Tag Archives: fiction

Review: The Forgotten Girls

A big part of the fun of reading for me is planning what I want to read next. Early this year, I was planning a mini book haul; I ended up with 4 novels, but I looked through hundreds of titles to get a good idea of what’s out there, and ended up with a second list of books to hunt down at the library. It’s one of these books that I want to tell you about today: Sara Blaedel’s The Forgotten Girls.


Written in Denmark, this book is actually not the first in its series, but was the first to be published in English, and therefore stands as the beginning. It works as a stand-alone book, but I did feel while I was reading that some of the characters probably had a lot more depth and background than what I was seeing in this one volume. I believe a second book is now available in English in this series, which I hope will share a little more detail about the main characters and their pasts. But for now, let’s discuss The Forgotten Girls.

About this book: Louise Rick, the lead detective of a new Missing Persons department, takes the case of an unidentified woman found in the woods and unearths some strange information about her previous whereabouts. The woman and her twin were supposedly abandoned at a young age at a facility for children with mental disorders, but their death certificates were filed decades ago and no one seems to be able to remember what happened. Meanwhile, more women are being brutally attacked around the area, and one is missing. There are no witnesses. There are barely any suspects. And Louise grew up in this area, leaving after a personal tragedy she still can’t seem to escape. Can any of these people she’s known for years be a vicious murderer? And what’s up with her new partner, Eik?

“What do we know about this woman?” Louise asked as she put on a lab coat and hairnet. “So far, not much, except that it was a forest worker who found her on Thursday morning by Avnso Lake on mid-Zealand,” Flemming answered, handing her a green surgical mask. “According to the coroner’s examination, she died sometime between Wednesday and early Thursday morning. The police think she fell or slipped maybe fifteen feet down a steep slope and landed badly…I decided to upgrade the autopsy so we’ll get the DNA.” Louise nodded in agreement. DNA and dental records were always the first steps toward an identification. It would have been nice if Eik Nordstrom had bothered to show up, she thought, so one of them could follow up with the dentist right away. “I can say almost for sure that this is no ordinary woman we’re dealing with,” Flemming went on, explaining that this was clear from both the clothes she had been wearing before they began and the condition of the body. “Or at least it’s not a woman who has lived an ordinary life,” he corrected.

The biggest draw for me initially in this story was the creepiness of the mystery. There’s a spooky forest hiding something evil, an old asylum full of secrets, people who are not what they seemed, danger, adventure, deception, conspiracy, a haunted past, and all those good murder mystery elements. I appreciated the concept, but it didn’t feel as suspenseful as I was expecting. I understood that Louise was worried about things, but I had some difficulty feeling that tension connect me to her character. There were a few moments near the end that were intense, but generally Louise seemed a bit out of reach. I didn’t have any doubts that the case would be solved, but it didn’t seem to matter much for her either way–she would’ve been upset at the lack of closure, but her life would not significantly change. I didn’t want her to fail, and I did want to discover what had happened to all the attacked women, but I wasn’t anxious with anticipation because of a character’s personal investment or the constant presence of danger, the elements that usually bring detective stories alive for me. This was a subdued mystery, where I usually prefer drama. That’s not to say this is a poor story–but definitely subtle.

The thing that inexplicably stuck with me about this book was an abrupt transition that proved there was more happening between the lines. To explain it, I need to tell you a little about the romance situation in this book. The Forgotten Girls starts with one of those typical strong-female-lead-who’s-really-underimpressed-by-the-male-lead-who-makes-a-terrible-first-impression kind of scenarios where you just know they’re going to grow surprisingly close and fall in love. That’s how it starts, but luckily it’s not actually so predictable. There’s not much love going on, and barely even any attraction, which is nice–it’s great to read about a female lead who doesn’t need to get the man to have her happy ending. But there is some attraction here. Enough to keep things interesting in the unlikely partnership that Louise and Eik are forced into. The biggest attraction between them seems to stem from an appreciation for skill and persistence with the job. And thus my shock at this abrupt transition–one minute Louise is thinking about the case, and then the following paragraph begins the next morning with a brief recap of the biggest romantic advancement of the book, which then goes virtually unacknowledged for the remainder of the story! I literally did a double take, which, for the record, can be extremely awkward when you’re reading in public. The casual mention of Louise’s physical involvement with someone she’d hardly seemed to notice was both surprising and unexpected, and gave the impression that the narration was hiding some important thoughts. The story became much more interesting for me as I tried to cipher out more of what was happening behind the scenes. This is essentially what led to my interest in another book in the series–clearly there’s more to Louise’s past than she’s willing to admit here, and I sincerely hope that the next book of this series will delve into that aspect of her character.

My reaction: 3 out of 5 stars. I didn’t feel that creepy urge to crawl out of my skin that I was hoping for when I picked up this murder mystery, but I think it is worth noting that I’m interested enough in the characters to add the second book, The Killing Forest, to my to-read list. I think this story is one I’ll grow to like more as I learn more about the characters, but I do wish it had seemed stronger on its own.

Further recommendations:

  1. Leslie Parry’s Church of Marvels is set in New York, circa the 1800s, and features some of the asylum and strange death elements that I was looking for in The Forgotten Girls. A unique plot web ties the characters together as they fight for their lives and the prosperity of their Coney Island sideshow. See my review of this novel here.
  2. The Shining, by Stephen King, would be a great read if you like creepy stories about old semi-abandoned places and seemingly-normal families faced with nearly unimaginable challenges. There’s no detective element here, but the “enemy” is eerily close to home, as in The Forgotten Girls, and in both cases the characters live in fear of something–or someone–they can hardly put a name to. As with most King novels, there’s some involvement of the supernatural in The Shining that is not at all present in The Forgotten Girls, but both share an inexplicable hint of something beyond the norm working in mysterious and evil ways–they just have different explanations in the two books, with varying degrees of scientific rationale.

What’s next: I’m heading back to historical fiction to bring you a new installment in my Outlander series reviews. I’ll be talking about Diana Gabaldon’s The Fiery Cross next, which is the fifth book in the series. Stay tuned for my latest thoughts on the exciting (and sometimes tragic) lives of the Fraser family!


The Literary Elephant

Review: You

Confession of a book-buying addict: I have quite a few books on my shelves that I haven’t read yet, and it doesn’t stop me from obtaining more. I’m definitely going to read them all, eventually, but I’m also addicted to borrowing books, and I always feel that I should read those first. But this last week I found a few days with no borrowed books left to finish and I picked one off of my own shelf for a change. I grabbed You by Caroline Kepnes.


