Diana Gabaldon

Outlander was a best seller 20 years ago, although I had managed to avoid it and its sequels all this time. However, author Diana Gabaldon (rhymes with “stone”) added me to her “interesting libraries” list on LibraryThing so my curiosity was piqued. To my considerable surprise (I admit to profound geek chauvinism), Gabaldon’s website bio has the following paragraph:


“Dr. Gabaldon holds three degrees in science: Zoology, Marine Biology, and Quantitative Behavioral Ecology, (plus an show more honorary degree as Doctor of Humane Letters, which entitles her to be “Diana Gabaldon, Ph.D., D.H.L.” She supposes this is better than “Diana Gabaldon, Phd.X,”) and spent a dozen years as a university professor with an expertise in scientific computation before beginning to write fiction. She has written scientific articles and textbooks, worked as a contributing editor on the MacMillan ENCYCLOPEDIA OF COMPUTERS, founded the scientific-computation journal SCIENCE SOFTWARE QUARTERLY, and has written numerous comic-book scripts for Walt Disney. None of this has anything whatever to do with her novels, but there it is.”


A romance novelist with multiple science PhDs? There are certainly possibilities here:


Daisy stood before Lord Somerset in the flickering, ruddy light from the great fireplace, crossed her arms over her chest, gently eased her thin chemise off her shoulders, and allowed it to fall in a pool at her feet. Somerset looked her up and down appraisingly. “Mammology was my favorite course at Oxford”, he remarked. “And did you specialize in any particular group?” Somerset was unable to keep his left eyebrow from twitching upward. “The Castoridae”.


Afterwards, as they lay together in the heather, Alastair laid his hand on her milk white thigh and gently traced one warm, pulsing blue vein with his little finger. “I love the way your hemoglobin oxidizes”, he softly whispered.


The yearning induced by their mutually elevated phenylethylamine could no longer be borne. Suddenly they were both pulled into a whirlpool of surging oxytocin levels. She could almost feel the dopamine peaking in his limbic system, and her own heart pounded a chamade of vasocongestion.


(I stress the above in italics are my own interpretations of what a scientist/romance novelist might write, and not anything Dr. Gabaldon actually did. For which her readers are doubtless thankful.)


This is a time travel novel. WWII veteran nurse Claire Randall accidentally touches the wrong rock in a Scottish stone circle and finds herself suddenly catapulted from 1945 to 1743. Ms. Randall (going by her maiden name of Beauchamp, for plot reasons) does what romance novel heroines do in such situations – she finds herself all aflutter over a Handsome UNknown in Kilts, and makes herself useful to the local laird by healing the sick. She gets herself kidnapped with clockwork regularity, only to have Jamie (aforementioned HUNK) rescue her from unpleasantness at the very last minute with equal regularity. She gets her own chance to rescue her HUNK, and he Talks About His Feelings.


Nameless redcoats and rival Scots clansmen are slaughtered left and right. Claire personally accounts for four British soldiers, all with a dagger. (I wonder if Ms. Gabaldon really knows how hard it is to kill someone with a knife? Then again, since she’s got a zoology degree, she’s probably dissected a couple of large mammals; perhaps it might be prudent to avoid letting her get close with an autopsy knife. Especially if she ever reads this review). This all takes around 850 pages (in my mass-market paperback copy) but less than a year of time. There is some lip service to the thought that daily life in 18th century Scotland might not all be claymore battles and romps in the heather; nurse Claire notes that some of her patients have fleas and lice (but never manages to come down with either herself) and allows that the sanitary system, even in a laird’s castle, might be a little off-putting for a 20th century lady.


Perhaps I’m disconcerted since my own taste in romance novels is more in the light and bubbly Georgette Heyer line; maybe this is more what the average romance reader is into. Ah well, there are numerous sequels and with OCD I’ll have to read them all. Maybe Claire can intervene at Culloden and change history. We’ll see. show less

In my bedroom, next to a comfortable chair and a stand lamp, stands a small bookshelf where I keep my favourite books. In amongst Austen, Eliot, Dickens, Rothfuss, Bradbury, Pratchett, Gordimer, Coetzee, and Camus, is Outlander. I first read it some twenty years ago, when I was still married, but not since, and I wondered if it was as good a book as I remembered. So I re-read it, and discovered that my experience of reading it was not wrong, and that it was actually better the second time show more around. I've not gotten deeply lost in a story quite like I have in the past few days of reading, not for a long time. My powers of concentration have slipped over the years, but I read Outlander like I used to read when I was much, much younger. It's been bliss.

