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A review by chluless
Outlander by Diana Gabaldon
slow-paced
2.0
I fear this may become more of a rant than a review. I have thoughts.
So. Many. Thoughts.
I went into Outlander expecting historical fiction with a romantic plot line, and elements of fantasy from the time-travel framing. Instead, I found romance dressed up in the historical genre with little more than a passing mention of time travel.
Gabaldon clearly did her research in some aspects as much of the historical details and descriptions of daily life in the 1700s were incredibly interesting, and the passages I enjoyed most occurred in the quieter rhythms of different households visited by Claire, or in the workings of the Castle and the Monastery.
However, this aspect of the novel was weakened by a lack of political context, missed anachronisms, and some implausible moments inserted for the sake of convenience or comedy. Unfortunately, many of these comedic moments did not appeal to my sense of humour and carried uncomfortably crude or honestly just bizarre undertones.
While I did enjoy a number of the capture and rescue scenes, such as the witch trial and Wentworth Prison break, the sheer repetitiveness of the capture - torture - rescue formula quickly became draining.
Speaking of repetition, I should make it clear that romance is at the forefront of this novel. These moments which I found the most engaging are sandwiched between chapters upon chapters of Claire/Jamie smut interspersed with Claire’s fits of shallow guilt for adultery, pre-relationship jealousy (while supposedly happily married to Frank until a few weeks ago?), and her waxing poetic about how physically imposing Jamie is. It really does read à la Adam Driver <b>*sorry*</b> Adam <i>Carlsen</i> from Ali Hazelwood’s ‘The Love Hypothesis.’
On the subject of Claire and Jamie’s relationship, its emotional depth is overshadowed by a range of factors. Firstly, the one-sided nature of Jamie sharing tales from his own life and a startling lack of reciprocation for Claire. I understand that she’s restricted by hiding her secret in the beginning, but even by the end of 800 pages, I can recall shockingly little about her.
Secondly, I care very little for Claire's (and the narrative’s) obsession with Jamie as appealingly savage, nor for the repeated commentary on how ‘young’ and naive he is compared to Claire. The man is 23, and Claire is 26 at the time of their marriage. She’s certainly not an old woman, and he is an adult man. So why is Jamie’s age mentioned obsessively throughout the first half, and Claire’s hidden beneath this rhetoric until the random revelation that it’s her 27th birthday and then promptly never mentioned again?
There is perhaps another year to give or take from these ages as, like many other occurrences in the book, there are discrepancies in the timeline that don’t always make sense.
But onto the third factor: domestic violence, marital rape, Jamie finding pleasure in both, and Claire’s almost instant dismissal of both.
Personally, I found some of the side characters the most well-written in terms of complexity and moral greyness. Dougal, Colum, and Geillis are no angels, yet I found them far more interesting than Jamie and Claire’s relationship drama. Moral greyness aside, Mrs. Fitzgibbons, Murtagh, Jenny, and Brother Anselm were also some of my favourite characters.
I wish Geillis had been utilised as more than a <b>[SPOILER: dangling carrot for the abandoned time-travel plot point]</b>, she had so much potential and allowed Claire to interact with Highland folklore and customs to an extent that has not been replicated since.
Another aspect of the book I haven’t seen much discussion of is the thick streak of homophobia that only grows worse as the narrative unfolds. I gave it the benefit of the doubt for FAR too long.
It begins under the guise of comedy, with tales of the Duke of Sandringham (the only gay character other than Randall) groping and pursuing sixteen-year-old Jamie to the point of him stealing laxatives from the castle kitchen out of desperation to evade the Duke’s next attack. The entire disturbing episode is treated as a joke, and the Duke is viewed as harmless yet inescapably predatory.
The real developments concern Black Jack Randall.
My final straw came as the author associated Randall (the only prominent LGBT character & the cartoonish big villain of the book) with the scent of LAVENDER on both his person and his “bedding,” noted in the context of Claire (without Jamie’s consent or consulting with anybody at all!!) enacting the extremely questionable psychological ‘treatment’ of forcing Jamie to re-live his torture and sexual assault with the manipulation of her role-playing his attacker and putting him under the influence of a heavy dose of opium.
Yes, lavender is a common scented water, but its synonymous nature with the LGBT community is so entrenched in Western culture (and US history) that, for a book written in the 90s, the only excuse can be negligence at best.
Later, it is revealed that Randall called out another man’s name during the assault, then beat Jamie as he rages at this other man to admit he loves him back. Of the numerous assaults depicted in this book - even those enacted by Randall - it is only this one that is given any semblance of backstory or nuance. Every aspect of this plotline adds to a larger, and incredibly distasteful picture.
And before anyone comes for me, I am NOT convinced by the argument that Randall is driven by ONLY sadism and not sexuality. These arguments either present him as indiscriminate (read: bi or pansexual) which again uses negative tropes, fail to account for both Claire and Jenny’s observations that his body displays a lack of interest in them as he attempts to assault them, and also ignore Randall’s stated desire for Jamie (which includes Jamie telling Claire that Randall is jealous of her - his wife).
Honestly, I would not have made it to the end without Davina Porter’s outstanding audio narration.
So. Many. Thoughts.