About this book: The prose is written in first person, allowing the reader a front-row seat to the craziness of Joe’s mind, but he directs most of his thoughts to “you,” a girl called Beck, who he is instantly obsessed with when she walks into the book store he manages. Some of his thoughts are so normal, so mundane, and his joy over small victories in winning Beck’s attention are endearing, but it takes only a split second for the narrator to cross the line from hard-working average Joe looking for love, to a stop-at-nothing fanatic who will lie, cheat, steal, stalk, and even kill when the mood strikes him. He is desperate to work his way into Beck’s life and heart, and alternates between trying to impress her and trying to hide from her the lengths he’ll go to to have her. It’s story about the difference between truly wanting someone, and wanting who they are on the surface–who they pretend to be. Surface-Joe and surface-Beck may have made a great pair, but as they learn about each other, they must decide if what’s on the surface is worth all the trouble stirring underneath.

“I point him to Fiction G-K and I think of the time I saw you in Fiction F-K and what a fool I was in the days after. I have rearranged the shop; I couldn’t look at F-K anymore. I genuinely believed that reshaping the shelves would make it easier to live in the world without you, the world I built with my own two hands, the world that won’t allow me to tell you that I know you stole your Ritz robes from Peach. I still get flashbacks. I still cringe. I am eating again, but only because I hate fainting. Everything has been an exercise until now…And I will never again underestimate the power of anticipation. There is no better boost in the present than an invitation to the future.”

Reading this book is like being stuck in a fast river current. It’s so easy to follow that you don’t have any choice about staying in it, and couldn’t escape it if you tried. Sometimes the view is beautiful, sometimes it makes you fear for your life, and even when it finally dumps you in the lake at the end of the journey, you’re stuck in the water until you swim all the way to the shore and find another book. Except there’s a sequel, Hidden Bodies, which will probably feel a lot like you’ve just turned around and walked along the river bank for the sole purpose of jumping back in to be lost to the current again (I’ll post a review as soon as I’ve gotten my hands on it to read). Whew. That was a bit of a long and convoluted metaphor, but “addicting” didn’t quite seem sufficient to describe this book. Also, it leads into the next excerpt, which is a metaphor of sorts. Before you read it though, a warning: this book is super sexual. It’s not the only thing that Joe wants from Beck, but it’s definitely high on the list, and always on his radar. Even when he’s not directly thinking about sex, it’s there. Case in point:

“The problem with books is that they end. They seduce you. They spread their legs to you and pull you inside. And you go deep and leave your possessions and your ties to the world at the door and you like it inside and you don’t want for your possessions or your ties and then, the book evaporates. You turn the page and there is nothing and we are both crying.”

My reaction: 5 out of 5 stars. The plot is intense, and the writing brings the reader straight into Joe’s thought process, but at the same time makes you, the reader, feel as though you are being targeted when he does something particularly scary. It’s like he’s talking right to you, and you want to be afraid of him, but at the same time you can sympathize with him. This book is wonderfully uncomfortable, and Joe’s opinions about modern culture draw you in because you know what he’s talking about. The frequent commentary about literature makes you want to run to the nearest bookstore and read everything, but the stream of Joe’s thoughts and the fear of running into an ordinary-looking bookseller like him also make you want to swear never to enter a bookstore again. This novel will have you feeling all kinds of everything.

Further recommendations:

  1. The Luckiest Girl Alive by Jessica Knoll would be a great read if you like potentially doomed relationships with more than a hint of death behind them and an NYC backdrop. For more info on this one, check out my review for it here.
  2. Gillian Flynn’s novel, Gone Girl. I know this one is getting a bit old and if you haven’t read it you’ve probably seen the movie, but I kept thinking that Joe would make a great match for Gone Girl’s Amy. It would be really interesting to see what would happen if someone put those two in the same room. Would there be any survivors?

Coming up next: In my reprieve from borrowed books to read, I also got around to finishing (almost) my review of Sara Blaedel’s The Forgotten Girls, a creepy murder mystery that I couldn’t decide whether I liked or not. Stay tuned to find out what I decided, and why I was on the fence!

Let me know if you have any questions, comments, or recommendations for me! And don’t let life keep you fro reading. 🙂

The Literary Elephant

Update: you can find my review of Kepnes’ sequel to You, entitled Hidden Bodies, here.     P.S. there may be spoilers there for those of you who haven’t read You yet!

Review: Drums of Autumn

I’ve been binging on Outlander books lately, so today I have a review of the fourth book in the series by Diana Gabaldon,titled Drums of Autumn. As usual with a series, I’ll refrain from spoilers beyond giving a general sense of what the book’s about, but I won’t recap previous books, either. Follow these links for my thoughts on Outlander (book 1), Dragonfly in Amber (book 2), and Voyager (book 3).


About this book: Jamie and Claire begin the long process of establishing a new home of their own in America, accompanied by their nephew, Ian. The biggest plot points of this volume, however, center around Brianna and Roger. Brianna tries to acclimate to the idea of her parents living two hundred years in the past, one of whom she misses dearly and one she’s never met, despite growing curiosity. She and Roger can’t help learning more about the Frasers’ lives, and are soon faced with life-or-death choices that affect everyone they love most. Jamie and Claire may be in danger, Brianna walks right into danger and must deal with the aftermath, Roger has danger thrust upon him and must choose whether to keep fighting or retreat to safety, if he’s able, and Ian is so hell-bent about adventure that he doesn’t give danger a second thought. Everyone is struggling to find their place in a new place, and then of course there’s the upcoming revolution to worry about. There’s hardly time to worry about politics, however, between the appearances of crafty pirates and unpredictable native tribes. Everyone must stand for what they believe in, and they can’t stand alone. But can they stand together?

“The humming noise disturbed him. It wasn’t in his ears but in his body–under his skin, in his bones. It made the long bones of his arms and legs thrum like plucked strings, and itched in his blood, making him want constantly to scratch. Fiona couldn’t hear it; he’d asked, to be sure she was safe before letting her help him. He hoped to God he was right; that only those who heard the stones could pass through them. He’d never forgive himself is anything happened to Fiona–though she’d been in this circle any number of times of the fire feasts, with no ill effect…He stamped both feet and shook himself like a horse with flies, trying to rid himself of the humming. God, it was like being eaten by ants! Was Fiona’s chanting making it worse, or was it only his imagination?”

One thing I’ve really enjoyed about this series is that each of the first four books takes place somewhere new. They’re distinctly Scottish throughout, but Gabaldon shows her readers a lot more of the 18th century than the Scotland town of Inverness where Outlander began. And then each book, while linked in so many ways to everything that’s already happened, is it’s own distinct adventure.

