Chapter 6: Colum's Hall

In this chapter, I am less impressed with Jamie than perhaps I am supposed to be.

Question: How do you pronounce the word "plaid"? I have only ever heard "PLAD," rhyming with bad. But Davina Porter, the narrator of the audiobooks, says "PLADE," rhyming with blade. Is this a legit regional/archaic pronunciation? I only ask because she's going to say it approximately 1,000 times over the next 30+ hours and I'm not sure whether I should be annoyed.

Claire goes to dinner in the hall, where she meets Colum's wife, Letitia, and his son, Hamish. I find Letitia intriguing and hope she has more to do in the book than in the show.

The two teenage girls next to Dougal, who giggled and poked each other when introduced to me, were his daughters, Margaret and Eleanor.

Dougal has kids? 

In a reversal from chapter 1, Claire finds herself pleased to see smoked herring, which is at least a familiar food. She also shows off her background in archaeology with an internal monologue that notes that "runcible spoons would not be in general use for quite a few years yet." Claire Beauchamp, inventor of the dinner fork.

Wee Hamish gets her with a "Ye've not said grace yet," a move which has opened many an awkward gathering among my own extended family. A quick internet search reveals that Hamish's prayer, the "Selkirk Grace," existed in some form before Robert Burns, perhaps in the Lowlands, and perhaps among the Covenanters. Wee Hamish: Covenanter? Probably not. Oh, God. Are there going to be Covenanters in these books? I am going to have flashbacks to my general examinations in grad school. It was not a happy time for me.

Claire asks about Jamie. Colum and Dougal share some cryptic conversation regarding Jamie's trustworthiness, with Colum of the opinion that they should be keeping a very close eye on him.

I resolved to seek out the young man in question in the morning, just to assure myself that he was as suitably cared for as could be managed.

Sure, Claire. When you have to justify something to yourself in your own private thoughts, you can be sure that your motives are pure.

In the morning, Mrs. Fitz comes in for another round of Claire's toilet, complete with lead-based cosmetics. Claire gets gussied up for "Hall," which is apparently what they call Colum's court.

Claire mentions that a piper is playing in the hall. As a fife player myself, I can attest that people do not generally enjoy martial instruments played in an enclosed, echo-y space. 

So it was deliberate, this flaunting of his twisted legs and ungainly waddle on the long progress to his seat. Deliberate, too, the contrast with his tall, straight-bodied younger brother, who looked neither to left nor to right, but walked straight behind Colum to the wooden chair and took up his station standing close behind.

Interesting. Colum is in charge, unapologetic, and a showman. This question of two people complementing one another to do what neither could do alone is, I think, an important theme here.

Most of the cases adjudicated by Colum are conducted in Gaelic. As much as I wanted to know what they were saying in the TV show, I'm glad that they didn't subtitle it. Very helpful in identifying with Claire's alienation.

Claire's case is fifth on the docket. Dougal gets up and presents an oral petition to Colum, repeating most of Claire's story as she told it to Colum. No doubt, people in the hall will take it as some version of the truth. But he also emphasizes that she is English, not French, which will make people more suspicious of her. Colum makes a public declaration that she will be a guest, but it is clear that she is not free to leave.

Next up: Laoghaire, the teenage girl accused of "loose behavior" by her father. Colum orders her whipped, but Jamie steps in to take her beating for her.

This makes approximately no sense. In fact, it makes me suspect that one of the following is true:

1. Jamie is sleeping with Laoghaire.
2. Jamie is his own worst enemy.
3. Jamie enjoys being hit as much as Black Jack Randall enjoys hitting him.

I know, of course, that this is supposed to make Jamie appear chivalrous and heroic and all that. But it just makes me suspicious. Like, is he stupid? Or just dangerously reckless? If he were sleeping with Laoghaire, I would get that, but even then, this seems a bad time to admit that in front of everyone? Reading this, I am puzzled as to why Laoghaire's father doesn't make them get married on the spot. Though I guess Jamie did just arrive at the castle, so he can't have been the one she was caught with (unless he didn't spend last night in the stables after all?).

Mrs. Fitz points out that Jamie is wearing a non-MacKenzie tartan. Clearly, this has significance for onlookers other than Claire and the reader. Was the clan-specific tartan really a thing in the 18th century? I thought it was a 19th-century romantic invention. But maybe based on something historical?

It was a scientific beating, skillfully engineered to inflict bruising pain, but not to disable or maim.

Wait, this giant bruiser is Angus? I will have to adjust my mental picture of Angus. Though I do love ShowAngus.

Claire goes to tend Jamie's wounds and interrogate him about his apparent stupidity.

I felt a certain diffidence about asking, but I really wanted to know what lay behind that quixotic gesture.

This is one of my favorite things about this character. This is not the first time she has said, "I know it's not very feminine to be so nosy, but I really reeeeeeally want to know, so damn the confines of 'ladylike' behavior."

Jamie answers that he took the beating to spare the girl's pride. Which, ok, I guess. I suppose he knows his way around public corporal punishment. But I am not convinced that this is evidence of "something special in the way of guts" rather than "something special in the way of an inappropriate lack of self-preservation."

Mrs. Fitz:

"Och, here ye are, lad! I see ye've found your healer already."

Well, if anyone was ever in need of his own personal healer, I guess it's Jamie. Though I object to Claire being re-imagined as his sidekick. It's not your story, Jamie.

Mrs. Fitz teaches Claire how to use leeches. They discuss various other treatments for bleeding, all of which I'm sure will come in handy.

