Genre: Historical fiction (with a touch of fantasy)
Year Published: 1996
I have to say, unfortunately, that I enjoyed this installment in the Outlander series much less than its predecessors. It's similar to the first three books in most ways: same unbelievable length, same complex, adventure-heavy plot, same interesting, well-drawn characters.
Where Drums of Autumn stumbles, in my opinion, is on the plot that centers around Brianna Randall (whose provenance I won't explain here, in case others want to read the books but haven't gotten around to the first one yet). Other commentators have remarked that for a smart girl, she makes some dumb choices; I flatly refuse to entertain the argument that she should be blamed for the misfortunes that befall her.
I really hate, though, the particular plot arc that Gabaldon foists on Brianna. (Again, I won't be too specific for fear of spoilers.) I've seen it done in other books, but for a girl of her era, it just struck me as ridiculous. I don't like the whole "damsel in distress, waiting on her ass" gig. In fact, I hate it. Also, the probability . . . well. I won't go into details. I just didn't like her plot, and it dominated the latter half of the book, so the whole last 400 pages or so were pretty much unpleasant.
The thing about these books, though, is that you're too invested in the characters to quit. I have the next one, The Fiery Cross, out of the library, and I'll be beginning it shortly. I hope it's better than this one.
Showing posts with label diana gabaldon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label diana gabaldon. Show all posts
Saturday, April 21, 2007
Friday, April 6, 2007
Voyager (Diana Gabaldon)
Genre: Historical fiction (with a touch of fantasy)
Year Published: 1994
Well, people, she's done it: Gabaldon has sucked me in entirely.
That's right: the Outlander series has completely engrossed me, and I will not rest until I've read all six books. Well, I mean, I'll rest. But I'll be all jittery until the next two titles make it (via interlibrary loan) to my local library.
Voyager succeeds in a way that Outlander and Dragonfly in Amber didn't -- couldn't, maybe -- because our protagonists have grown up, and the clichéd plot arc of a typical romantic novel (forced marriage, surprise love, blessed pregnancy) has to go out the window. Voyager is the first volume in this series that is really surprising to the reader, and it's this quality that elevates it above its predecessors.
Not that it doesn't have the same glaring flaws of the first two: purple prose, subplots that anyone with three-tenths of a brain could predict, disproportionate length. The biggest problem I had with it, though, was that Voyager has a serious case of Small World Syndrome. Surely you've encountered this in other books: protagonists whose adventurings span great distances inevitably run into the same people over and over again, or meet new people who are inextricably linked to people they already know. It's a cheap way of adding drama, and I wish Gabaldon would be a little more realistic about the chances of running into the very same guy who blah blah blah et cetera.
Yet for all its flaws, Voyager is a great read. Not a great book, mind you, but definitely a great read.
Recommended? It's the best fluff I've had in years.
Year Published: 1994
Well, people, she's done it: Gabaldon has sucked me in entirely.
That's right: the Outlander series has completely engrossed me, and I will not rest until I've read all six books. Well, I mean, I'll rest. But I'll be all jittery until the next two titles make it (via interlibrary loan) to my local library.
Voyager succeeds in a way that Outlander and Dragonfly in Amber didn't -- couldn't, maybe -- because our protagonists have grown up, and the clichéd plot arc of a typical romantic novel (forced marriage, surprise love, blessed pregnancy) has to go out the window. Voyager is the first volume in this series that is really surprising to the reader, and it's this quality that elevates it above its predecessors.
Not that it doesn't have the same glaring flaws of the first two: purple prose, subplots that anyone with three-tenths of a brain could predict, disproportionate length. The biggest problem I had with it, though, was that Voyager has a serious case of Small World Syndrome. Surely you've encountered this in other books: protagonists whose adventurings span great distances inevitably run into the same people over and over again, or meet new people who are inextricably linked to people they already know. It's a cheap way of adding drama, and I wish Gabaldon would be a little more realistic about the chances of running into the very same guy who blah blah blah et cetera.
Yet for all its flaws, Voyager is a great read. Not a great book, mind you, but definitely a great read.