Which brings us to another point that I particularly love about Gabaldon’s writing: it may be long, but the continuity is remarkable. There are so many specific references to people and events from the characters’ pasts that nothing seems superfluous–on the contrary, you want to hold onto every possible detail you can keep together in your memory at once, because every thread of the plot is beautifully connected, not just between the covers of each volume but throughout the entire series. For example, I’d been waiting from the first book for Claire to tell Jamie that it was Laoghaire who mixed Claire up in the witch trial with Geilis, which they finally discuss in the fifth book. This is such a small detail that has very little bearing on the plot once the “trial” in the first book has been escaped, but it’s a notable example of how Gabaldon doesn’t let any plot points go, instead connecting them carefully at the most opportune moments. I’m only mentioning this detail from later in the series now because the fourth book lays the groundwork for much of the rest of the series. I’m in the middle of the sixth book now, and while the adventures continue, the Frasers travel less, and therefore the people and plots of Drums of Autumn keep coming up as far ahead as I’ve read now. This is the point at which I’d recommend paying a little closer attention to the details Gabaldon includes. Everything is important.

And now I want to talk about Roger. He’s not new, but newly important as he’s forced to decide over and over again with life-altering consequences how much he really loves Brianna. I didn’t think much of Roger in earlier books. He was there, but he didn’t really stand out to me as a good guy or a bad guy or even a distinctly important guy. Even now that I’m into the sixth book I’m not sure what to think of him. I can’t decide whether he has the worst luck in the world, or whether he’s making regrettable choices.

My reaction: 4 out of 5 stars for this one. There were some great surprises (meaning captivating, not always good for the characters) plot twists in this one that made Drums of Autumn hard to put down. But this book, like the others, seemed to start slowly. It’s not that the beginning isn’t relevant or interesting, but there always seems to be a gap between the end of one volume and the beginning of the next in which the characters move to a different emotional plane than where we left them, and we’re not quite sure why for a few chapters. Beyond that, Roger becomes a major character in his own right in this book, but there are very few times I’m really invested in him. It’s not that I want things to be difficult for him, or even that I don’t appreciate his presence in the story, but there seems to be less…fire about him. I suppose it’s a sense that his fellow characters would be less devastated by his loss than by any of the other main characters’. Regardless, this book is just the whirlwind I was expecting, and certainly worth the read if you’ve made it this far.

Further recommendations:

  1. Reading about pre-America really put me in the mood for more American historical fiction. Although it takes place later than Drums of Autumn, every mention of slaves in this book made me want to reread Uncle Tom’s Cabin by Harriet Beecher Stowe. If you’re interested in historical fiction about America, Uncle Tom’s Cabin is a must, and I think it would be interesting to time it with a break in the Outlander series sometime between books 3 and 5, when slaves are mentioned more frequently.
  2. I’ve made a dent in the Lord John sub-series now, and my favorite so far has been Lord John and the Brotherhood of the Blade, the second novel. If you’re less interested in Lord John but still want to experience a little of his story, try Brotherhood of the Blade. Each piece of this series refers to previous events, but they stand alone a lot better than the Outlander books would. You could plausibly read only this one, the fourth story, which is a sizeable representation compared to some of the shorter pieces but still much shorter than any Outlander book. I’ll probably have a more formal review of the sub-series coming in the next few weeks if you’re interested in hearing more about each individual piece.

What’s next: I’ll have a review for the fifth book of this series, The Fiery Cross, coming soon for my fellow Outlander fans, as well some info and thoughts about the Lord John sub-series, but in the meantime I’m planning to share a different sort of book that I read recently, Caroline Kepnes’ novel, You, which is probably one of the creepiest but most intriguing books I’ve ever read.

Recommendations for me? Specific requests? Comments or questions about what I’ve read or written? Don’t hesitate to share!

Until next time, happy reading!


The Literary Elephant

Update: Follow this link to read my next Outlader review about book 5, The Fiery Cross!

Review: Career of Evil

I’m Wrapping up a loose end today with a review for the third book in the Cormoran Srike series, Career of Evil by Robert Galbraith (J. K. Rowling). As usual, no major spoilers, but this post will make the most sense to those who know a bit about the first two books of the trilogy. Check out my reviews of The Cuckoo’s Calling (book 1) and The Silkworm (book 2) if you’re interested in the other Robert Galbraith books. And now, let’s talk about my favorite addition to the Cormoran Strike series, Career of Evil.


About the book: After two successful high-profile cases, private detective Cormoran Strike and his assistant, Robin Ellacott, are pulled into another violent mystery which the police seem unable to stay ahead of. This time, however, they have no choice about their involvement, because they have been personally targeted. Someone is out to ruin Strike, and sees Robin as a point of vulnerability for him. With news in the press of violent crimes somehow attached to Strike, he quickly looses business and must either give up his chosen profession or solve the case himself to clear his name from the confusion. The problem isn’t coming up with names of potential suspects who’d wish to do Strike personal harm–it’s in coming up with too many. Strike thus finds himself spending all of his time tracking down unpleasant acquaintances from his past to eliminate those who weren’t involved in the particular evil crimes under investigation, hoping to stop the criminal before reminding too many other dangerous individuals how much they dislike him. Strike must delve back into his past and come to terms with unsettling events that continue to nag at him. Meanwhile Robin deals with a shocking revelation from her fiance, Matthew, and the usual clashes between him and Strike are exacerbated as Robin simultaneously becomes more involved in the workings of the detective agency and in arranging (or not) the final details of her wedding. Time, money, and safety are concerns for all, but the criminal plunges ruthlessly forward with his schemes, dragging his enemies along for the ride.

Why it’s different: In this volume, the reader is taken into the minds of the killer. This book alternates between the viewpoints of Cormoran, Robin, and the mysterious criminal who’s got the detective and his assistant locked in his sights. These vantage points allow the reader to understand all angles of the case; while there is no particular sympathy for the killer, or desire to see him succeed, there is a recurrent reminder of his presence and enough detail of his life to give the reader some insight into whether Strike’s investigation is on track or off, and whether Robin is indeed as safe as she feels. At the first glimpse into the killer’s mind, he seemed a little stereotypical, but that impression quickly evaporates as we spend more time dissecting his life and habits. Although the perspectives revealing Strike’s and Robin’s actions and thoughts are familiar at this point, they also seem more revealing in this book. This case is so much more personal for each of the characters, which adds extra dimension to the mystery, and certainly rounds out this series by adding in the missing pieces of Cormoran’s and Robin’s histories. There’s no more room for secrets, at this point. Also, this is the book that will decide matters once and for all in Strike’s relationship with Robin.

“Everyone liked Robin. He liked Robin. How could he fail to like her, after everything they had been through together? However, from the very first he had told himself: this far and no further. A distance must be maintained. Barriers must remain in place…The sapphire on Robin’s third finger had been a bonus, then: a safeguard and a full stop. In preventing the possibility of anything more, it set him free to…what? Rely on her? Befriend her? Allow barriers to become imperceptibly eroded so that as he looked back it occurred to him that they had each shared personal information that hardly anybody else knew…For all his determination to keep her at arm’s length, they had literally leaned on each other. He could remember exactly what it felt like to have his arm around her waist as they had meandered towards Hazlitt’s Hotel. She was tall enough to hold easily. He did not like having to stoop. He had never fancied very small women. Matthew would not like this, she had said. He would have liked it even less had he known how much Strike had liked it.”