Mrs. Fitz also thanks Jamie for taking the beating — apparently, Laoghaire is her granddaughter. Is there some significance to Laoghaire's name? I mean, is having a name that is deliberately difficult for the reader of an English-language novel supposed to signify something about the character? Is she of a particular class or family background? It just seems like Diana Gabaldon may be trying to signal something like that when Dougal's daughters are named Margaret and Eleanor, while Mrs. Fitz's granddaughter is named Laoghaire. But I don't know enough about Scottish names to know what that may be.

"Though she had better thank ye herself, if she's any manners at all."

Indeed.

Laoghaire shows up for the aforementioned display of gratitude and Claire is thinking along the same lines as everyone else.

I left the courtyard, wondering whether in fact his gallant gesture had been quite so altruistic as I supposed.

True enough, Claire. Though it occurs to me that the fastest way to get YOUR attention is to start bleeding. And Jamie may have noticed that, too.

The next day, Mrs. Fitz shows Claire around the herb gardens and tells her more useful things about botanical medicines. They send a boy to fetch Jamie so Claire can tend his wounds.

"'He says,' panted the boy, 'as 'e doesna hurt bad enough to need doctorin', but thank ye for yer consairn."

So maybe he was after Laoghaire after all?

Not one to be brushed off lightly, Claire brings Jamie his lunch. He tells her all about living rough in the woods, surviving by eating grass. Claire seems to find this story charming, so much so that she forgets all about checking his shoulder. I remain unconvinced. After this chapter, I am inclined to regard Jamie as brave in a stupid way, not an endearing way — the kind of person who is dangerous to be around. Which is why I'll never be a romantic heroine, I suppose. It's all well and good for Claire to like him, though I think that recklessness does not square with Frank's assessment that she is "terrifyingly practical."

Body Count:

Jamie: 3

Chapter 5: The MacKenzie

In this chapter, Claire meets Colum MacKenzie, who is not impressed.

Claire wakes up at Castle Leoch, disoriented, but safe (for the moment).

I sipped it, feeling like the survivor of some major bombing raid.

I'm glad that the book continually reminds us that even though Claire is having a hell of a time at the moment, her travels are somewhat analogous to her recent experiences in WWII. She is in a crisis, but she is familiar with a long-running state of emergency, even if the particulars are unfamiliar.

This is the scene where Mrs. Fitz dresses Claire. One of my favorite scenes from the show. I grew up in a family that spent summers on the "living history" circuit, so I am intimately familiar with ye old undergarments. Fun fact: women used to wear split-crotch drawers. They are . . . breezy. This is an important scene for Claire's transition — you really do feel different in the clothing of a different century. Here she is, stripped down to nothing and rebuilt. Beyond that, I loved the way the TV show showed female nudity in a way that was just normal, everyday life, not a sex scene (or even a sexy scene). She was just getting dressed and it was no big deal, but that sort of scene was so different from most of the female nudity I've seen on TV.

In fact, this may have been the scene where I realized that I was watching a TV show aimed at ME (demographically speaking, at least — I imagine that historians of the early modern Atlantic are quite a small audience). I have watched and enjoyed shows like Game of Thrones and Breaking Bad. But there's always a step of removal watching them, just little things that are alienating, or, at least, not particularly speaking to my experiences/problems/interests. This scene — Claire naked because she's getting dressed, not because somebody wants to fuck her — made me sit up and take notice of this show.

Anyway.

Mrs. Fitz clucks over Claire's hair just as Mrs. Baird did, though with some extra rape talk thrown in there. Not threats, just observations about the safety of traveling openly as a woman.

Castle Leoch is a refuge from the Redcoats, but Claire's problem now is dealing with "Himself," Colum MacKenzie. Or rather "Colum ban Campbell MacKenzie." Does that mean that Colum and Dougal's mother was a Campbell? That could be important at some point.

Recalling Frank's advice about the importance of sticking to the truth (as far as possible) during an interrogation, Claire feeds Colum MacKenzie the same story about traveling to France via Inverness. Which, frankly, sounds as bullshitty as it is.

Colum believes her no more than he should, but focuses in on her state of undress:

"And even with such things as I've heard of Captain Randall, I'd be surprised to hear that an officer in the English army was in the habit of raping stray travelers."

Really, Colum? I mean, surely he has heard a version of the story of Black Jack's attack on Jenny. Is he really surprised, or just trying to mess with Claire?

He blinked, taken aback by my language.

Atta girl Claire. Just keep that foul mouth running and you'll be ok.

Anyway, Claire ends up as a guest/prisoner at Leoch and I don't have much more to say about this chapter. Other than noting that I think the TV dialogue was better: "Is there ever a good reason for rape, Master MacKenzie?" It makes a good point and offers us something to ponder as we discuss the many, many rapes in this book.

Body Count:

Jamie: 3

Chapter 4: I Come to the Castle

In this chapter, we continue our explorations of the rapeteenth century.

By the standards I was becoming used to, it was quite dull.

I like snotty Claire. It's not that she's prissy — she's quite willing to wade through whatever filth needs to be dealt with — but she will certainly think something snide while she's doing it. And, more often than not, there's no filter between brain and mouth. It makes her fun to read, though I am perpetually worried that someone is going to smash her teeth in for her.

Claire and her captors are on the road to Castle Leoch. Claire observes that the place is no fairy tale castle, but "more like an enormous fortified house."

I say this without fear of contradiction . . .