Recommended? It's the best fluff I've had in years.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
Dragonfly in Amber (Diana Gabaldon)
Genre: Historical fiction (with a touch of fantasy)
Year Published: 1992
The first paragraph of the prologue of Dragonfly in Amber reads thus:
And if you think that prose is purple, you should read one of the multitude of sex scenes.
Then why read Dragonfly in Amber? Well, I have to give Gabaldon this: for all she natters on about destiny and love and honor, she also concocts some fascinating plots. As for myself, having read Outlander, I couldn't content myself with leaving the story where it ended; I didn't rush to get my hands on the next book, but the next time I made a run to the library, I picked up this one (as well as the next one . . . which I doubt I'll finish before its due date). Then, once I began it, I took it with me on the train to work and to lunch every day until I finished. As I mentioned in my Outlander post, Gabaldon is a compelling author above all else.
And whereas Outlander starts off rather slowly and only picks up momentum a couple hundred pages in, Dragonfly hits the ground running; I felt rather like I was being yanked along by the wrist on a cross-country race. The story is framed -- we begin and end with Claire as a woman of fiftyish in late Sixties Scotland, while the huge bulk of the middle is Claire at about thirty in the 1740s -- and this gives the reader an acute sense of just how far the story in the past will progress before dumping us back in the twentieth century. At 743 pages, though, the finish line seems like a long ways away . . . until you realize, all of a sudden, that you've reached it, and it's not a happy transition.
This is not to say that what lies at the end is unexpected. Both because of the inherent nature of the genre and because of the framing device, some of the subplots' resolutions are abundantly clear to the reader long, long before the pieces fall into place for our heroine. At first, I thought that Gabaldon was undercutting her own book by essentially telling us how things would turn out, but when I reached the end, I revised my opinion; knowing that Claire goes back to her own time lends the book a poignancy that outweighs the importance of the reader's foreknowledge.
And yes, the prose is occasionally purple. But it's in-keeping with the genre and plot, so don't be surprised if you become rather attached to her ornate turns of phrase.
Recommended? It's a long, long book. If you feel that your time is better spent reading real literature, I wouldn't hold it against you. But you'll have more fun reading this.
Year Published: 1992
The first paragraph of the prologue of Dragonfly in Amber reads thus:
I woke three times in the dark predawn. First in sorrow, then in joy, and at the last, in solitude. The tears of a bone-deep loss woke me slowly, bathing my face like the comforting touch of a damp cloth in soothing hands. I turned my face to the wet pillow and sailed a salty river into the caverns of grief remembered, into the subterranean depths of sleep.
And if you think that prose is purple, you should read one of the multitude of sex scenes.
Then why read Dragonfly in Amber? Well, I have to give Gabaldon this: for all she natters on about destiny and love and honor, she also concocts some fascinating plots. As for myself, having read Outlander, I couldn't content myself with leaving the story where it ended; I didn't rush to get my hands on the next book, but the next time I made a run to the library, I picked up this one (as well as the next one . . . which I doubt I'll finish before its due date). Then, once I began it, I took it with me on the train to work and to lunch every day until I finished. As I mentioned in my Outlander post, Gabaldon is a compelling author above all else.
And whereas Outlander starts off rather slowly and only picks up momentum a couple hundred pages in, Dragonfly hits the ground running; I felt rather like I was being yanked along by the wrist on a cross-country race. The story is framed -- we begin and end with Claire as a woman of fiftyish in late Sixties Scotland, while the huge bulk of the middle is Claire at about thirty in the 1740s -- and this gives the reader an acute sense of just how far the story in the past will progress before dumping us back in the twentieth century. At 743 pages, though, the finish line seems like a long ways away . . . until you realize, all of a sudden, that you've reached it, and it's not a happy transition.
This is not to say that what lies at the end is unexpected. Both because of the inherent nature of the genre and because of the framing device, some of the subplots' resolutions are abundantly clear to the reader long, long before the pieces fall into place for our heroine. At first, I thought that Gabaldon was undercutting her own book by essentially telling us how things would turn out, but when I reached the end, I revised my opinion; knowing that Claire goes back to her own time lends the book a poignancy that outweighs the importance of the reader's foreknowledge.