Strike and Robin’s relationship is one of the best I’ve come across in any sort of detective story, because it’s completely normal and unpredictable. They seem to have real potential, but they’re both a little awkward and hesitant. It’s the kind of mutual regard and appreciation that warms the heart, not the intense life-or-death kind of love that’s tailored to the written page. They’re ordinary people, with a connection that feels real. I had no idea whether or not these two would have their moment, or end up together, or completely go their separate ways, until the book ended, and…well, I won’t give it away. But even after three books of speculation and uncertainty, I was still surprised at how it turned out, even though I think it went the right way.

A follow-up: For the second book, I left a warning about the goriness of some of the details, and I only mention it again now to say that I didn’t really feel that way about this book at all. There were definitely still some violent events and recountings, but nothing that was dwelt upon in any grotesque way. That said, this book is delightfully disturbing. All of the main suspects in this new string of crimes is someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. The antagonist, whose disturbed mind we are granted access to, is far from squeamish about conveying just how far he’s willing to go to sully Strike’s good name.

My reaction: I thought this was a great series overall, but this book was by far my favorite. I give 5/5 stars, and I would recommend this series just for this book, although the first two are certainly enjoyable as well. J. K. Rowling spins a great web of plot and characters, but this one particularly I couldn’t put down.

Further recommendations:

  1. The Girl on the Train, by Paula Hawkins, is also set in modern day England, and features a mystery that’s driven by personal connections and violence. The characters of this one feel just as real and understandable as those in the Cormoran Strike books. Find my review of Hawkins’ novel (soon to be a movie) here.
  2. This may be a bit of an odd recommendation, but I’ve been so immersed in the Outlander series these past few months that I’m definitely drawing a connection between the Cormoran Strike books and the sub-series by Diana Gabaldon about Lord John Grey. Strike was wounded in the army, and returned to London to work as a detective. John Grey, about 250 years earlier, also resides mainly in London, is an active soldier, and is inevitably swept into solving mysteries that often turn out to have personal ties like the main plot of this third Strike novel. It’s not even necessary to read the massive Outlander volumes before picking up the John Grey series, which is made up of considerably smaller stories. If you’re interested in reading about London life, the British army, and unending mysteries that occassionally seem supernatural, the first story in Gabaldon’s John Grey series is “Lord John and the Hellfire Club,” and the first novel is Lord John and the Private Matter, either of which would make a good start.

Do you have any recommendations for me? Feel free to let me know, and to comment any other questions or thoughts below.

What’s next: I’m reading Caroline Kepnes’ novel, You, at the moment, which I am eager to share with you, but since I’ve had some technical difficulties this past week and fallen behind in my posts, I may add the next Outlander review for book 4, Drums of Autumn, by Diana Gabaldon, before I finish reading You. So depending on how soon I post again, and how fast I read, it’ll be one of those two, and both are great reads!

As always, happy reading!


The Literary Elephant

Review: The Silkworm

Welcome back, readers! Today’s review features the second book of Robert Galbraith (J. K. Rowling)’s Cormoran Strike series, entitled The Silkworm. Several weeks ago I posted a review of the first book (The Cuckoo’s Calling), which can be found here. I’ll try not to include spoilers, for those of you who haven’t begun the series yet, but my comments will probably make more sense if you’ve already read the first book. And without further ado…


About the book: Cormoran and Robin are back in business after their success with the Lula Landry case brought new customers and fame. But despite a number of paying cases, Strike is intrigued by the pleas of a woman he fears will never be able to afford giving him more than thanks. Her husband, an egotistical author named Quine, has disappeared, but his colleagues and supposed friends are offering as little assistance as possible in helping to locate him. Quine’s disappearance coincides with his sharing a new manuscript in which many of his acquaintances appear as awful characters with secrets that may have some relation to unsavory truths. When a killing occurs mimicking a gruesome death in the manuscript, the hunt for answers becomes a dangerous chase, where each of the main suspects know all too well of Strike’s involvement with the case. The police, of course, have jumped to hasty conclusions that Cormoran believes will land an innocent person in jail and tear a fragile family apart, leaving Strike to take matters into his own hands. Meanwhile, Robin’s career and engagement remain uncertain, and she’s forced to choose over and over what (or who) she loves most, and how much she’s willing to fight for it.

“‘Writers are a savage breed, Mr. Strike. If you want lifelong friendship and selfless camaraderie, join the army and learn to kill. If you want a lifetime of temporary alliances with peers who will glory in your every failure, write novels.'”

As always, Rowling’s writing is superb. In The Silkworm, the careful and adept writing is made more intriguing by the fact that many of the main characters are authors, editors, publishers, etc., making this one of those fascinating pieces in which the author is writing about the writing process. Characters’ thoughts of reading and writing in fiction are always interesting to me because characters who like to read are one of the most constant aspects in literature, and I like to believe a bit of the author shows through his/her representation of these bookish characters. Those of The Silkworm certainly know the ins and outs of the publishing world, as Rowling certainly must.

All of the characters, however, writers or not, possess great depth in this series. Returning characters have more to their pasts than was unearthed in the previous book, and new characters are diverse and rich enough to keep the reader busy sorting out the lies from the truths. The plot is carefully constructed to avoid those convenient coincidences that feel unrealistic in mysteries, although I should probably warn future Silkworm readers that this book contains much more gore in its details than The Cuckoo’s Calling. I’m not usually one to shy away from a bit of blood and tragedy, because such aspects keep otherwise calm stories engaging, but I was honestly a little squeamish about a few of the descriptions in this one. I mean, I watch The Walking Dead, and I enjoy the story line of it quite a bit, but I try not to look too closely at the people-eating parts. That’s the best description I can give for the gore in this book–it wouldn’t have stopped me from reading it, but I had to grimace to myself a couple times as I read.

One point of frustration for me in this addition to the Cormoran Strike series is the turning point at which the reader doesn’t have all the answers–not because the detectives are lacking them, but because Strike suddenly assembles the puzzle and refuses to share the final picture with the reader. More simply, I mean that I find it frustrating to follow Cormoran and Robin on their fact-seeking ventures only to be excluded from that level of equal access to their thoughts and actions once they understand how all the pieces fit together. There was a similar sort of turning point in The Cuckoo’s Calling where the information exchange between narrator and reader suddenly changed, but I found it much more obvious and, personally, a little more annoying the second time around.

“Like the turning lid that finds its thread, a multitude of disconnected facts revolved around Strike’s mind and slid suddenly into place, incontrovertible correct, unassailably right. He turned his theory around and around: it was perfect, snug and solid. The problem was that he could not yet see how to prove it.”

Then the narrator takes his/her time about getting around to sharing the theory while Strike is working on his proof.