I'm still puzzling a bit over the voice of this book. Is Claire telling this story to someone? It's first person, but told in the past tense, and with some of these asides that makes it sound as if she might be writing in a journal or telling the tale to someone.

When I had known it, Castle Leoch was a picturesque ruin, some thirty miles north of Bargrennan.

I've tried looking these places up on Google Maps in order to build a mental geography for myself, but have found that it is not very helpful. There is a town called Bargrennan in Scotland, but it is much farther south than any of this. Thirty miles north of Bargrennan would still put you well south of Glasgow. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I was beginning to accept the impossible idea that I was, most likely, somewhere in the eighteenth century.

She comes to this realization mostly because everything is so filthy. I approve of this.

Claire meets Mistress FitzGibbons, who "started back as though bitten by a snake" at the sight of Claire in her 20th-century duds.

Claire convinces Mrs. Fitz that she is some sort of healer and that she must see to Jamie's wounds immediately. They find a cozy fireside and Claire tries to figure out how to fight infection with herbs and garlic.

In this first encounter, we find Mrs. Fitz to be a competent, straightforward woman who both respects Claire and anticipates her needs, for example, bringing the herbs Claire requests, along with some that she thinks of on her own. Claire seems to forge good relationships with older women of this temperament (like Mrs. Graham), and I'm hopeful that Mrs. Fitz will be a friend to her. At this point, I'm still wary of Jamie, who is just one of Dougal's guys as far as I'm concerned.

There are some descriptions of oozing wounds and "a soft crackling of dried blood" and it occurs to me that there are going to be A LOT of disgusting descriptions in this book. I watched large portions of the show through my fingers, so we'll see if I can get through these.

For example, the next passage, in which we are introduced to Jamie's scarred back. Claire takes it in, noting the "irregular patches where several blows had struck the same spot, flaying off skin and gouging the muscle beneath." Ug, that flogging scene in the TV show.

"If he was not precisely joyous, he was at least verra pleased with himself . . . Randall was the name."

Hmm. Claire might have some difficulties readjusting to her 20th-century life even if she were able to get back at this early stage. It would be uncomfortable to see the face of your would-be rapist (who enjoys flogging people half to death) whenever you looked at your own husband.

Could someone related to my sweet gentle Frank possibly be capable of inflicting the horrifying marks on this lad's back?

Of course. This reminds me of those genealogy-based shows where celebrities trace their family trees and make perplexing statements about the heritability of all manner of personality traits. It's one thing to have family legends about an ancestor's stubborn determination or gentle kindness that can help shape the descendants' ethics. But the people on these shows are usually uncovering ancestors and stories they've never heard of before. They say silly things like, "Now I know where I got my commitment to animals" when they find out that their great-great-great grandfather raised sheep. With this book's demonstrated interest in adoption/genealogy/family, I am anticipating further discussion of this question, though I'm not sure it's off to a promising start. I am skeptical about any individual person resembling their 6x great-grandparent in any way, physical or otherwise.

"'Why were you flogged?' I asked abruptly. It was hardly tactful, but I badly wanted to know, and was too tired to phrase it more gently."

God bless, Claire. Your near total lack of tact is refreshing.

Claire and Jamie discuss his flogging. We are treated to the juxtaposition of Jamie's appearance "shirtless, scarred, and blood-smeared" and his gentle joking. I suppose he seems nice enough, but he's right that Claire is bolder than wisdom might dictate in allowing herself to be alone with him.

Claire is good at her job. She's treated many wounded men, and she keeps Jamie talking in order to keep him occupied while she works. This is a convenient means of giving us backstory, but it is also believable and unobtrusive.

We hear the story of the day Black Jack Randall came to Jamie's home (which he refers to as "our place" in an effort to remain somewhat anonymous to Claire). We get the first mention of Jenny — everyone's favorite character, as far as I can tell. Unfortunately, she is having a bad time with Black Jack in this flashback.

"But there's other cures for other cats, aren't there, my sweet pussy?"

"I couldna move much, but I shouted to her that I wasna hurt — and I wasn't, too much — and that she was not to go with him, not if they cut my throat before her eyes."

This seems like one of those things that's meant to be gallant, but comes off sort of shitty. He's putting Jenny in a position of responsibility for the outcome of this situation: if she struggles and Black Jack kills her brother, it's her fault, if she doesn't struggle, her brother might live, but will reproach her. Don't put this on her, Jamie. 

"I made to call out to my sister, to tell her that I'd much prefer to die than have her dishonor herself wi' such scum."

Um, Jamie, what do you think would happen if they killed you? They'd just ride away and leave her alone? Stop talking.

Anyway, Jenny goes with Black Jack, which Jamie seems to regard as the wrong choice.

"I'm sorry. It must have been terrible for you."

Yes, Jenny getting raped is truly a terrible experience for JAMIE.

I had not slept with many men other than my husband . . .

Interesting. Are we to take this as a reference to Claire's teenage sex life (pre-marriage), rather than evidence that she had sex with other men during the war?

Claire goes on a bit about how sleeping next to another person is an act of trust: "simple sleep could bring you closer together than the joining of bodies." I think this is bullshit. There is nothing more intimate than the mutual awkwardness/humiliation inherent to sex.

Her mind wanders and she starts thinking about Frank and Black Jack Randall again, finally deciding that Black Jack "was not necessarily bound to resemble his descendants in conduct." Would have thought this was immediately obvious.

Thinking of Frank makes Claire realize that he's probably desperately worried about her. She's had a rough couple of days and is running low on emotional fortitude, so she ends up weeping into Jamie's shoulder (presumably the not-mangled one?). 

