Now, Voyager is a book by Olive Higgins Prouty. But it’s also a movie starring Bette Davis, which just so happens to be one of my favorite movies, but the book came first and that’s what we’re here to talk about: the book.
But to be honest, the book and the movie are almost carbon copies of each other. Sure there are minor differences, but the film adaptation sticks very closely to its source material. Odds are, if the characters up on screen are talking, the words they’re saying came from the book’s pages.
So the story. Basically, Now, Voyager tells the tale of Charlotte Vale, a miserable frumpy sad sack who suffers a nervous breakdown and, after spending some time in a sanatorium, emerges from the other side thoroughly changed. She’s now capable, confident, outgoing … oh, and conventionally attractive, too. But what I love about the story is, a drop in poundage and a fancy makeover don’t immediately bring with them the skills it takes to navigate the world. So often in books and movies, a character switches out their glasses for contacts, runs a comb through their hair, and BAM. Totally new person. Not so for Charlotte. She’s just as shy and self-depreciating in her designer frocks and quaffed hair as she was in her 1940s equivalent of a muumuu. It’s the relationships she gradually forms that cause her to break out of her shell little by little.
But the one place where book and movie do differ significantly is how they begin. The movie opens with Charlotte still at home and still under her mother’s control. We see her mental break, we check in with her at the sanatorium, and then the story shifts to her venturing out on her own by way of a cruise. And when the new and improved Charlotte is finally revealed via that amazing camera pan (up from her shoes all the way to the top of her hat), it’s a Cinderella moment for the ages. We appreciate it so much because we��ve gotten to know lumpy bumpy unibrow Charlotte.
The book, on the other hand, begins with her already on the ship, already transformed. She reminisces about her time at home and the breakdown that led to her stay in the facility, but we aren’t fully transported there and I found that to be a little disappointing. Then again, Now, Voyager is the third book in a series and from what I’ve heard, Sad Charlotte was a supporting character in the previous two. So it might have seemed redundant for readers at the time if the book had taken time right off the bat to establish Charlotte as dowdy and put-upon.
In any event, it’s amazing that this book came out in 1941, given the positive things it has to say about therapy, psychiatry, and mental illness. As taboo as those subjects are in 2026, I can’t imagine how much more so they would’ve been eighty-some years ago. The book also teaches us that progress is not always linear. Sometimes all it takes is a single occurrence, one bad day, and we feel like we’re back at the starting line, with all of our accomplishments seemingly amounting to nothing.
Now, Voyager is often referred to as a love story. And I would agree with that. There's eye-batting, luscious lip-locks, and passionate embraces aplenty. But what the book is really about is learning to love YOURSELF, and that's the most important thing!