Outlander | A Review

Outlander

by Diana Gabaldon 

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The year is 1945. Claire Randall, a former combat nurse, is just back from the war and reunited with her husband on a second honeymoon when she walks through a standing stone in one of the ancient circles that dot the British Isles. Suddenly she is a Sassenach—an “outlander”—in a Scotland torn by war and raiding border clans in the year of Our Lord…1743.

Hurled back in time by forces she cannot understand, Claire is catapulted into the intrigues of lairds and spies that may threaten her life, and shatter her heart. For here James Fraser, a gallant young Scots warrior, shows her a love so absolute that Claire becomes a woman torn between fidelity and desire—and between two vastly different men in two irreconcilable lives.

 

 

First published in the early 90s and made fantastically popular by the 2014 HBO television series, Outlander by Diana Gabaldon has become one of the most talked about and well-loved historical fiction series within the world of books. Though it took a concerted effort to avoid spoilers over the last seven years, I made the effort happily. Based on what I’d heard of the series, the atmospheric setting, and the enthusiasm for the characters I’d seen from readers for years, I was sure Outlander was a novel I would love.

With such a fantastically intriguing foundation to build a story upon—a woman from 1945 mysteriously and accidentally time travels back to the Scottish Highlands in 1743 through an ancient stone formation—it’s a wonder that this book fell so utterly, completely flat. While its status as a historical fiction novel with fantasy elements was made clear from the start (as opposed to leaning more heavily on the fantasy elements), Outlander looked its own potential to be something great in the face and ignored it. Scottish lore and mythology are a rich well to dip into. Even dipping into it a small amount as it did should’ve made for a book with underlying mysticism, a quiet but insistent voice throughout the narrative reminding readers that something unexplainable was afoot. Instead, the time-traveling mysticism within Outlander was used only as a catalyst for an otherwise unremarkable and boring story. Having started strong with building intrigue and mention of such elements within the first 60 or so pages, it was surprising to see it nearly abandoned once Claire actually time traveled. Without leaning too heavily on magical or mythological elements that could turn the novel into something other than historical fiction, these elements could’ve absolutely been used to create intrigue and depth within the plot, characters, and prose. It didn’t have to overshadow any other aspect of the novel and could have strengthened them, in fact. However, the magic, mythology, and mysticism (and all the intrigue they brought with them) came to life for only the briefest of moments in Outlander and were promptly disregarded for the overwhelming majority of the 600 pages that followed.

With each page blatantly ignoring the questions it brought to readers’ attention with the very premise of the novel, Outlander settled into a routine of rather dull days following Claire around the Scottish Highlands. In retrospect, I dislike the reading experience perhaps more than I did when actually reading it. Not yet impatient for its end and not yet aware of how little the story would do, I was interested in the page-level developments. However, the more I read, the less I could ignore the question that had been bubbling up steadily over the past several hundred pages: What is the plot of this novel? It hardly seemed the entire plot could be so focused on Claire’s unrealistic adjustment to life with a Scottish clan. The whole of the novel focused on her day-to-day as she settled into her new life, dealt with the politics of the clans, and her developing romance with Jamie Fraser. This could’ve been fine; these subjects should’ve provided enough to weave an interesting, eventful tale. However, none of these came together on a large enough scale to make any true impact. It was gratuitous event after gratuitous event; the only culmination of any sort came in the form of the romance. This is a historical fiction novel that focuses heavily on the romance, but it shouldn’t rely on the romance to carry the fact that it did very little else with the leads it gave readers. Don’t bring clan politics or time-travel and the mystery behind it into the story if you don’t plan on doing anything worthwhile with them. Every action scene or scene with any sort of intrigue or excitement fell flat, coming off as simply there to combat the claim that nothing exciting happened. It makes for a frustrating reading experience; reading and reading, just waiting for something to come together in a way that revealed the overall drive and plot of this novel. It never happened. Claire was just moved around from place to place, adjusting unrealistically well to the rough landscape and even rougher living conditions. While certain things were out of her control (in a strange, dangerous place, unsure of how she got there, in a time when women had essentially no independence or rights), it’s understandable that she couldn’t run off and get to the bottom of anything on her own. What is decidedly not understandable is that these life-altering occurrences were barely thought of by Claire. The mystery of how it happened should’ve driven the plot and her actions (as much as it could), it should have suffused Claire’s narrative with emotions beyond that of reluctant but simple acceptance of the situation, it should’ve fueled something within her to figure out what was going on. Unfortunately, the few moments within Outlander that hinted at that initial intrigue and an overall plot came far too late in the book and were far too vague to save the rest of this over 600-page novel from its own utter mediocrity. 