Despite the gore and the necessity of patience toward the end, however, The Silkworm is a great mystery, and more. I particularly love that Cormoran and Robin are very normal people–they have no superhuman abilities, and deal with personal problems just like anyone else. They deal with breakups, repress private thoughts and emotions, hide insecurities, and fall short. They have great chemistry as work partners that constantly leaves the reader wondering whether they belong together more than they’re willing to admit. Theirs isn’t the obvious romance of typical detective stories where the unlikely couple inevitably fall in love, bonding over their need for answers and justice, but they’re bound together by their interest in their cases, nonetheless. It’s difficult to discern whether they’re destined or doomed, but they make a great team nonetheless. I can read almost any poor plot as long as the characters are captivating, as Cormoran and Robin certainly are, but the plot is far from poor here and both aspects encourage each other, as in good books they should.

Rating: 4/5 stars. The Silkworm was my least favorite Cormoran Strike book, but I definitely enjoyed it, and it was a worthwhile contribution to the series. If you’re on the fence for any reason, I personally found the third book much worth the effort of getting to it, which isn’t to say that the rest of the series was a drag, either.

Further recommendations:

  1. Stephen King’s Misery might be a good fit if you like this particular Robert Galbraith volume, and vice versa; there’s less mystery in Misery, since the narration follows the missing writer rather than the people looking for him, but I think there are similar elements between these two.
  2. Gillian Flynn’s Dark Places is also perhaps a bit more sinister than The Silkworm, but if you enjoy mystery and unstable characters, this one is a good pick. Dark Places lacks the missing writer angle, but shares the investigative aspect.

Feel free to send me your questions, comments, and/or recommendations!

Up next: I’ll share why I found Galbraith’s third (and final) book of the Cormoran Strike trilogy, Career of Evil, the best of the group.

In the meantime, happy reading!


The Literary Elephant

Update: here’s my review of the third Cormoran Strike novel, Career of Evil!

Review: Voyager

This review is for my fellow Outlander fans, particularly those interested in the third book of the series, Voyager. As with my previous post, I won’t recap previous books, but you can find my impressions of the first two volumes of the series here and here. Again, I will refer to the series as a whole, and mention necessary characters and plot points with the assumption that you know a bit about the first two books of the Outlander series, but I’ll try not to give too much away for those of you reading this review before Voyager.


Okay, so between finishing Dragonfly in Amber and getting my hands on Voyager, I started looking up more info on this series and found out quit a bit about upcoming events, which probably skewed my reading a little. I usually try not to know much of anything about a book before reading it, but if it’s one I know I’m going to read anyway, I won’t let a few untimely spoilers stop me. Therefore, after a few days to formulate expectations about what would happen next, and then having had time to search the internet for concrete evidence of my suspicions, very little about this book surprised me, and yet I loved every page. Although practically everything has changed between books 1 and 3, I did feel that these first three were similar, and would’ve worked as a trilogy. While most of the the Gabaldon books I’ve read so far seem to “end” more with a pause for the narrator to take a breath before the next calamity unfolds than with any solid sense of resolution, the end of Voyager felt to me like the end of an era for Jamie and Claire. That’s not to say that I was ready to quit reading, of course.

About this book: there are basically two halves to this book that are more or less two distinct stories. The first part focuses on Claire’s attempts to reunite with Jamie, and all the obstacles of reunion that naturally appear when two people who love each other have spent many years apart establishing their own separate lives. There is still drama going on here and there, but the Frasers are so focused on each other that their misadventures seem like no more than momentary hiccups between serious conversations about Jamie’s and Claire’s present situation and future intentions. Once explanations and compromises have been made and the two are minimally reacquainted, typical Outlander plot-heavy drama takes off again in the second half of the book, when pirates enter the story and take something Jamie needs back. Naturally, Claire and Jamie rush off to France to seek transportation across the Atlantic Ocean from cousin Jared, in pursuit of the pirates. They have to deal with sickness, French soldiers, rebellious slaves, and a whole lot more of the supernatural element that’s been surfacing  throughout the series.

“‘Claire,’ he said softly. ‘I must say something.’ I knew already, and groped for his mouth to stop him, but my hand brushed by his face in the dark. He gripped my wrist, and held tight. ‘If it will be a choice between her and one of us–then it must be me. Ye know that, aye?’ I knew that. If Geilie should be there, still, and one of us might be killed in stopping her, it must be Jamie to take the risk. For with Jamie dead, I would be left–and I could follow her through the stone, which he could not. ‘I know,’ I whispered at last. I knew also what he did not say, and what he knew as well; that should Geilie have gone through already, then I must go as well. ‘Then kiss me, Claire,’ he whispered. ‘And know that you are more to me than life, and I have no regret.'”

One of my favorite things about this series, which stood out to me particularly in this book, is how human and realistic the characters’ actions and reactions are. Even when some of them do bad things, their circumstances are explained in such a way that whether or not the reader may agree with the choices, they are always comprehensible. This series is an emotional roller coaster that spans the entire range of human feeling, which, I believe, is what makes the ever-moving plot so exciting. When the Frasers are dealt a difficult blow, the reader feels the anger or sorrow necessary to that moment, but also an anticipation of their longer-term response. How will they cope? With retaliation, or forgiveness? Will it strengthen them or tear them apart? We don’t wish for strife to plague the Frasers, but strife is exactly what makes these books so addicting. I sincerely hope Jamie and Claire find their happy ending eventually, but…not too soon, because lives in which nothing goes wrong are considerably less fun to read about. On the other hand, there’s definitely an interesting contrast (which I thoroughly enjoy, when it’s successful) between the rational human responses these characters display, and the completely unlikely chance that so many problems of such a vast array would arise for a single family. I must admit that I was worried about this series starting to drag eventually, considering the length of the books, but I’m happy to say that I don’t think it’s reached that point yet. The characters’ personalities remain consistent, as far as basic morals and principles go, but their attitudes toward other characters and events develop in time, so that each new plot twist brings an entirely new set of emotional challenges to the forefront.

Something else I found interesting in this book was my interest in Young Ian, Jamie’s nephew. Each book in this series seems to branch out a little more with the introduction of new characters and then the adoption of new perspectives of narration to follow these additions more closely. Ian was particularly interesting to me because he appeared very suddenly, and then wouldn’t go away. I think I started caring about him just because Jamie did, and I got used to having him around. By the time I started Drums of Autumn (book 4), I couldn’t imagine the story continuing without him, which surprised me since the narration of Voyager didn’t give us much of a first-hand account of his experiences–rather, we hear about his life through the dialogue and eyes of more prominent characters. And yet, somehow Ian becomes one of the most important.