Anyone with a television probably knows the basic story of Outlander: Claire, post WWII, goes on a second honeymoon with her husband in the Scottish Highlands. A time-transporting stone circle takes Claire back to 1745, where she is swept up by circumstance by members of the MacKenzie clan, and whisked off to their stronghold: Castle Leoch. A love story ensues.

This time round, I wasn't as moved by the love story or the sex scenes. The last time I read this book, I was a 42-year old woman, with young children. Now I'm in my 60s, and found more pleasure in the historical detail and the happy realization that I don't have to live in a pre-electricity stone building during summer's heat or winter's blast. Nor do I have to use chamber pots or privy, and antibiotics now exist.

It's a beautiful book. Imaginative, well-researched, with vivid characters, beautiful scenery, Outlander has all of the elements needed for a truly great reading experience. I'm excited to start reading Dragonfly in Amber, the first of its many sequels, resting here on the sofa next to me, its contents a secret that I can't wait to discover. show less

There are those books that you read once, enjoy, are glad for the distraction provided from one’s everyday life, and then put on your shelf to gather dust, or donate to the “give one take one” shelf at work. Then there are those books that you read, sneak moments to read whenever you can, put on your shelf, take off your shelf to read again, and again. These are the books that you guiltily refuse to loan to friends for fear of not having access to them when you want to crack the cover show more next. Yet, you emphatically encourage anyone you meet to quickly read this marvelous, epic tale. The books from Diana Gabaldon’s “Outlander” series fall into this latter category.

Drums of Autumn finally brings the Fraser’s into the American Colonies. As someone who lives in North Carolina, and is married to a red-haired descendant of those European Immigrants to the North Carolina “highlands,” I love how these novels, from “Drums of Autumn” on, provide a glimpse of what life was like for my husband’s ancestors. At the same time, I find the characters to be intensely relatable with their motivations, fears, hopes, frustrations, and moments of pure joy. Gabaldon has a gift for imparting true family dynamics into her story, and making the reader feel as though she or he is member of that family, or at least a fly on the wall.

This installment has the same level of adventure and angst as its predecessors with less of the supernatural found in “Voyager.” However, adding two additional “travelers” from the 20th century allows the reader to more deeply explore the differences and similarities between the two times. Also, in the relationship between Bree and Roger Gabaldon explores some of the layers of love and brokenness that can enter into a relationship in a way that allows the reader to connect deeply to the characters.

You will not regret joining the Fraser family on their journey into the new world. show less

This is not a nice book, but it is a very good one.

To summarise, it is basically 850 pages of extremely well-written violence, sex and violent sex. And oh yeah there's some time travel thing going on too. I'm joking, loved the idea of a woman going back in time to 1743 and finding herself amid Scottish clan warfare and all the customs and superstitions of the time.

There's torture, sexual assault, witch trials and a whole lot of bloodshed. Then there's also the disturbing and highly debated show more domestic violence scene... the question being whether it really was necessary even with Diana Gabaldon's reluctance to withhold any historical nasties. It was unpleasant, definitely, but I was spared some of the horror that I might have had because I heard about it beforehand. The thing that made it so horrifying was Jamie - I mean, come on, you just love him really don't you?


^^ Me thinks yes ;)

And the whole thing was made worse for it; if it had been Dougal, Callum or Murtagh it would still have been awful but not quite so shocking. But Jamie? Sweet, caring, brave, virgin and... sadist?

But I recovered. He redeemed himself a million times over. Plus, Jamie and Claire just have a great relationship. They have the steamy sex life plus an unbelievably deep love and trust for each other... Diana Gabaldon has created amid the violence something that a thousand fluffy romance novels never achieve.

Awesome, awesome book. I've rated it 5 stars but I'm going to make a point of calling it 4.5 simply because it could have been just as good with half as many pages. I am going to read the next book, I've already reserved it at the library (yeah, I'm a total nerd :P ) but still not sure Ms Gabaldon needed to write every book with 800 pages, aka "Tolstoy syndrome". Never mind, I'm sure it'll be worth it. show less