Convenience and using dramatic occurrences as catalysts to get the story rolling only for the initial implications to be abandoned were recurring issues throughout Outlander. While the main character, Claire, was generally likable enough as to not be actively unlikable, she was hardly a character worth raving about. As the story progressed, so did my frustration with Claire. While I was willing to accept her lack of thought for her husband back in 1945 as part of the initial surge of panic of having time traveled and her focus on survival, I could only accept it for so long before it became odd and glaringly convenient for the story that needed to unfold: Claire’s romance with Jamie. Claire and her husband’s history allows for believability in regards to her own independence and lack of reliance on him, but it does not account for the way it was handled within the storytelling. This lack of attention within the narrative to the simple insanity of her situation affected Claire’s character development. Her emotions, motivations, doubts, and worries should’ve all been explored within the inner monologue. While these aspects of her character were far from being completely ignored, the focus only went so far and lacked true emotional depth. Too much character contemplation slows the story and drags down the narrative, however Outlander was far from a book concerned with pacing and needed to use Claire’s thoughts about the situation to add real depth to her instead of just showing her initial reactions and relying on her ability to adjust alarmingly well to any given situation to provide readers with all they needed to know about her. In a word, it was—like so much of Outlander—convenient. Convenient to have a character who adapts so well that the author doesn’t need to explore the feelings or flesh out the necessary details that could derail the emotional connection with Jamie that needed to unfold. 

Claire was very much a character who lacked agency; she was moved around like a pawn and did very little to actually effect the overall “plot” of the novel. While understandable that the circumstances of the time and her position within them restricted her every move, what grated against me was the lack of drive to learn anything or do anything about what had happened. She was very accepting of her new life and fell into a rhythm too quickly. That’s not to say that she never resisted, fought, or stood up for herself—she certainly did—but the moments hardly culminated in anything. It was shallow resistance, the kind that only exists within a story to prove to detractors that the character did have a backbone, they did do all the things I’m saying they didn’t, but it means nothing when it has such little impact on the overall story. I couldn’t relate to this lack of drive and simple acceptance. It turned a likable enough character into someone I was continually frustrated with. 

Similarly to Claire, Jamie was likable but not enough to inspire even the most modest of raves about him. Even considering the fact that we’re judging him against a brutal, though not wholly bad, clan of men who have little to no respect for Claire as a human being, Jamie is just not worth raving about. He was a mostly nice man, often kind and considerate, who seemed genuinely good for the most part. However, the fact that he was willing to treat Claire like, you know, a person is the lowest standard for a man possible and will not earn this reader’s praise or adoration. While men who treat women with respect and as absolute equals within fictional romances can be worthy of celebrating, this respect is the most basic foundation within a relationship. Claire and Jamie’s romance lacked interest. While I think the novel played with some interesting dynamics, it wasn’t a relationship I cared about.

My real issue with Jamie is only a piece of a larger issue I have with Outlander—the treatment of women and Claire’s astounding lack of care for it. I cannot fault the book for being historically accurate and portraying the treatment of women realistically, however it makes for a frustrating reading experience as a woman to watch a modern, intelligent, independent woman (in terms of the 1940s) accept this treatment and make choices that kept her in this landscape with raging, dangerously misogynistic men. Claire occasionally stood up for herself and never shied away from owning just how smart and capable she was and that deserves recognition, but she was largely forgiving of the behavior around her. I understand she could not do anything about it without putting herself in serious danger, but it went beyond the fact that she was just trying to survive. Choices of hers drew a sharp line between myself and her. It became a major, major disconnect for me as a reader. I would never allow myself to stay in such an environment, even if the people around me were kind. The fact that Jamie was still a man of his era, as much as he respected Claire, meant that he still took advantage of his “right” to give her commands to obey and resorted to physical “discipline.” All of Claire’s safety came down to Jamie, all of her worth boiled down to her position by his side. What modern woman (of 1945, who had lived a life completely independent of her husband’s during the war as a nurse, who was intelligent and free) would ever give that up? If an author is going to be so audacious to make the main character choose a life that puts them in constant danger as a woman for no other reason than a man, they need to make the romance seem worth it in readers’ minds. While I would’ve been hard to convince even if Jamie was a literal god, Outlander’s romance was far from worthy of such risk and suffocation. 

While slower novels with less defined plots can make for wonderful reading, they need to rely on incredible writing in order to do so. I am no stranger to books that take their time plot-wise, but they are beautifully written, atmospheric, and full of quiet, building intrigue. Outlander fell short on all the points that could make a long, slow book worthwhile. While not poorly written, Outlander’s prose was not such that I wanted to sink into it and spend my time with it. It got the job done and, in many cases, failed to deliver the impact I would’ve liked from more emotionally-driven or action-driven scenes. 

Outlander was an underwhelming reading experience. There wasn’t enough big-picture plotting to make the day-to-day focus worthwhile. It’s worth repeating that while my irritations and disappointment with the novel grew as I read, it wasn’t a wholly unenjoyable read. I did not hate it while I read it, but my disappointment and dislikes have sharpened further now that I am no longer swamped down within its pages. After over 600 pages of mediocrity, Outlander is a series easily walked away from.