Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children: What the Movies Got Wrong

Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children: What the Movies Got Wrong

You probably remember the first time you saw those creepy vintage photos. A girl hovering off the ground. A boy with bees living inside him. A pair of masked twins who look like they stepped out of a nightmare. Ransom Riggs didn’t just write a book; he built an entire subculture around the idea of being "peculiar." But if you’ve only seen the Tim Burton movie, honestly, you’re missing about half the story. Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children isn't just a fantasy trope about kids with superpowers. It’s actually a deeply layered allegory for the Jewish experience during World War II, wrapped in a Gothic time-loop mystery.

It’s weird.

The books are haunting because they use real, unedited found photography. Riggs started as a collector of old snapshots he found at swap meets. He noticed that some of them felt... off. Instead of just putting them in an album, he built a universe where these photos were evidence of a hidden race of people called syndrigasti. If you’re a fan of the series, you know that the "peculiarities" aren't always gifts. Sometimes they’re burdens. Imagine being a girl who has to wear heavy lead shoes just so you don't float away into the stratosphere and die. That’s the reality for Olive in the books—though the movie famously swapped her powers with Emma’s.

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Let’s talk about that for a second. In the original text of Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, Emma Bloom is a pyrokinetic. She can make fire with her hands. She’s tough, fiery, and a bit dangerous. In the movie, she’s the one who floats. Why? Probably because floating looks "prettier" on a big screen with CGI. But it fundamentally changes the dynamic. When Emma creates fire, it’s an active, aggressive power. When she floats, she’s passive. She’s a balloon that needs to be held down. It’s a subtle shift that kind of strips away her agency.

And don’t even get me started on the age gap.

In the books, Jacob Portman is a teenager struggling with the legacy of his grandfather, Abraham. Abraham was a "peculiar" who escaped the monsters (Hollowgasts) and the Nazis. The monsters are literally invisible to everyone except a few, which is a pretty heavy-handed but effective metaphor for the way society ignores the plight of refugees.

Understanding the Time Loops (Ymbrynes 101)

Basically, a time loop is a sanctuary. Miss Peregrine—the headmistress—is an Ymbryne. She can manipulate time and turn into a bird. To keep her children safe, she created a loop on September 3, 1940. They live that same day over and over. They never age. They never change. On one hand, they’re safe from the bombs of the Luftwaffe. On the other hand, they’re stuck in a permanent state of childhood.

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Imagine living the same Tuesday for eighty years.

You’d go insane, right? Most of the children in Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children have developed strange psychological quirks because of this stagnation. Enoch, the boy who can animate the dead using animal hearts, isn't just "creepy." He’s a person who has been a child for nearly a century. That’s going to mess with your head. The loop isn't just a bunker; it's a gilded cage.

The Monsters are Real (Sorta)

The villains of the series, the Wights and the Hollowgasts, are some of the most unsettling antagonists in modern YA literature. A Hollowgast is what happens when a peculiar tries to use a time loop to gain immortality but fails. They become invisible, soul-eating monsters with tentacles coming out of their mouths. If they eat enough peculiar souls, they "evolve" into Wights.

Wights look like humans.

That’s the scary part. They have white eyes with no pupils, but they wear wigs and sunglasses. They blend in. They could be your bus driver or your neighbor. This is where the WWII parallels get really sharp. The idea that the person living next door to you could secretly be a monster hunting you down is a very real historical trauma that Riggs taps into.

Why the Setting Matters

The island of Cairnholm is fictional, but it feels incredibly tangible. It’s off the coast of Wales, shrouded in fog and mud. It’s isolated. For Jacob, leaving his boring life in Florida to go to a damp, miserable island seems like a step down until he finds the ruins of the house.

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The house was bombed. In the "real" world (the present day), it’s a skeleton of a building. But inside the loop, it’s a Victorian masterpiece. This contrast between the decay of the present and the preserved beauty of the past is the heart of the aesthetic. It’s why the "cottagecore" and "dark academia" crowds obsessed over this series long after the movie hype died down.

The Legacy of Abraham Portman

We have to talk about Abe. He’s the reason the story exists. Jacob’s grandfather told him stories his whole life about "monsters" and "special children." Jacob eventually assumed his grandfather had dementia or was just making up stories to process his trauma from the Holocaust.

It’s a gut punch when Jacob realizes the monsters were literal.

Abraham spent his life hunting Hollows. He left his family to do it. This creates a massive theme of generational trauma. Jacob has to decide if he wants to follow in those footsteps or live a "normal" life. Most people think Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children is a story about finding where you belong. Really, it’s a story about the cost of belonging. You get safety, but you lose the world. You get a family, but you’re hunted forever.

Peculiarity as a Spectrum

The later books in the series—Hollow City, Library of Souls, and the second trilogy starting with A Map of Days—expand the world significantly. We learn that America has its own peculiar underground. It’s much more chaotic than the British system.

The powers get weirder, too.

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  • Millard Nullings: He’s completely invisible. Not because of a cloak, but because his body just doesn't reflect light. He has to stay naked to be truly unseen. Think about the logistics of that in a Welsh winter.
  • Bronwyn Bruntley: She has "the strength of ten men." She’s a tiny girl who can lift a boulder. It’s a classic power, but Riggs writes it with a sense of physical weight.
  • Hugh Apiston: He has a hive of bees in his stomach. He’s literally a living ecosystem.

These aren't just "X-Men" powers. They are physical deformities that the characters have to manage daily. It’s messy and often gross.

How to Experience the Story Properly

If you're looking to actually dive into this world, skip the movie trailers for a minute. Go find the original hardcovers. The way the photos are integrated into the pages is something a digital screen or a movie theater can't replicate. You’re meant to flip to the back and see the "evidence" for yourself.

Riggs worked with collectors like Robert Jackson and Leonard Light to find these images. They are real artifacts from the early 20th century. Knowing that these are real people—people who actually lived and died—makes the fictional story feel uncomfortably close to reality.

Actionable Steps for New Fans

  1. Read the first three books as a trilogy. While there are six books in total, the first three (Miss Peregrine, Hollow City, and Library of Souls) form a complete arc. The second trilogy shifts the setting to America and changes the tone significantly.
  2. Look up the "found photography" history. Understanding that the books were written around the photos, rather than the photos being taken for the books, changes how you perceive the plot.
  3. Watch the movie with a grain of salt. View it as an "alternate universe." Eva Green is a fantastic Miss Peregrine, even if the plot takes massive liberties with the source material.
  4. Visit a local antique shop. Try to find "peculiar" photos of your own. You’ll be surprised how many 1920s portraits look like they belong in a horror movie once you start looking for the details.

The world of Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children isn't going away. It tapped into a very specific human desire to be special, even if that specialness comes with a price. It reminds us that history is never really "over"—it’s just looping somewhere, waiting for us to find the entrance.

If you want to understand the lore, you have to accept the shadows. The series is at its best when it's uncomfortable. It’s not a cozy fantasy. It’s a story about children who have been forced to be soldiers, living in a world that wants to eat them alive. It’s dark, it’s weird, and it’s honestly one of the most original pieces of fiction from the last two decades.