If I were a horse, I'd let him ride me anywhere.

Indeed.

It turns out that Jamie is "not completely exhausted after all," and there is an awkward moment where that fact "was becoming embarrassingly obvious to both of us." Claire jumps up, but Jamie kindly takes a moment to reassure her that he won't rape her. He's just really turned on by crying.

"You need somethin' hot, lass."

Indeed.

They have a snack and then Claire heads off to bed with a reminder that someone will be along to interrogate her soon.

Final thought: Again, I am impressed with the faithfulness of the TV adaptation of this chapter. I think that the written word was more successful in focusing my attention on the sexual tension between Claire and Jamie, though. For one thing, the erection bit can't really be translated exactly on TV. They play the awkward beat fine, but it's not as specific. For another thing, in the TV show, there is just so much to look at! The set and costumes are so detailed and beautiful that I was taking in a lot of visual information in addition to the sensual play of firelight over Jamie's once-again bare flesh. At this point, the TV viewer is getting the first glimpse of the 18th century that's more than "dark hut" or "dudes in the woods." I found that the written word did not require me to acclimate to the new material world in the same way, so the focus on the character interactions was tighter.

Body Count:

Jamie: 3

Chapter 3: The Man in the Wood

In this chapter, we learn that the 18th century is a terrifying shitstorm of violence and misogyny.

Claire is unhurt, but disoriented after traveling through the stones. She hears gunfire and sees redcoats chasing men in kilts and thinks she must be in the middle of a film shoot.

She tries to get away, but is soon captured by a man she thinks is Frank. Nope, it's Black Jack Randall! Apparently, an uncanny family resemblance can be passed down through 6 or 7 generations.

Claire runs, Black Jack chases her. Knocks her to the ground.

He ground his hips hard against mine, and his hands pinned my shoulders to the earth. My mouth fell open in outrage.

Is this our first attempted rape? Would it be possible to keep an accurate count for the whole novel?

Black Jack calls Claire "Chuckie" and "Chuck." Why? I do not know.

I screamed directly into his earhole, and he jerked as though I had run a hot wire into it.

My daughter did this to me once. It is indeed painful and triggers an instinct-driven protective response. I'm surprised Black Jack didn't throw Claire into a bush.

They go back and forth, her trying to get away, him trying to deduce whether she is, in fact, a prostitute. 

There was a sudden whoosh from above, followed immediately by a blur before my eyes and a dull thud . . . The Captain's struggling legs, shiny in tall brown boots, relaxed quite suddenly.

Kill it! Murtagh, man, you have this one shot. Slit his throat. Bash him with a rock. Stab him through the belly. You already know who you're dealing with here — you can definitely spare the 15 seconds it would take you to deal with Black Jack Randall once and for all. Assuming this is Murtagh, as it is in the show. I guess we don't know that yet.

Maybe-Murtagh drags Claire away. At one point, he pushes her to the ground and rolls on top of her. "Not again!" Claire thinks. This is not really an attempted rape, just an attempt to shut Claire up so that she doesn't draw the Redcoats' attention. But Claire doesn't experience it that way, at least not at first, so I'm ok chalking this up as sort of attempted rape #2, if only because it's important to realize how many times Claire is bludgeoned over the head with a sense of her own vulnerability. 

Of course, Claire is then actually bludgeoned over the head and loses consciousness. How big is Murtagh? He carries Claire around and heaves her up onto horseback while she's unconscious? Claire notes that he is "several inches shorter" than herself and "sparely built," so this is impressive.

They arrive at a cottage and someone confirms that Claire's captor is indeed Murtagh. It's Dougal! 

The dark man looked me over carefully, no expression on his face. He was good-looking, I thought, and not unfriendly. There were lines of strain between his brows, though, and it wasn't a face one would willingly cross.

Confession: I was #TeamDougal for the first several episodes of the TV show and barely even noticed Jamie.

We meet the rest of our merry band of MacKenzies. Hello, Rupert!

The dark man ignored me, establishing a pattern that I was to grow tired of very quickly.

Again, something Claire would have struggled with as a mid-century faculty wife as well as in the 18th century.

Rupert delivers rape threat #3. Though I suppose he's just the only one to make it explicit, as several of the other men are giving Claire "openly lascivious looks."

"I don't hold wi' rape, and we've not the time for it, anyway."

Well ok then.

I bit my tongue, repressing a number of more or less injudicious remarks that were bubbling toward the surface.

So Claire does have some measure of self control. Good to know.

And here's our first sighting of Jamie!

Not looking so good. Shot in the shoulder, and the same shoulder dislocated.

The mustached man, a Scot, and educated, to judge by his accent, was probing the shoulder, making the lad grimace in pain.

Who is this? Ned Gowan?

All this time, Claire is gathering up evidence that she is not in Kansas anymore: the men's dress, their vocabulary, no electric lights, the appearance of Black Jack Randall, etc. But she still has not entertained the idea that she is actually in the 18th century.

This scene is mostly as it is in the TV show. The men try to fix Jamie's shoulder, have no idea what they are doing, and are on the point of doing real damage when Claire intercedes. I am impressed with the TV writers' faithfulness to the novel, right down to the dialogue in this whole scene.

Claire fixes Jamie up. Dougal decides to take her along, though his reasons don't seem all that convincing to me.

