Cece Bell’s 2014 graphic memoir for children, El Deafo, was not only a Newbury Honor book but also a finalist for the Kirkus Prize, and it’s easy to understand why. With wonderful, colorful illustrations and a sharp sense of humor, the author tells of how, after being hospitalized for meningitis at the age of 4, she lost most of her hearing, and how she dealt with the challenges of living with deafness as an elementary-school kid in 1970s Virginia. In an author’s note, she states that the memoir is mildly fictionalized, with some composite characters and some invented conversations; the most notable diversion from reality, though, is that everyone in it is depicted as an anthropomorphic cartoon bunny. A three-episode animated miniseries adaptation, which Bell narrates, premieres on Apple TV+ on Jan. 7.

The memoir and miniseries both ably portray the young author’s significant hearing difficulties, although they do so in slightly different ways. In both, Bell tells of how she used lip-reading and sometimes-clunky hearing aids to better understand words spoken by people around her, at home and at school, and by actors on TV shows (which didn’t have closed-captions at the time). On the page, Bell gets across the experience of too-quiet and hard-to-understand dialogue with faded lettering and garbled text, as well as empty voice balloons when she could hear nothing at all.

Sometimes, Bell’s tone is explanatory, as when she notes a primary drawback of lip-reading—that “many words sound similar and people’s lips look the same when they are saying them: Mop, mob, mom, bop, bob, pop, or pom? Vase or face? Sherry, cherry, or Jerry? Sue or zoo?” At another point, she includes a detailed, annotated diagram of her Phonic Ear hearing aid—a powerful device that allowed her to clearly understand her teacher’s words when the latter wore a special microphone. In fact, the mic was so good that it allowed the young girl to hear what her instructor was doing outside of class—including using the restroom. The amused youngster saw this ability as a kind of superpower, and, in times of stress, she would imagine herself as a superhero called “El Deafo.”

The miniseries, which Bell co-wrote and executive-produced with Harriet the Spy’s Will McRobb, appealingly duplicates Bell’s quirky art style. However, it focuses less on the book’s nuts-and-bolts educational aspects than it does on its portrayal of young Cece’s emotions. One affecting moment from the memoir, in which the author discusses attending a school for Deaf children, shows the girl and her classmates in outer space, and it works especially well as dreamlike animation: “We were lost, drifting along on our own planets. But we were together in the same universe, at least.” The miniseries’ most notable difference, however, is how it gets across Cece’s experience of hearing—using audio that’s tinny and often muffled, with words occasionally obscured by microphone static or overwhelmed by ambient noises. It’s a bold creative decision, but a deeply rewarding one, as it forces viewers who aren’t deaf adjust to a whole new way of hearing—just as the young author did.

The show gets fine performances from its voice actors, including Lexi Finigan, who’s also Deaf, as the young Cece, and Glee’s Jane Lynch as Cece’s upbeat teacher. However, it does have a few minor flaws. For example, the book contains references to such TV shows as Star Trek, Little House on the Prairie, and The Waltons, Tom and Jerry cartoons, and even a Monty Python sketch, and their specificity makes Bell’s story feel even more relatable. Unfortunately, none of this intellectual property appears in the show, likely due to pricy licensing concerns. It’s particularly jarring when the book’s multiple, clever references to Batman—a superhero whom the young Bell revered—are replaced with the adventures of a rather cheesy caped crusader called “Mightybolt.” The TV series also has a tendency to lean excessively on Cece’s superheroic fantasies, which work much better on the page; onscreen, these sequences are visually interesting, but they have a tendency to bring the narrative to a halt. These are minor quibbles, however, for a show that engagingly gets across one young girl’s experiences with such style and heart.

David Rapp is the senior Indie editor.