I went into Outlander expecting historical fiction with a romantic plot line, and elements of fantasy from the time-travel framing. Instead, I found romance dressed up in the historical genre with little more than a passing mention of time travel.
Gabaldon clearly did her research in some aspects as much of the historical details and descriptions of daily life in the 1700s were incredibly interesting, and the passages I enjoyed most occurred in the quieter rhythms of different households visited by Claire, or in the workings of the Castle and the Monastery.
However, this aspect of the novel was weakened by a lack of political context, missed anachronisms, and some implausible moments inserted for the sake of convenience or comedy. Unfortunately, many of these comedic moments did not appeal to my sense of humour and carried uncomfortably crude or honestly just bizarre undertones.
While I did enjoy a number of the capture and rescue scenes, such as the witch trial and Wentworth Prison break, the sheer repetitiveness of the capture - torture - rescue formula quickly became draining.
Speaking of repetition, I should make it clear that romance is at the forefront of this novel. These moments which I found the most engaging are sandwiched between chapters upon chapters of Claire/Jamie smut interspersed with Claire’s fits of shallow guilt for adultery, pre-relationship jealousy (while supposedly happily married to Frank until a few weeks ago?), and her waxing poetic about how physically imposing Jamie is. It really does read à la Adam Driver <b>*sorry*</b> Adam <i>Carlsen</i> from Ali Hazelwood’s ‘The Love Hypothesis.’
On the subject of Claire and Jamie’s relationship, its emotional depth is overshadowed by a range of factors. Firstly, the one-sided nature of Jamie sharing tales from his own life and a startling lack of reciprocation for Claire. I understand that she’s restricted by hiding her secret in the beginning, but even by the end of 800 pages, I can recall shockingly little about her.
Secondly, I care very little for Claire's (and the narrative’s) obsession with Jamie as appealingly savage, nor for the repeated commentary on how ‘young’ and naive he is compared to Claire. The man is 23, and Claire is 26 at the time of their marriage. She’s certainly not an old woman, and he is an adult man. So why is Jamie’s age mentioned obsessively throughout the first half, and Claire’s hidden beneath this rhetoric until the random revelation that it’s her 27th birthday and then promptly never mentioned again?
There is perhaps another year to give or take from these ages as, like many other occurrences in the book, there are discrepancies in the timeline that don’t always make sense.
But onto the third factor: domestic violence, marital rape, Jamie finding pleasure in both, and Claire’s almost instant dismissal of both.
Personally, I found some of the side characters the most well-written in terms of complexity and moral greyness. Dougal, Colum, and Geillis are no angels, yet I found them far more interesting than Jamie and Claire’s relationship drama. Moral greyness aside, Mrs. Fitzgibbons, Murtagh, Jenny, and Brother Anselm were also some of my favourite characters.
I wish Geillis had been utilised as more than a <b>[SPOILER: dangling carrot for the abandoned time-travel plot point]</b>, she had so much potential and allowed Claire to interact with Highland folklore and customs to an extent that has not been replicated since.
Another aspect of the book I haven’t seen much discussion of is the thick streak of homophobia that only grows worse as the narrative unfolds. I gave it the benefit of the doubt for FAR too long.
It begins under the guise of comedy, with tales of the Duke of Sandringham (the only gay character other than Randall) groping and pursuing sixteen-year-old Jamie to the point of him stealing laxatives from the castle kitchen out of desperation to evade the Duke’s next attack. The entire disturbing episode is treated as a joke, and the Duke is viewed as harmless yet inescapably predatory.
The real developments concern Black Jack Randall.
My final straw came as the author associated Randall (the only prominent LGBT character & the cartoonish big villain of the book) with the scent of LAVENDER on both his person and his “bedding,” noted in the context of Claire (without Jamie’s consent or consulting with anybody at all!!) enacting the extremely questionable psychological ‘treatment’ of forcing Jamie to re-live his torture and sexual assault with the manipulation of her role-playing his attacker and putting him under the influence of a heavy dose of opium.
Yes, lavender is a common scented water, but its synonymous nature with the LGBT community is so entrenched in Western culture (and US history) that, for a book written in the 90s, the only excuse can be negligence at best.
Later, it is revealed that Randall called out another man’s name during the assault, then beat Jamie as he rages at this other man to admit he loves him back. Of the numerous assaults depicted in this book - even those enacted by Randall - it is only this one that is given any semblance of backstory or nuance. Every aspect of this plotline adds to a larger, and incredibly distasteful picture.
And before anyone comes for me, I am NOT convinced by the argument that Randall is driven by ONLY sadism and not sexuality. These arguments either present him as indiscriminate (read: bi or pansexual) which again uses negative tropes, fail to account for both Claire and Jenny’s observations that his body displays a lack of interest in them as he attempts to assault them, and also ignore Randall’s stated desire for Jamie (which includes Jamie telling Claire that Randall is jealous of her - his wife).
Honestly, I would not have made it to the end without Davina Porter’s outstanding audio narration.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Domestic abuse, Misogyny, Rape, Sexism, Sexual assault, Sexual content, Sexual violence, Violence, Kidnapping, and Sexual harassment
Moderate: Homophobia and Infertility