1. If the English find her, she'll tell them which way we went. Why not blindfold her? Or just ride off in a different direction and circle back?
2. If the English find her, they might rape her. Very noble of you, Dougal, but not very practical. Why do you care?
3. We might be able to ransom her. Ok, fair enough. Though it still seems like a lot of trouble to bring her along.
4. It would be good to have a healer around. Probably the strongest of the four. Still seems like a lot of effort and risk.

"Jamie, get yourself up," [Dougal] called. "The lass will ride wi' you."

This also sounds like a bad idea. Dougal says that Claire can help guide the horse, but isn't it more difficult to ride double? Why put the injured man in charge of balancing Claire? And the poor horse — shouldn't she ride with someone smaller? I don't know, I'm no equestrian. But I suspect that Dougal is basing his decisions on the demands of the plot, rather than on military necessity.

I could feel his thighs behind mine, shifting and pressing occasionally to guide the horse.

Indeed.

At some point, Claire recognizes Cocknammon Rock, a place that Frank pointed out to her as the site of various English ambushes. The TV show set this up well, but this is the first we're hearing of it in the book, so this feels a bit convenient.

Suddenly reining up next to a a large gorse bush, Jamie grabbed me round the waist and unceremoniously dumped me into it.

Eek. Isn't gorse covered with sharp thorns? Harsh, Jamie.

Claire seems curiously uninjured, aside from a single scratch on her hand, so I guess we'll let this slide. She makes a break for it while the Scots are busy fighting. Now that she has a minute alone, Claire finally begins to consider the possibility that she might be in the 18th century. She's still resistant, which makes sense. In retrospect, TV Claire did reach this conclusion fairly quickly.

"Dinna worry, lass. 'Tis me."

How did he find her?

Jamie's covered in blood from the skirmish. Should we keep a body count for him? Obviously, it can't really be complete, given that he has certainly killed people before Claire shows up. And we can't be sure that he killed all three of the redcoats he fought. However, given the arterial bleeding and the fact that no one is chasing him, I'm willing to take him at his word and give him full credit.

Claire attempts to resist going back with Jamie, but he drags her along. She "accidentally" thumps him in the injured shoulder. She scolds him; he brags about killing three people. Claire starts drinking.

Eventually, Jamie collapses from blood loss. Dougal insists that need to keep riding and tells Claire to fix him up as best she can.

"'Hold still, you bloody fool . . . oh you goddamned bloody bastard!'"

I find Claire's vocabulary delightful. It reminds you that she has just come out of a war zone and that she really does not have much of a filter.

"'You can mind your own bloody business,' I snarled, sweat dripping behind my ears, 'and so can St. Paul.'"

I'm really glad they kept this in the TV show.

"Goddamn it all to hell!"

This is the first moment I feel genuine sympathy for Claire. Her frustration with that uncooperative bandage rings true. So much has happened to her in the last few hours and this is beyond bearing.

We learn that Jamie once had a foul mouth as well, but had his swearing habit broken during an extended stay at the monastery of Ste. Anne.

"You wouldna do so either, if you'd been made to do penance for it by lying for three hours at midnight on the stone floor of a chapel in February, wearing nothin' but your shirt."

Huh. So the TV writers are, in fact, capable of omitting scenes in which Jamie appears half naked. Color me surprised.

"Feisty wee bitch, is she no?" said my patient, sounding amused.

I guess this does not count as profanity. He's not wrong, but it seems somewhat uncharitable to say that straight to Claire's face.

Claire's getting close to tears, but Dougal and Jamie go on ignoring her. Poor Claire.

This chapter does a good job of plopping us into the 18th century without making it seem romantic. It's all rape threats and oozing wounds. Even the men we are supposed to like seem pretty awful here. I think that the visuals of the TV show may undermine the point of this chapter a bit. You can't hide the fact that the actors are beautiful, and the cinematographer does love the look of firelight on Sam Heughan's naked torso. Without that, the written word paints a starker picture of Claire's predicament.

Body Count:

Jamie: 3

Chapter 2: Standing Stones

Having established the relationship between Claire and Frank in Chapter 1, it is now time for TIME TRAVEL!

Claire goes out with Mr. Crook for a lesson in Highland plant life. He brings her to Craigh na Dun and we get some background information about stone circles and the academic debates over their original uses.

No lack of opinions, of course. Life among academics had taught me that a well-expressed opinion is usually better than a badly expressed fact, so far as professional advancement goes.

Is Diana Gabaldon an ex-academic? Or partnered with an academic? Of course, she could learn these things as an outside observer, but there are enough comments on academic life that I think she must have some skin in the game.

Claire is intrigued by the stone circle and traipses off to tell Frank all about it. She meets him at the vicar's house, where Frank and Rev. Wakefield are doing their nerd thing.

News? Casting an eye on the grubbiness and typeface of the papers on the desk, I calculated the date of the news in question as being likely around 1750. Not precisely stop-the-presses then.

Truly, these are my people. Poor Spouse often gets an earful of 18th-century news over dinner when I'm sure they'd rather be talking about the new photos of Pluto. I, on the other hand, sometimes say "the '70s" and mean the 1770s. Invite me over, Frank and Rev. Wakefield.

Roger!

Ok, I have been spoiled here and know that this little boy becomes a character later on. I suppose that's why they made a point of including him in the TV show.

If ever I'd seen a confirmed bachelor, I would have thought the Reverend Wakefield was it.

Is Rev. Wakefield gay? Not that it matters much, but I'd be happy to learn that some gay characters in this book are nice, not all sadistic, manipulative jackasses.

