime Directive: leave things as you find them for fear of upsetting the planet (where's my anorak?).

Daphne Du Maurier's Rebecca was given this treatment and it was gruesome but Laurence Olivier's Maxim de Winter was a triumph.

Gone with the Wind was given similar treatment but I have read neither book. Part of me also feels that life is too short to sit through a four-hour film that really appeals to mothers (and there's nothing wrong with that, etc). They've done a fine job on the Narnia books (although I preferred the BBC series to the films, which are a little over-bearing) and the Harry Potter books (which I found a bit boring to be honest) turned out to be very entertaining films that continue to attract the highest quality actors.

On the small screen some of the finest books of the 20th Century have been treated with due respect.

Who will forget the stumbling Derek Jacobi as Claudius in the BBC adaptation of Robert Graves's I, Claudius? Together with Sian Phillips as Livia and Brian Blessed as Augustus, this cheap-looking production is among the best-ever produced by the BBC.

Their rivals on UTV went one better some years later with their take on Brideshead Revisited which made stars of Anthony Andrews and Jeremy Irons (treat yourself to the soundtrack, it's a gem) although the recent film re-make was an unnecessary mistake.

My old friend, Inspector Morse was always better on the screen than on the page. The author, Colin Dexter, was blessed that his fine work fell into the hands of people who understood his creation -- and John Thaw was born to drive that Jaguar.

In Ireland, RTE delivered the goods courtesy of Strumpet City (David Kelly again stealing the show as Rashers Tierney -- he was just 49 at the time) so it wasn't just the British who were delivering quality interpretations.

With budgets being thrown at Big Brother, Dancing on Ice and X-Factor at the expense of such high quality drama, one hopes that the great works of literature continue to find a respectful home on the screen, be it silver or small.

- Ryan Tubridy