I will begin by saying that I understand why so many people love this book. It’s huge. Thoughtful. Well-researched. Intense. Jamie Fraser may be the perfect romantic hero. Mostly. Sorta. Except for that one thing…
Anyhow. I digress. It was just too much. All of it. The writing. The description. The background. Come on – even those of you that LOVED it can’t tell me the first 20% didn’t bore you to tears. And 20% of a 600-800 page book is A LOT. And after 100-200 pages of unnecessary intro we have Scotland needlessly thrust upon us. The birds. The landscape. The little brooks and pools. Endless family members. And clan traditions. And kilt descriptions. I can say with absolute confidence that if called upon to give a fifth grade presentation on highlanders I would ace that bitch. I’m a walking encyclopedia of useless Scottish trivia.
Okay. So you survived the worthless and endless beginning. And you know all about Scotland. You’ve spent time with Jamie. He’s great. The bomb.com or what have you. And then all hell breaks loose. (I’m not getting into details here – but holy ANGST, Batman). Clearly Ms Gabaldon and GRRM use the same dating app. And while I’m cool with what goes down in the town in ole Westeros I wasn’t cool with watching it concentrated on Jamie. GRRM has 475 characters to torture. Gabaldon has 2, but no one cares about Claire.
Which brings me to the grand finale – Claire. She’s not likable. She’s self-absorbed. She talks too much. And the way she treats both Frank and Jamie didn’t endear her to me. (I’m not even going to launch into a diatribe about the Human Plot Device that was Frank – I’m too worn out from all the awful).
Sooooooo yeah. Frequently even if I don’t like a book I said I’m glad I tried. I’m not. This was hard. And not fun. I feel like I’ve been smothering under the carcass of a 900 lb dead bear lying in the sun. I need fresh air. And to laugh. Mostly just to breathe – and to walk away from this entire incident.