Roger lost his parents in the war and the Blitz, which also killed Uncle Lamb. This is a nice reminder that Claire is living in the immediate aftermath of enormous trauma, which might go some way toward explaining some of her later choices.

We learn that Black Jack Randall was not well beloved in Scotland, though Frank isn't bothered by that.

He was what he was, and nothing I can do about it. I only want to find out.

Take note, Ben Affleck.

The men start wondering whether Black Jack had a powerful friend who kept him out of trouble and Claire's eyes start to glaze over. She's rescued by Mrs. Graham, the Reverend's housekeeper, who whisks her off to the kitchen for tea and fortune telling. Let me reiterate here that the thought of spending a second honeymoon chatting with random new acquaintances sets my teeth on edge.

Mrs. Graham reads Claire's tea leaves and her palms, and all this is mostly as it was in the TV show. 

And strangers there are, to be sure, several of them. And one of them's your husband.

Ouch.

TV Frank actually made some comments about the patterns on Claire's hands, but that doesn't seem to be Book Canon. Too bad — my prediction while watching the TV show was that Claire would try to get a message to Frank by writing something in the margins of one of Black Jack's papers and signing it with a drawing of her palm lines so that Frank would know it was really her. It was a good prediction, given how much the show made out of Frank drawing her palm pattern when he was thinking of her during the war. Alas. If I were to fall into the 18th century, I'm pretty sure I could leave a message somewhere in university archives where one of my scholar friends would find it. Universities deal with all sorts of strange embargoes on documents. I'll bet "open this envelope in 2015 and follow the instructions inside" would work if I placed it in a collection I knew would survive that long. 

The lines in your hand change, ye know. At another point in your life, they may be quite different than they are now.

So let's put Mrs. Graham in the "Yes" column on the question of "Can the past be changed?" At least, she seems to believe in change/growth/choice rather than fixed destiny.

Question: Which hand do palm readers read? I'm looking at my palms right now and the patterns on each palm are markedly different. Are there standards for this sort of thing?

Mrs. Graham goes on to give us a rough forecast of the plot here, a life line cut up in pieces (more than one journey through the stones?), two simultaneous marriages, Claire enjoys sex, etc. Claire wonders whether the lines on her wrist indicate a potential for suicide. Foreshadowing? A reference to her blood vow to Jamie?

Frank and Rev. Wakefield have discovered that Black Jack was in league with the Duke of Sandringham and Claire could not care less.

It was seldom necessary to do more than nod periodically, saying 'Oh, really?' or 'How perfectly fascinating!' at appropriate intervals.

As much as I am on Frank's side on this specific point, I am worried about poor Claire here. At this point, she is headed for a whole lifetime of this sort of detached boredom at the hands of Frank and his Oxford colleagues, with no work of her own to keep her mind occupied and her spirit fulfilled.  Again, I'm worried that Claire is going to adapt to the expectations of mid-century domesticity about as well as Sylvia Plath did.

But it seems from this that Jonathan Randall was entrusted with the job of stirring up Jacobite sentiments, if any existed, among the prominent Scottish families in his area.

Well that's interesting. I didn't really pick up that angle from the TV show. TV Black Jack just seemed to be following his own twisted whims, without much of a master plan. I'm interested to see where this goes. Is his cruelty meant to inflame Jacobite tendencies among his victims and their clans? How much is an act and how much is meant in earnest? And if the Duke of Sandringham really was a Jacobite, is Black Jack supposed to be riling up the clans in order to provoke a rebellion? 

Claire looks over little Roger's genealogy. Rev. Wakefield expresses disappointment that he can only trace his own family back to 1762. As an historian, I share his disappointment. As a non-WASP, I can only shrug. My own grandfather didn't even have a birth certificate and my family had to go 10 rounds with Social Security trying to explain that even if every country had a modern bureaucracy (which they don't), the wars of the 20th century made rather a mess of paper records in a lot of the world. And who cares if he was born on the 27th or the 28th of the month? He is clearly here now and in need of medical care. But sure, let's find someone with a donkey to go up to the remote mountain village where he was born and see if the parish baptismal register still exists. And that was the 1920s, not the 1720s.

Frank babbled happily of spies and Jacobites most of the way back to Mrs. Baird's.

I like Frank.

Until all of this, that is:

"I couldn't feel properly toward a child that's not . . . well, not of my blood . . .I'm afraid a child from outside, one we had no real relationship with, would seem an intruder, and I'd resent it.

Gross, Frank. Gross. I mean, I guess it's good that he's trying to examine his own feelings about adoption, but this attitude cancels out a lot of the warm fuzzies I've had for Frank up until this point. I know people in my own life who hold this attitude and have deployed it in ways that devastated the people around them. So just no, Frank.

This seems like it is going to be a major question in these books. Do blood ties matter? More specifically, what is a parent? and what is the connection between parent and child? We have two orphans being raised by uncles (Claire and Roger), worries about infertility, and Frank's opposition to adoption, all in the first 25 pages of the book. Knowing from the TV show that there will be lots of talk about clan loyalties and obligations later on, this looks to be one of the big themes of this book.

Next, Claire and Frank go on a trip to Loch Ness, where they get more lessons in Highland legends. We hear the story of the doomed lovers Mary Grant and Donald Donn. I looked this one up and it seems that Mary and Donald were long dead by 1743, so we won't be meeting them unless there is other time travel in later books. Let's hope this legend is not included as foreshadowing, as it ends with Donald being beheaded.

Claire asks about the Loch Ness monster, but the tour guide seems not to be a believer.

