Welcome to Dram & Dish, where we talk our favorite shows, with a little food & drink on the side.
One of my favorites is Outlander. If you’ve just found my page, you most likely just finished Outlander. Now what?
First of all, welcome to the club. Outlander is a fabulous show based off of the book series by Diana Gabaldon, and is one of my all-time favorites. It’s like an all-you-can-eat buffet filled with a little mystery, fantasy, science fiction, medical drama, romance, historical fiction, action, and everything else in-between. Whether you’ve been a longtime fan from when the first book was published, or you just binged the entire tv series, you’re welcome at the table.
I first started Outlander in 2018 not long after my second child was born. My husband and I are both music teachers. We had decided I would stay home and take care of our kids instead of over half of my measly teacher salary going to daycare. My husband was kind and would rather get a second job to make up the difference. So I was home with two kids under the age of two. Over the holidays, Starz was running a free trial so we signed up so we could watch some holiday movies. I had been curious about Outlander for a while. I’ve always loved historical fiction, romance, and fantasy. One of my early favorite books were The Chronicles of Narnia by C.S. Lewis, which naturally progressed to JRR Tolkien’s The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. I had read L. Frank Baum’s entire Wizard of Oz series (or as many as my local library had). I loved immersing myself in a new world. So naturally, in my scrolling on the news and social media, I’d see articles and reviews about Outlander and it would pique my interest. But I couldn’t quite fire up the stove, so to speak. It’s like pouring over recipes on Pinterest and planning a week’s worth of meals ahead of time and getting all the ingredients at the grocery store, but when you come home from work, you are so worn out that ordering a pizza is a lot easier. It also didn’t help that my husband is all about DIY shows, whether it’s for home, yard, or mechanical. So convincing him to watch something else was usually a challenge. I figured if I couldn’t get him to watch Dr. Who, there wasn’t much hope for Outlander. So one night, when I was up late nursing my son, I decided it was finally time to try and order something new off the menu. And it’s been quite the smorgasbord ever since.
Watching Outlander is like eating chocolate, you can never have just one. I was fortunate that when I started, season 4 was airing. So I quickly binged seasons 1-3 and caught up to season 4 as it was finishing. And then the Droughtlander hit. And it was hard. It was like the first time my husband and I gave up sugar and carbs. I just really wanted more of this story. I wasn’t sure if I should start reading the books. Sometimes reading the books can enrich the show. And sometimes it can ruin it because you know what’s coming or what should be coming and you can be very disappointed if it doesn’t live up to your expectations. It’s like when your friend tells you about an amazing new restaurant and how good the food is and how amazing the atmosphere is. However, when you go to that restaurant, the atmosphere is meh, the food isn’t that good or you know you could make the same entree at home with more flavor and for less money.
So I consumed blogs and articles about Outlander until I finally couldn’t take it anymore and broke down and read all 8 of the main books (at that time) in about 5 months. And then I worked through the novellas. While I was so enriched by the story and had so many wonderful ideas about the books and show, I had no one to share it with. So I finally dipped my toe into the podcast realm, which helped me find some social media groups of Outlander fans, and I was able to finally discuss Outlander with other people. Then Covid hit as Season 5 was finishing. One of my social media groups started a book club and started working through different books on a weekly basis. And I made friends with a lovely group of women from different walks of life who loved Outlander like I did. I was too nervous at first to really participate in the weekly book club. I lurked in the background, quietly observing their observations and comments. Some had been fans for years or even had the original book that was published as “Cross-Stitch” in the UK. They had been to fan events and had even talked with Diana. They were delving deep and talking about themes and writing craft. Who was I to say anything? I had always been a bookworm but had never had anyone to talk to about my books. And then one day I worked up the courage to comment and voice my opinion. It was met with kindness and enthusiasm. So I slowly started voicing my sillier, humorous takes on Outlander. It was again met with kindness, enthusiasm, and even provided some comical relief from the darker themes in Outlander or more serious occurrences happening in real life all around us. We had online holidays parties, show premier parties, launch parties, Christmas cards lists, holiday gift exchanges, as well as providing support through personal joys and losses.
There’s just something about Outlander that brings people together. In one of Diana’s many interviews, she mentioned a woman who didn’t have any friends until she started attending conventions and meeting other Outlander fans. She told Diana, “thanks to you, I now have friends.”
Diana also somewhat references this phenomenon in her sixth book, “A Breath of Snow and Ashes,” when Claire is checking Tom Christie’s hand (#spoilers, if you haven’t read beyond book 6 or watched past season 6). Jamie has a good memory and had even entire books memorized or could remember most of the details. And to bring up morale in the prison, he’d retell the stories to the men around him. Tom Christie was in prison with Jamie and recounts it to Claire:
He was turning the pages of Tom Jones slowly, lips pursed in concentration. Evidently Henry Fielding would do as anesthetic for the job at hand; I shouldn’t need to fetch a Bible.