Speaking of emerging characters…Lord John Grey is (re)introduced in this book, and while I didn’t feel particularly strongly about him either way in Voyager, he does have all the makings of an important character. Which is good, because he has his own subseries that fits into the time frame of the years while Claire and Jamie were apart, and can be read any time after Voyager. I usually end my reviews with further recommendations, but I kept thinking of films in relation to this book, rather than literature. Maybe I just haven’t read enough books about pirates? Recommendations, anyone? Anyway, I haven’t delved too deeply into the Lord John books yet, but as far as I am I do think that they bring more depth to his character, and if you’re at all interested in him or just in reading more of Gabaldon’s work, you may want to check those out. And for anyone wondering about the films I was reminded of by Voyager,  the top two were the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series (similarities include pirates, the Caribbean, and the supernatural), and the TV show LOST (similarities include islands, time travel/other supernatural elements, and oddly coincidental–or perhaps not–connections between the characters). For more recommendations, check out my other Outlander series reviews.

My reaction: 5 or 5 stars. Like many third books, this has been my favorite part of the Outlader series by far. I couldn’t sleep while I was reading this book because I had to find out what would happen next, and I don’t regret a single second of the exhaustion that led to.

As always, feel free to send comments or recommendations my way!

Up next: On a little break from Outlander books, I’ll post updates next on Robert Galbraith (J. K. Rowling)’s  The Silkworm and Career of Evil, the last two books of the Cormoran Strike series. For my thoughts on The Cuckoo’s Calling, the first book of this series, click here.

Whatever you’re reading, I hope it’s brilliant!


The Literary Elephant

Update: you can now read my review of the 4th book in the Outlander  series, Drums of Autumn!

Review: Dragonfly in Amber

This review is for the second book in Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander series, and while I’ll try to avoid giving any big spoilers and keep this post interesting to readers at any juncture of the Outlander series, I won’t recap the events of the first book. Check out my previous post for my impressions of the first book here.


Outlander was great, and intriguing enough that I immediately sought the second book of this series from the library, but it was Dragonfly in Amber that sparked my obsession with Gabaldon’s characters. There were some I couldn’t stand, some I wanted to live forever (even if they possessed only fictional lives), but I wanted to know everything about everyone, and this was the book that made me certain I would have to read the entire series.

About the book: Claire and her daughter, Brianna, journey to Scotland after Frank’s death and seek help with a research project of Claire’s from Roger Wakefield (the son of Frank’s friend the Reverend Wakefield from Outlander). With Frank gone and Brianna grown, Claire’s curiosity about acquaintances left behind in the 1740’s has finally pushed her to seek answers to questions she’s been afraid to ask for many years. Claire also wants to find some way to tell Brianna about the significance of the stones at Craigh na Dun, and her experiences with the past. On an expedition with Roger and Brianna to a graveyard where she encounters two markers that surprise her, Claire stops wondering how to begin and starts telling her story to both of them. She tells of living with Jamie Fraser in France, their attempt to stop the uprising of Charles Stuart from ruining the tradition of clans in Scotland, and their efforts to survive and save their friends when the fighting breaks out. Claire’s present request for Roger is to discover what happened to various acquaintances after the disastrous battle at Culloden during which Jamie sent Claire back to the future to keep her safe. The book ends with a cliffhanger discovery in the research project and an unrelated reveal about Geillis’s involvement with the stones and the past.

This book deals a lot with morals and politics (one of which is very interesting to me and one of which is generally not). There are a lot more mysterious characters in this one compared to Outlander, and more supernatural elements. Overall, it felt very different than the first book, because the challenges the characters face are very different in nature than the more basic struggles for survival in Scotland of Outlander. In all honesty, Dragonfly in Amber is my least favorite of the series of the four I’ve read so far, but Jamie and Claire’s relationship is pleasantly solid here, and and this was the book that inspired my recent Outlander obsession.

“‘If I must endure two hundred years of purgatory, two hundred years without you–then that is my punishment, which I have earned for my crimes. For I have lied, and killed, and stolen; betrayed and broken trust. But there is the one thing that shall lie in the balance. When I shall stand before God, I shall have one thing to say, to weigh against the rest.’ His voice dropped, nearly to a whisper, and his arms tightened around me. ‘Lord, ye gave me a rare woman, and God! I loved her well.'”

Best aspect: Gabaldon is a master of characterization. I attributed my enjoyment of the first book largely to an interest in the fast-moving plot, but with the way that this second book is told from the future, the plot is a little less intense (we know that Claire will live, that she’ll return to the 1900’s, and that she expects from the beginning that Culloden will be disastrous), and therefore I spent more of my time through this second book appreciating all the nuances of character which are possible primarily because of the length of the Outlander books. It was even exciting to read about the return of characters I disliked because I knew that some new facet of personality was about to surface, whether through a new plot thread or a character’s internal reflection. Gabaldon creates characters that make things happen, and I think that’s why I like these books so much, despite…

Least favorite aspect: the predictability of some of the main plot points. Since the characters are so clear and consistent, nearly every moment that I’m forced to stop reading in the middle of one of the Outlander books is spent speculating the choices that they’ll make. By the second book, I knew the characters well enough to have a good idea of what they would do, minus the unforeseen circumstances that always complicate things. But as far as who’s going to time travel, which people will stay together, who can afford to die without killing the series, etc. there aren’t many surprises. Between the foreshadowing, and basic knowledge of the characters, you always know Claire will have a friend to swoop in and save her at the last minute, Jamie is resourceful and has enough disregard for his own safety that he routinely escapes certain death and finds some way to save the people he cares about at any personal cost, the bad guys are notoriously hard to get rid of, and the number of people who set out on a journey will probably not be equal to the number of people who return. So when the reader knows that a character has an important choice, the impending result is clear. That said, the split-second decisions that are explained after-the-fact, and the appearance of new and unknown characters keep things interesting. Therefore, even if you know Claire well enough to predict that she wants to travel back through the stones and has enough determination to get there, the fun is in the misadventures that inevitably befall her along the way.

About the writing: for a story so focused on time, the pace of this series is often confusing and sometimes frustrating. My biggest complaint about this book was the opening, when the narration starts describing Claire’s presence in Scotland and takes its own sweet time describing exactly what she’s looking for, and why. I do think that the story benefited from the picture it gave of Claire, Brianna, and Roger in the 1960’s, but there are a lot of unanswered questions about how we’d gotten from the end of Outlander to the events at the beginning of Dragonfly in Amber that made the first several chapters such a jarring switch that I barely had enough patience to read through it all without skipping ahead. Outlander left us on a hopeful note between Jamie and Claire, and suddenly Jamie was nowhere to be found with no explanation given. The reasons for this technique became apparent (Claire had been trying not to think of Jamie much for years, and we didn’t need to see her deciding to undertake this research project, nor would we have wanted to wait to hear about it in the aftermath of the story she tells about the Uprising), but it felt frustratingly slow all the same. In this book there were also more switches in character focus, giving us closer looks at Roger and Brianna for the first time (such occurrences become more abundant in upcoming books), which also seemed to slow down the narration in places. Overall, I didn’t think Gabaldon supplied much superfluous detail, but I did wish she had worked out some other timing technique in the writing–maybe flashbacks?–so as not to leave the reader in confused suspense for hundreds of pages. This book alternated between sprints of excitement and virtual stand-stills, sometimes without much transition between.