Claire tells Frank about Craigh na Dun and he's all excited about getting up early to see a sun-feast ritual.

Getting up once in the dark to go adventuring is a lark. Twice in two days smacks of masochism.

I wonder again whether Claire has thought through this whole baby thing. I can just see her dealing with the demands of a newborn and Frank expecting her to still be charming at faculty parties on no sleep and frayed nerves. From all we've seen of Claire so far, it's hard to see how she wouldn't just explode with resentment and frustration. Which raises the question: Even if she didn't go back in time, would Claire have found another way to run away from her life as a faculty wife and mother?

The pagan women show up and Claire and Frank watch them dance in the stone circle.

They should have been ridiculous, and perhaps they were.

I will tuck this away as meta commentary.

The dancers finish their ritual and Claire and Frank poke around, commenting on the ancient rite. On the way back down the hill, Frank trips over a sardine can and Claire takes advantage of the situation to initiate sex in the grass.

This seems to be the book version of the TV scene where Frank goes down on Claire in the ruins of Castle Leoch. Gotta say, I prefer the TV version. In the book, Claire takes pains to observe that Frank is "skilled" and "accomplished," but this scene lacks the concise revelations of the TV scene. In the TV version, Claire communicates precisely what she wants and Frank is only too happy to oblige. This book scene does not convey the same things that I learned from the TV scene, which were: 

1. Claire and Frank are communicative, compatible sex partners
2. Claire is not afraid to advocate for her own pleasure 
3. Frank is also invested in Claire's pleasure 
4. both Claire and Frank are adults in an adult relationship, not timid kids
5. This television show is committed to serving a female audience. 

In terms of Claire's relationship with Frank, the TV scene did more to make me root for them than this book scene does. So score one for the TV writers.

I do like the description of Claire as "terrifyingly practical." We will see whether she lives up to it.

Claire is still wondering about the plant she saw on Craigh na Dun and Frank urges her to go back to get it. He also confirms that this is indeed Beltane, which means that World War II can't be quite over yet, unless it is actually 1946 (though it clearly says it is 1945 on the first page of chapter 1). Maybe this is one of the reasons that the TV show made this all happen at Samhain instead? Though that gets forgotten pretty quickly, as all of season 1 clearly happens in the spring and summer, not the winter.

Claire goes to the stone circle and hears a buzzing sound. She touches the tallest stone and all hell breaks loose. 

The stone screamed . . . There is no way to describe it, except to say that it was the sort of scream you might expect from a stone.

Ok.

Claire staggers around and accidentally(?) steps through the cleft in the stone. She experiences a sense of "complete disruption" and comes back to full consciousness as she stumbles toward the bottom of the hill. The mystical stuff fades and she hears "the normal sound of human conflict."

So there we are.

At this point, I must say that I appreciate how well the TV show adapted these first two chapters. They stayed pretty close to the source material, and I think the changes they made were generally for the better (i.e. the castle cunnilingus scene).

Chapter 1: A New Beginning

In this chapter, we meet Claire and Frank Randall, a couple of war veterans with questionable taste in vacations.

We open in Inverness, Scotland, in the spring of 1945.

Mrs. Baird herself was squat and easygoing, and made no objection to Frank lining her tiny rose-sprigged parlor with the dozens of books and papers with which he always traveled.

I do this. I am trying to reform, but my last beach read was the annotated journals of Samuel Sewall, so I'm not making much progress. I feel immediate kinship with Frank.

I met Mrs. Baird in the front hall on my way out. She stopped me with a pudgy hand and patted my hair.

This is a vacation straight out of my nightmares. I consider disconnection to be one of the primary joys of travel; my ideal vacation involves the anonymity of a chain hotel, the freedom to eat/sleep/explore on a whim, and the security of knowing that no one around me cares who I am. Discussing hair care with the innkeeper would have me packing my bags immediately.

Frank trolls Mrs. Baird by bouncing on the bed; Claire makes reference to their difficulty conceiving. Haven't they been separated for most of their marriage, though? Unless they were actively trying to conceive before the war, I wouldn't despair just yet — they've only had a few cycles together.

Dinner the night before had been herring, fried. Lunch had been herring, pickled. And the pungent scent now wafting up the stairwell strongly intimated that breakfast was to be herring, kippered.

Worst vacation. 

Frank introduces us to Black Jack Randall, Claire "flopped down facedown on the bed and affected to snore." Again, as the person who is usually explaining the obscure historical figure to my long-suffering spouse, I am on Frank's side here. Perhaps I can convince Spouse that paying closer attention to my obsessions might benefit them if they ever fall through a rift in time?

There's some more background about Black Jack. Frank offhandedly mentions that Black Jack had a brother — no doubt this will be important at some point, though it didn't come up in season 1 of the TV show.

Of the barman:

He was just annoyed because I told him the ale was weak. I told him the true Highland brew requires and old boot to be added to the vat, and the final product to be strained through a well-worn undergarment.

Cool mansplaining, Frank. Sassenach-splaining?

This back-and-forth establishes that Claire and Frank have a playful, witty relationship, tinged with condescending cynicism.

Claire goes shopping and a vase inspires her to reminisce about her itinerant lifestyle, both during the war and during a childhood spent following her archaeologist uncle across the globe. The detail about her refusing to attend boarding school is a nice touch. As the parent of a five-year-old who holds very strong opinions about kindergarten, I sympathize.

Even after our marriage, Frank and I led the nomadic life of junior faculty.

Ug. Too real, Diana Gabaldon. Memo to Claire: having a baby does not make this delightful stage of academic life easier.

