6 Famous Characters Who Were Way Different In The Book

No, she isn't revived by the red priestess in the book; that would be laying it on a bit thin. In fact, it's Beric Dondarrion, the guy with more lives than a video game character, who blows life into her corpse with a kiss. Very Disney, sure, but the aftermath isn't. Beric dies transferring his life-giving essence into her, but even that isn't enough to fully bring her back. Catelyn comes back ... different, like a zombie. As Lady Stoneheart, her new moniker, her corpse-bod never recovered, and she still sports rotten white skin, wispy white hair, and a somewhat less-pleasant voice thanks to the julienning of her vocal cords. She's also an actual monster, driven entirely by revenge, drained of all the warmth she ever had. After she assumes leadership of the Brotherhood Without Banners, their main mission switches from protecting the common folk to hanging anyone who ever so much as made eye contact with a Lannister.

So thoroughly has Lady Stoneheart replaced any trace of Catelyn Stark that she has also forgotten she was once BFFs with Brienne of Tarth. In A Feast For Crows, Brienne, looking for Arya and the Hound, is captured by the Brotherhood. Lady Stoneheart, suspecting her once-sworn lady knight has gotten too pally with Jaime Lannister, gives her the option of finding and killing Jaime or getting hanged. Her choice is left ambiguous in the book, but Martin has confirmed that she went with the former at the last minute. Drama!

Want to make a transphobic nerd squirm? Inform them that Gandalf chose his gender. It's true! He's a Maiar, the "nearly-primordial spirits that descended into Arda to help the Valar first shape the World." Gandalf isn't human in the slightest, which not only gives him the handy characteristic of not being able to die, but it also means he doesn't have a fixed physical form. In fact, he spent ages wandering around Middle-earth unseen, journeying among the Elves and helping them by dropping visions and insights into their beautiful heads like a reverse pickpocket, because he's a much better non-person than we are.

It wasn't until the Third Age that the spirit originally named Olorin assumed the form of an eccentric elderly wizard. There's nothing intrinsically male about him that forced the decision -- he could as easily transform into Katy Perry if that's what the situation would call for. He just figured Middle-earthers would take him more seriously if he looked like a wise old man than, say, a wise old woman. Even in this world of ancient genderless spirits, you still have to account for sexism.

The sentimentality-drenched Oscar shoo-in we all know and love may be well-known and well-loved, but in the 1986 novel, Forrest Gump was both more amazing and less wholesome. Yes, Forrest becomes a ping-pong champion, fights in Nam, and founds a successful shrimp company, but he also tries his hand at professional wrestling, travels to space, narrowly avoids being eaten by cannibals, and stars in a movie with a nude Raquel Welch. Zemeckis cheated us all out of an R-rated Forrest Gump. Never forget.

But aside from his antics, Book Gump himself bears little resemblance to his movie version, both mentally and physically. At 6'6 and 240 lbs., the novel's author envisioned John Goodman in the role, not Tom Hanks. His personality is a little different from what we see onscreen, too. In the book, Gump is a short-sighted, angry dullard who never gains any wisdom or maturity, with a fondness for cursing, gambling, and smoking weed. He's a bit of a jerk, really. Can you imagine Tom Hanks doing any of that? Of course not. You can't even imagine Tom Hanks not saying "Bless you" after somebody sneezed.

Sadly, the filmmakers were looking for awards and not the soft-earned dollars of the American stoner population, so they chose to focus on the love story at the expense of some of Gump's more fantastic adventures. They had to tweak that a bit too, because instead of dying, Jenny originally ran off with another man. Gump's mother is still alive in the novel, too, and she also never sleeps with anyone in exchange for favors. As usual, on the road to the Oscars, the people who get screwed the most are the women.

Yup, Sherlock Holmes boxes. In one book, a prizefighter recognizes Sherlock not as a famous detective but as the guy who gave him an ass-kicking to remember in the ring. Does that sound like something you could see Benedict Cumberbatch do? We think not. And that's only the beginning. The Sherlock canon is so full of breathless descriptions of his physical prowess and how impressed everyone around him is that it verges on revealing eyebrow-raising things about Sir Doyle.

Then there are all the times that Sherlock has gone toe-to-toe with ne'er-do-wells and won. Easily. In one book, he brags that he sent a "slogging ruffian" "home in a cart," while in another, he laments that a knife-wielding thug managed to give him "a cut over the knuckles" before he smacked their ass down. He only loses one fight in the books, and that's only because he was heavily outnumbered and still exhausted from kicking someone's ass moments before.

Other characters gush that he is "capable of greater muscular effort" than almost any other man. He's so muscular and ripped that he could straighten bent steel ... and now we're no longer sure whether we've been reading the original novels or Sherlock erotic fanfic. But contradicting his ripped physique, the detective "seldom took exercise for exercise's sake," which is Doyle's way of saying Sherlock's the kind of manly man who eats cheeseburgers all day but never gains an ounce. He also uses weapons, including a riding crop and a pistol. Yes, that's Sherlock Holmes -- the original thinking man's thinking man -- pistol-whipping a bish.

But the piece de ridiculous comes in the form of the martial art in which Sherlock is an expert. In "The Adventure Of The Empty House," Sherlock explains that he managed to evade death and throw Moriarty at it by using a form of Japanese wrestling called "baritsu," which makes it sound like the skill involves distracting your opponent by brewing the perfect pumpkin spice latte. For a long time, fans thought it was a fictional martial art. In fact, bartitsu (with a "t") is a real thing; Doyle just spelled it wrong. And it isn't Japanese either, instead created by an English guy who tried to mix together "judo, jujitsu, British boxing, and" -- wait for it -- "fighting with a walking stick." It was all the rage among the upper class in Victorian England, who started to worry about their safety at the hands of the growing "street gangs" of people they oppressed. A fighting form British elitists developed to show the commoners how superior they are -- definitely the most Sherlock martial art ever created.