Overall, even though the second book of a series is almost always my least favorite, I’m still so thrilled about this one that I’d rate it above some of my top picks in other series. I’m giving 4 out of 5 stars, but strongly recommended that if you’ve read the first book already, keep going. This is the one that hooked me. Also, the second season of the Outlander tv show comes out in less than two weeks and will probably focus mostly on this book, if you need any more incentive to pick up Dragonfly in Amber.

Further recommendations:

  1. In retrospect, Dragonfly in Amber was not entirely about France, but that’s certainly the setting that stands out most to me. If you like long books about France with shifting character focus, political wars, and lots of emotion, try Victor Hugo’s Les Miserables.
  2. Check out my other posts on the Outlander series for more!

Coming up next: I’ll continue my Outlander series updates with Voyager, the third book, then take a break from Gabaldon. (Update: click here for the third Outlander book review!)

Happy reading, fellow bibliophiles!


The Literary Elephant

Review: Child 44

Hello, bookworms. To continue my historical fiction fascination of late, today I want to share with you something that I found particularly unique within that category: the first book of the Leo Demidov trilogy, Tom Rob Smith’s Child 44. Outstandingly unexpected, everything about this book draws you in, even as it tries to push you out.


I picked up this book in an effort to round out my reading list; I’ve been reading a myriad of historical fiction stories lately, and even though I’d say this one still fits that bill, it covers a more recent period of history than I tend to prefer. Furthermore, I rarely pick up a story heavily featuring any sort of politics, and those are certainly significant here. Although Child 44 was nothing like what I was expecting, it was also completely different than anything I’d ever read, which made it the best kind of unpredictable that a book can be.

About this book: Set in the 1950’s in Stalinist Russia, one man, calling himself Leo Demidov–I kept picturing Leonardo DiCaprio–who has risen high in the political hierarchy of the military, struggles against falling from the comfortable pedestal of power he’s grown used to. Every word and action is a matter of life or death, and either ignorance or unconscionable malice are required to keep one’s sanity. A single wrong move could ruin an entire family or network of friends, and among the citizens there are planted invisible spies and liars who provoke misbehavior only for the sake of creating more “enemies” to destroy. Leo’s entire existence is shaken as he must confront the matter of separating true friends from false ones, and righting wrongs that have been made not only legal but necessary to survival. When Leo comes into close contact with a series of child murders, he realizes that his government is not only uninterested in finding the real killer, but will refuse to acknowledge that such a man even exists–thus paving the way for the murderer to continue his killing spree indefinitely. Leo finds himself at a professional, personal, and moral crossroads that puts him in the most dangerous situations of his life and draws even his own identity into question.

“While guards were indifferent to whether prisoners lived or died, escape was unpardonable. It made a mockery not only of the guards but of the entire system. No matter who the prisoners were, no matter how unimportant, their escape made them important. The fact that Leo and Raisa were already classified as high-profile counterrevolutionaries would make their escape a matter of countrywide significance. Once the train had come to a stop and the guards had noticed the dead body caught up in the wire, a count would be done of all the prisoners. The escapees’ carriage would be identified; questions would be asked. If answers weren’t given prisoners might be shot. Leo hoped that someone would be sensible enough to tell the truth immediately. Those men and women had already done more than their share to help them. Even if they confessed there was no guarantee that the guards wouldn’t make an example out of the entire carriage.”

On Smith’s writing techniques: I began reading Child 44 with the impression that this book was a murder mystery. Even the title, referring to the first of the dead children that Leo comes across, suggests this. I can’t deny that there is a mysterious set of murderers taking place in the story. And yet, I never felt that what I was reading was a murder mystery. I think a big part of this is just the fact that Smith is a great world-builder. There’s so much careful detail about the places in which the characters find themselves and background about the rules operating in these places that they feel very real. Even more significantly, Smith writes his characters impeccably well. The point of view shifts from person to person easily, almost imperceptibly, and gives just as much depth to each. Hundreds of pages pass with this level of attention given equally to the people and places and politics surrounding Leo’s life before he even begins to piece together a case for the murders.

The plot involving the murders hardly seemed to be a driving force for me in the story at all. It was hard to pin down exactly what held my interest so strongly, since nothing even remotely good happens for any of the characters until more than 350 pages have passed. Every apparent success is abruptly revealed as a greater problem. In a book with fewer than 500 pages, that’s a significant chunk of the story the reader must pass before gaining any sense of hope for the outcome. After giving some thought to what kept me invested for so long, I determined that Child 44 was more of a story about surviving Stalinist Russia than solving a murder case. The murderer poses no threat for Leo or his wife, but it was concern for their safety, and worry about the other government agents, and indignation for the innocent citizens that kept me interested in what would happen next, even enough to check out the second book of the series, The Secret Speech. There are few characters more interesting in literature than the ones who are kicked down over and over again, and seemingly without reason, never stop getting back up. Smith has provided an array of these characters, and although I did appreciate the plot, I think this book is worth reading purely for the sake of the compelling way in which it was written.

To wrap up: There are definitely some disturbing details in this book. People are killed, tortured, starved, hunted, abused, misled, etc. and that is what made the matter of survival so emotionally involving in Child 44. You need a strong stomach for this one, but if you have that, don’t miss this series. I give 4.5 out of 5 stars. I believe there’s also been a movie made recently of the first book of the series, if you’re interested in checking that out. I haven’t watched it yet, but I always end up watching the film versions of books I’ve read.

Further recommendations:

  1. Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina is the only other book I can remember reading that’s set in Russia, and even though it’s nothing like Child 44, it kept coming to mind as I was reading. I love the sound of Russian names, and there are some truly beautiful places there, as well. It’s an interesting place to read about, and Anna Karenina doesn’t take as strong a stomach if you’re interested in experiencing Russia through literature but are unsure if Child 44 is the right book to start with.
  2. Although the book takes place across Europe in more modern times rather than in Russia’s past, James Patterson’s The Postcard Killers may be more interesting to readers attracted to the horrors of murder that appear in Child 44. This one is definitely a murder mystery, but I found the characters and the personal connection of the detective to the case interesting in that story in ways similar to my appreciation for the characters and plot of Smith’s book. If you’ve read either of these books, you may be interested in the other.