Tucking my handbag firmly under my arm, I marched into the shop and bought the vases.

Good for you, Claire.

To Frank:

And it was you who suggested I take up botany. To occupy my mind, now that I've not got nursing to do.

Christ, Claire is going to hate being a faculty wife. Like The Bell Jar sort of hate it.

They encounter doorways painted with blood. Frank runs off to investigate while Book Claire gets skittish. I prefer TV Claire, who rolls her eyes over this. Frank explains that the newly-built houses are daubed with chicken blood in deference to ancient rituals involving blessing new homes with blood sacrifices. There is some discussion of a human sacrifice at Mountgerald in the 18th century, which is enough specific detail for me to predict that we will find out more about that eventually.

Frank also offers some background on the "Old Days" - fire feasts and sun feasts celebrated by various ancient peoples.

Question: Frank says, "It's getting on for Beltane - close to the spring equinox." I am confused. Isn't Beltane May Day? And the spring equinox is in March. And, in any event, VE day was May 8, 1945, so how can the war be over already if they are in Inverness before Beltane? I am confused. 

We meet the vicar, Rev. Wakefield, and I am happy that Frank has someone to nerd out with.

One record was much like another, so far as I was concerned.

Let us hope you do not come to regret this, Claire.

They discuss Viking influences in Scotland. I read this part aloud to Spouse, who was very pleased when their genealogical DNA test told them that their Y chromosome is from the haplogroup R1a1, so they are probably descended from Vikings (the paper trail on their paternal line goes back to about 1700 in Britain). I spare a brief thought for the hope that this particular Y chromosome came in by way of a Norse settlement, rather than by rape, but neither Spouse nor Frank is particularly interested in the details.

Next, we get a story about Claire's attempts to appear to be "the Perfect Don's Wife," which all goes to pot when she drops a teapot and yells, "Bloody fucking hell!" Atta girl, Claire. The Randalls and their host toss off some bullshitty theories about the etymologies of various profanities, and we get the first example of Claire's trademark, "Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ."

Then it's off to the scene of Frank returning home in the rain and encountering an apparition, presumably Jamie, watching Claire brush her hair. The TV show seems to have adapted this more or less faithfully.

I wonder why Jamie would haunt Claire in this moment. Frank says of the ghost, "No, he wasn't laughing. In fact, he seemed terribly unhappy about something." What does this portend? If Jamie's ghost is wandering around, looking for Claire, does that mean that their final parting will be a bad one? Ghosts haunt when they have unfinished business — what does this mean for the eventual end of the series? Will Claire end up with Frank in the end? Even if she doesn't, will she return to the 20th century? If Jamie and Claire end up together and happy, why isn't he resting quietly? I guess it's possible that he just wanted to see her in this moment, before she comes through the stones. But why would that make him unhappy?

Anyway, Frank tries to open up a conversation with Claire about whether either of them slept with anyone else during the war. He says he would understand, and it would only be natural, etc., and Claire pretty much bites his head off. She "jerks" and "explodes" and "demands" with a lot of "how dare yous" and "don't touch mes." Nice, rational response there, Claire. You know, if you go ballistic like that when someone tries to bring up a delicate subject, people just aren't going to tell you things. 

I think Frank comes off pretty well in this exchange, telling her that he would still love her even if she cheated on him. Though I think Claire is probably right — it's very likely that he gives his forgiveness of her imagined transgression so freely because he hopes Claire will offer him similar forgiveness. This seems a vain hope.

More importantly, this seems to be the author giving Claire permission to cheat on Frank. It is strongly implied that Frank did sleep with other women during the war, so does that make it ok for Claire to cheat on him? And does Frank really mean it when he says he would forgive her? If we ever see Frank again, I guess we'll see. At the moment, this isn't really all that important, but it seems like Diana Gabaldon making some excuses for Claire so that the reader doesn't come down too hard on her for her choices later on.

Another important thing in this scene: Frank says, "It was six years. And we saw each other only three times, and only just for the day that last time." If they've been married for "almost eight years" and spent six years separated, and maybe weren't actively trying for a baby right away when they got married, they actually haven't had too many chances to conceive. It's a little hard to tell how long they have been back together, what with it being chronologically impossible for it to be Beltane 1945 and for World War II to be over. Probably not more than a few months, though. In the TV show, Claire seemed pretty convinced that she can't get pregnant, but I wouldn't be so sure with those numbers.

So, at the end of this chapter, I believe in Frank and Claire. I think he handled that fight at the end well, de-escalating by apologizing and not talking about his own romantic adventures, as he might have if she had met him in a place of understanding and forgiveness. As a pair, they are a bit cynical and haughty, but also sharp and lively. I could see them being wonderfully catty together, destroying other couples at the bridge table and then gossipping about them afterward. But there are some points of tension as well - not really about what they did during the war, but with their expectations for life at Oxford. Could Claire really transform herself into a placid, domestic, doting faculty wife? Between her botany comments, the teapot incident, and the close-to-the-surface rage in that last fight, I don't think those vases would be long for this world.

When Spouse and I watched the first episode of the TV show, they commented that they liked the way this showed a marriage at a tense moment, but that neither Frank nor Claire was the villain. I agree with that — they are in a touchy situation, getting to know one another again after a long separation. But they are both working on it. Frank could be a little less precious about the way Claire carries herself in public. Claire could be a little more willing to talk things out, rather than jumping immediately to DEFCON 1. But overall, I'm rooting for them at this point.