On the day that Stephen L. Carter’s lengthy novel, The Emperor of Ocean Park, was published in 2002, it was already a publishing sensation. The previous year, it had been the subject of a bidding war that resulted in an advance of more than $4 million for two books—one of the largest ever for a debut author. A few months before its publication, Kirkus gave the book a starred review, calling it “a melodrama with brains and heart to match its killer plot.” That was just one of many accolades Emperor would receive, and nearly a quarter-century later, it’s easy to see why, as it skillfully mixes elements of legal and conspiracy thrillers, family sagas, and novels of academia.

A new series adaptation, starring Grantham Coleman and Oscar winner Forest Whitaker, is faithful to the book in many ways but doesn’t quite capture its genre-hopping appeal. It premieres on MGM+ on July 14.

As the novel opens, Oliver Garland, a 70-year-old Black conservative federal judge, has recently died of a heart attack. He was once a U.S. Supreme Court nominee, but his friendship with the wealthy Jack Ziegler, a shady figure who’s done work for the CIA, doomed his chances. (A magazine article called the judge “The Emperor of Ocean Park”—a reference to his house on Martha’s Vineyard.) New England law professor Talcott “Tal” Garland, the novel’s narrator, is ambivalent about the demise of his emotionally distant father; he didn’t have a close relationship with him, and neither did his sister, Pulitzer Prize–winning ex-journalist Mariah, or his brother, Addison, the flighty host of a radio call-in show. (Their sister, Abigail, who died in a hit-and-run accident years earlier, also had a difficult relationship with the judge.)

The conspiracy-minded Mariah believes that their father was murdered—possibly by Ziegler, who recently asked Tal about unexplained “arrangements” that Garland had made before his death. Later, a posthumous note from the judge offers little clarity about what the arrangements are; he says only that someone called “Angela’s boyfriend” will “reveal” them to Tal—whatever that means. One thing is clear, though: Many people are after the mysterious “arrangements,” including agents of the FBI; violent hired thugs; and a charming operative named Maxine, whose bosses, she says, are “kinda like the good guys.” As Tal investigates further, he finds out disturbing secrets about the judge and others in his circle.

All of this makes Carter’s book sound like a legal thriller à la John Grisham’s The Firm (1991), which it is, in part; one subplot involves Tal’s wife, Kimmer, being vetted for a possible federal judgeship. The novel also delves into conspiracy territory, involving players with connections to the FBI, the CIA, and other shadowy groups; there are also numerous chess references, which feel straight out of spy fiction. In addition, the author expertly navigates the hallowed halls of academia, as Tal deals with faculty politics as a tenured professor, as well as the family politics of the extended Garland clan. Along the way, Carter finds time to explore Tal and Kimmer’s troubled marriage and its attendant jealousies, and he even touches on racial politics in America, with Tal offering his thoughts, by turns, on the “darker nation” and the “paler nation.”

The author, a Yale Law School professor, moves through all of this with captivating ease. However, he takes his time revealing just what the judge was up to, and even the most passionate thriller fans will eventually tire of all the red herrings. Still, it’s a masterful effort—and one that presents numerous challenges for anyone seeking to adapt it to the screen.

The MGM+ series, created and co-written by Sherman Payne (Black as Night), makes a valiant attempt. However, the book doesn’t translate well to an episodic format, which requires the constant forward momentum that a standard thriller provides. Carter’s novel, by contrast, frequently pauses the action to go on tangents about, say, the Double Excelsior chess problem, or restaurants in Martha’s Vineyard. The novel also features a main character who’s entertaining, but neither likable nor especially heroic; he’s given to cruel judgments and petty grievances, and his self-pity knows no bounds, particularly regarding his marriage. This sort of curmudgeonly protagonist plays better on the page than it does onscreen, so it makes sense that the series’ creative team would try to focus more on the story’s secondary players. It also focuses on the thriller plot as much as possible, sometimes to its detriment.

One way it does this is by relying heavily on flashbacks, which the book does not; this allows the judge—a vague, almost ghostly presence in the book—to appear in scene after scene. Whitaker delivers a fine performance, revealing the judge as an arrogant and controlling man who’s unable to see the merits of any other point of view but his own. However, his constant presence undermines the mystery; it’s the judge’s unknowability, after all, that makes the “arrangements” so difficult to unearth. The show also focuses far more heavily on Mariah, played by Jessica Jones’ Tiffany Mack, but it doesn’t develop her character to any significant degree. As a result, her scenes frequently feel like padding in a 10-episode season that already feels overlong.

Coleman does his best as Tal, but this adaptation sands off the sharp edges of his character, making him an anxious but bland hero. He’s less stiff than the book’s version of Tal—who would never think of quoting the lyrics of Nas’ hip-hop single “Can’t Forget About You”—and he has more self-confidence, but he’s far less interesting. Frankly, the role seems like a waste of Coleman’s talents; he memorably played the amoral killer Ronnie Mathis in the excellent Starz crime-drama series Power Book III: Raising Kanan, and Emperor of Ocean Park gives him much less to work with.

Fans of the novel are likely to appreciate how much of Carter’s twisty story makes it into this adaptation intact, but few will come away completely satisfied. Fortunately, Carter published two more Kirkus-starred books set in the same fictional universe—2007’s New England White and 2008’s Palace Council—for readers seeking similar thrills.

David Rapp is the senior Indie editor.