What’s next: I’ve posted about a few first-in-a-series books over the last few weeks that I’m thinking about following up on now that I’ve read more of the later books. These include Galbraith/Rowling’s Cormoran Strike trilogy, Gabaldon’s Outlander series, and now Smith’s Leo Demidov trilogy, and I’ll probably want to do full posts for each of the further books I’ve read so I’ll have room to talk about each story in its own right, and then compare to the series at large a little. If you’re anxious for any of those reviews, let me know and I’ll plan my posts according to interest. Otherwise, I’ll write them in the order I read them. If I post again before I’ve decided how to undertake the follow-ups project, I’ll talk about Sara Blaedel’s The Forgotten Girls, which I read with Child 44, thinking they’d be somewhat similar. They’re not really, beyond that they include murders, but I found it interesting enough to want to share.

Don’t hesitate to share any questions, comments, or suggestions you may have with me! I’d love to hear what you think, or even just what you’re reading. 🙂


The Literary Elephant


Review: Outlander

Hello, rapacious and reluctant readers alike! Today I’m sharing my take on Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander. I’ll talk a little about my take on the series in general, but I’ll mostly be focusing on the first book for this review.


Although this is not a new series, it recently experienced a resurgence in popularity, and I first heard about it this winter through another interested friend. After having read the synopsis (I usually prefer not to even read the back covers of books before I read them so that I start with as few preconceptions as possible), my first impression of Outlander (and it’s sequel, Dragonfly in Amber) was that it was slow about getting started. However, I also knew before reading that people commonly have difficulty categorizing this book, which was an anomaly I had to experience for myself, so I stuck with it and I’m glad I did.

About this book: I must admit, it is practically impossible to categorize, as far as genre goes. It could fit under thriller, science fiction, romance, historical fiction (and probably more, but those would be my top choices), but the book wouldn’t be accurately represented by any single genre. Why?

Outlander opens in Scotland in 1945, just after the end of the war. The main character, Claire, worked as a field nurse on the front lines, and is visiting Scotland with her husband, Frank, on a second honeymoon/vacation to get reacquainted with a man she’s hardly seen in years. While she’s there, she visits a circle of standing stones where she is pulled through time. (Slight pet peeve: the time gap is frequently referred to as a 200 year difference, but it’s actually 202 years that Claire goes back, landing in 1743. Since the years are historically important, the rounding of those 202 years was a bit confusing at first.) Claire immediately wanders away from the stones because she doesn’t realize what’s happened, and then makes a whole slew of new friends and enemies as she fights for survival and concocts various schemes to get back to 1945, and Frank.

“In truth, [Roger] had no idea whether Claire Randall w0uld ever be all right. She was alive, at least, and that was all he could vouch for. They had found her, senseless in the grass near the edge of the circle, white as the rising moon above, with nothing but the slow, dark seep of blood from her abraded palms to testify that her heart still beat. Of the hellish journey down the path to the car, her dead weight slung across his shoulder, bumping awkwardly as stones rolled under his feet and twigs snatched at his clothing, he preferred to remember nothing.”

This quote is actually from book 2 in this series, but I think it sums up the emotions of time travel in this series perfectly.

Notes on the layout: The main reason I thought Outlander started slowly was because the premise of the book is time travel, but Claire spends a good bit of time with Frank in 1945 before the sci-fi elements of the book come into play. Later on, when Claire is struggling back to Frank, it’s nice to have some context of their lives to understand her motivation, and I didn’t really have any complaint about the pages dedicated to 1945 once I understood their significance. Another technical aspect of this book that stood out to me was the constantly shifting plot. Every hundred pages or so (there are almost 700 in the first book, and as the series goes on the books grow) seemed to have an entirely different focus than the last hundred pages. This is part of what makes the book so difficult to classify, and also why it makes such a great TV series; for those wondering, the episodes of the Outlander show follow the book very closely, and are rated R for good reason. Both the book and the TV show feature some pretty gruesome details of injury and torture in the 1700s, as well as a plethora of sexual scenes. Both of these aspects surprised me, but they ended up fitting into the novel rather well, and they were definitely easier to read about than watch on screen.

Further miscellaneous thoughts: Outlander reads like a soap opera. Old characters come back to pop up at the most convenient/inconvenient times, every time one problem is solved another one arises that takes the whole story in a new direction, and each situation is more intense than the last. Death is a constant threat in the 1700’s, but Claire uses her medical training to keep her friends alive and keep herself occupied while she’s stuck in old-time Scotland. It sounds like a beautiful and wonderful place, no matter what time you visit; that said, there’s very little leisure time for the characters to enjoy their surroundings. Claire and her companions are always doing something extreme, whether it’s running for their lives, falling in love, fighting to the death, or outsmarting ill-meaning leaders. I have to admit that as crazy as Claire’s journey seems at times, I loved and hated the good and evil characters (respectively) of this series more strongly than I have cared about any other characters in a while. It’s also interesting that an ancestor Frank was researching during their vacation turns up repeatedly in Claire’s adventures through the past, and although he looks identical to Claire’s husband, his personality is subpar, to put it mildly.

Is it a favorite? I’m currently in the third book of the series, and Outlander did take a spot on my list of top books for the last year, but I suspect the obsession will be short lived. By the time I create my list of favorites next year, Outlander will probably be out of my system. Although I am very attached to a few of the characters, I wasn’t overly impressed with the writing itself. There are some great one-or-two-line quotes throughout, but I know my reading preferences well enough to see that it’s the intense plot and love story that’s holding my attention, and once the mystery of what happens next is gone, my excitement for this series will probably have been exhausted. However, I am giving 4 out of 5 stars, and pointing out that I’m determined to making it through this series even though each book I’ve picked up so far has been around 700 pages. That’s no small commitment, and even though I’m not sure this book is a forever love for me, it’s definitely a series I can’t get enough of right now and am eager to suggest.

Further recommendations:

  1. I was strongly reminded of George R. R. Martin’s A Game of Thrones while reading Outlander, and I would definitely recommend these two series together. If you like sword fights, political power struggles, and a big cast of characters you never know whether to trust, both of these hit the mark.
  2. Time travel and romance make Audrey Niffinegger’s The Time Traveler’s Wife an obvious comparison here. There’s not much of a historical aspect to Niffenegger’s book, so don’t expect any sword fights, but if it’s Claire’s epic romance you enjoy most about Outlander, you’ll probably enjoy the other Claire’s love story in The Time Traveler’s Wife as well.
  3. If you’re looking for something a little more YA, you might want to check out Kami Garcia’s and Margaret Stohl’s Beautiful Creatures series.There’re more fantasy elements and less focus on time travel, but if you’re looking for something a little more PG, I think there are some similarities between genres and themes here that make these a good fit if you’re not so thrilled about the sex and violence of Outlander.

What’s next: I’ll be reviewing Leslie Parry’s Church of Marvels, a novel about the convergence of seemingly unrelated lives when a beloved member of a Coney Island carnival/sideshow goes missing after a tragic fire.

Questions or comments? Feel free to let me know what you think about my Outlander impressions, and include any recommendations you may have for me!


The Literary Elephant

P.S. click here for a review of the next book in this series, Dragonfly in Amber.