And yes, the prose is occasionally purple. But it's in-keeping with the genre and plot, so don't be surprised if you become rather attached to her ornate turns of phrase.
Recommended? It's a long, long book. If you feel that your time is better spent reading real literature, I wouldn't hold it against you. But you'll have more fun reading this.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Outlander (Diana Gabaldon)
Genre: Historical fiction (with a touch of fantasy)
Year Published: 1991
Never again, I swear, will I joke about a book being upwards of 800 pages. Clearly the bluestocking gods decided that for my insolence, I would actually have to tackle such a book: namely, the bestselling Outlander.
Outlander clocks in at 850 pages, and I could not for the life of me tell you why it's so damn long. It doesn't have appreciably more detail or plot than a normal-length novel. You would think that the sheer heft of the book would turn away casual readers, and yet it's the first book in an enormously popular series.
Probably the book's popularity is due, at least in part, to its fairly easy, predictable path. Our heroine, Claire, is a WWII combat nurse who is hurtled back in time to 1743. Imagine any cliché of upscale historical romance novels and it is present here: the woman healer, the gallant warrior husband, the gruff seasoned band of brothers, the unbelievably over-the-top villain, a forced marriage, accusations of witchcraft, ancestors recognizable even six generations removed, multiple incredible escape missions, multiple torrid sex scenes, multiple brushes with death . . . you name it.
And yet . . . and yet Outlander is one of the more compelling books I have ever read. I truly could not put it down, and for someone like me who flits from book to book, that's saying something. Gabaldon never lets the plot drag; there's always a strong pull forward, aided by her style of rather short sections within medium-length chapters. She doesn't waste time transitioning between scenes, but instead trusts her readers to fill in between section breaks. And nothing happens that doesn't in some way contribute to the plot. In a more literary work, this would be a huge detriment, but in a plot-driven tome like this one, it's for the best.
This is not great literature. I'm not even sure it's good prose. It's not fluff exactly -- it's too well-researched and well-paced to be rightfully assigned that epithet. It's a tough novel to pin down. But it's deliciously addictive, and surprisingly educational about life in the given time period.
Recommended? If you don't mind spending the time and effort on 850 pages that won't really enrich your life or change your perspective, I recommend it wholeheartedly.
Year Published: 1991
Never again, I swear, will I joke about a book being upwards of 800 pages. Clearly the bluestocking gods decided that for my insolence, I would actually have to tackle such a book: namely, the bestselling Outlander.
Outlander clocks in at 850 pages, and I could not for the life of me tell you why it's so damn long. It doesn't have appreciably more detail or plot than a normal-length novel. You would think that the sheer heft of the book would turn away casual readers, and yet it's the first book in an enormously popular series.
Probably the book's popularity is due, at least in part, to its fairly easy, predictable path. Our heroine, Claire, is a WWII combat nurse who is hurtled back in time to 1743. Imagine any cliché of upscale historical romance novels and it is present here: the woman healer, the gallant warrior husband, the gruff seasoned band of brothers, the unbelievably over-the-top villain, a forced marriage, accusations of witchcraft, ancestors recognizable even six generations removed, multiple incredible escape missions, multiple torrid sex scenes, multiple brushes with death . . . you name it.
And yet . . . and yet Outlander is one of the more compelling books I have ever read. I truly could not put it down, and for someone like me who flits from book to book, that's saying something. Gabaldon never lets the plot drag; there's always a strong pull forward, aided by her style of rather short sections within medium-length chapters. She doesn't waste time transitioning between scenes, but instead trusts her readers to fill in between section breaks. And nothing happens that doesn't in some way contribute to the plot. In a more literary work, this would be a huge detriment, but in a plot-driven tome like this one, it's for the best.
This is not great literature. I'm not even sure it's good prose. It's not fluff exactly -- it's too well-researched and well-paced to be rightfully assigned that epithet. It's a tough novel to pin down. But it's deliciously addictive, and surprisingly educational about life in the given time period.
Recommended? If you don't mind spending the time and effort on 850 pages that won't really enrich your life or change your perspective, I recommend it wholeheartedly.
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