“Do you read novels?” I asked, meaning no rudeness, but merely surprised that he might countenance anything so frivolous.
He hesitated. “Yes. I—yes.” He took a very deep breath as I submerged his hand in the bowl, but it contained only water, soaproot, and a very small amount of alcohol, and he let the breath go with a sigh.
“Have you read Tom Jones before?” I asked, making conversation to relax him.
“Not precisely, though I know the story. My wife—”
He stopped abruptly. He’d never mentioned his wife before; I supposed that it was sheer relief at not experiencing agony yet that had made him talkative. He seemed to realize that he must complete the sentence, though, and went on, reluctantly. “My wife … read novels.”
“Did she?” I murmured, setting about the job of debridement. “Did she like them?”
“I suppose that she must have.”
There was something odd in his voice that made me glance up from the job at hand. He caught the glance and looked away, flushing.
“I—did not approve of reading novels. Then.”
He was quiet for a moment, holding his hand steady. Then he blurted, “I burnt her books.”
That sounded rather more like the response I would have expected of him.
“She couldn’t have been pleased about that,” I said mildly, and he shot me a startled glance, as though the question of his wife’s reaction was so irrelevant as to be unworthy of remark.
“Ah … what caused you to alter your opinion?” I asked, concentrating on the bits of debris I was picking out of the wound with my forceps. Splinters and shreds of bark. What had he been doing? Wielding a club of some kind, I thought—a tree branch? I breathed deeply, concentrating on the job to avoid thinking of the bodies in the clearing.
He moved his legs restively; I was hurting him a bit now.
“I—it—in Ardsmuir.”
“What? You read it in prison?”
“No. We had no books there.” He took a long breath, glanced at me, then away, and fixed his eyes on the corner of the room, where an enterprising spider had taken advantage of Mrs. Bug’s temporary absence to set up web-keeping.
“In fact, I have never actually read it. Mr. Fraser, though, was accustomed to recount the story to the other prisoners. He has a fine memory,” he added, rather grudgingly.
Yes, he does,” I murmured. “I’m not going to stitch it; it will be better if the wound’s left to heal by itself. I’m afraid the scar won’t be as neat,” I added regretfully, “but I think it will heal up all right.”
I spread salve thickly over the injury, and pulled the edges of the wound together as tightly as I could, without cutting off the circulation. Bree had been experimenting with adhesive bandages, and had produced something quite useful in the way of small butterfly shapes, made of starched linen and pine tar.
“So you liked Tom Jones, did you?” I said, returning to the subject. “I shouldn’t have thought you’d find him an admirable character. Not much of a moral example, I mean.”
“I don’t,” he said bluntly. “But I saw that fiction”—he pronounced the word gingerly, as though it were something dangerous—“is perhaps not, as I had thought, merely an inducement to idleness and wicked fancy.”“Oh, isn’t it?” I said, amused, but trying not to smile because of my lip. “What are its redeeming characteristics, do you think?”
“Aye, well.” His brows drew together in thought “I found it most remarkable. That what is essentially nothing save a confection of lies should somewise still contrive to exert a beneficial effect. For it did,” he concluded, sounding still rather surprised.
“Really? How was that?”
He tilted his head, considering.
“It was distraction, to be sure. In such conditions, distraction is not evil,” he assured me. “While it is of course more desirable to escape into prayer …”
“Oh, of course,” I murmured.”
“But beyond that consideration … it drew the men together. You would not think that such men—Highlanders, crofters—that they would find themselves in particular sympathy with … such situations, such persons.” He waved his free hand at the book, indicating such persons as Squire Allworthy and Lady Bellaston, I supposed.
“But they would talk it over for hours—whilst we labored the next day, they would wonder why Ensign Northerton had done as he had with regard to Miss Western, and argue whether they themselves would or would not have behaved so.” His face lightened a little, recalling something. “And invariably, a man would shake his head and say, ‘At least I’ve never been treated in that manner!’ He might be starved, cold, covered in sores, permanently separated from his family and customary circumstances—and yet he could take comfort in never having suffered such vicissitudes as had befallen these imaginary beings!”
He actually smiled, shaking his head at the thought, and I thought the smile much improved him.
Good stories (whether told via audiobook, printed text, or through visual mediums like play, tv shows, and movies) have the ability to bring people together, much like going out for a drink with friends after work or having people over for dinner. All of this to say is, I’m glad you found your way here. Here’s to many more discussions of Outlander.
Slainte!
I’d love to hear how Outlander found you. Please tell me in comment section below.