The Saucy Wenches Book Club

Jamie stood beside Brianna with that utter stillness that so frightened me—straight and still as a stick of dynamite, with a lit match laid a hairsbreadth from the fuse.

The flame of Brianna’s head moved slightly, looking from one to the other, and I saw what she saw; the echo of Jamie’s dangerous stillness in Roger. It was both unexpected and shocking; I had never seen any resemblance between them at all—and yet at the moment they might have been day and dark, images of fire and night, each mirroring the other.

MacKenzie, I thought suddenly. Viking beasts, bloody-minded and big. And saw the third echo of that flaming heritage blaze up in Brianna’s eyes, the only thing alive in her face.

~ Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn (Outlander #4)

“I’m reasonably sure the White Sow is beyond redemption, if not actually a demon of some sort.”
~ Diana Gabaldon, Go Tell The Bees That I Am Gone

“Testosterone poisoning,” I said, with a shrug.

“Can you do anything about it”? she asked. The corner of her mouth twitched, though I couldn’t tell whether with laughter or incipient hysteria.

I pushed a hand through my hair, considering.

“Well,” I said finally, “there are only two things they do with it, and one of them is try to kill each other.”

Brianna rubbed her nose.

“Uh-huh”, she said. “And the other …” Our eyes met with a perfect understanding.

“I’ll take care of your father,” I said. “But Roger’s up to you.”

~ Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn (Outlander #4)

“So long as my body lives, and yours—we are one flesh,” he whispered. [snip]

“And when my body shall cease, my soul will still be yours. Claire—I swear by my hope of heaven, I will not be parted from you.”

The wind stirred the leaves of the chestnut trees nearby, and the scents of late summer rose up rich around us; pine and grass and strawberries, sun-warmed stone and cool water, and the sharp, musky smell of his body next to mine.

“Nothing is lost, Sassenach; only changed.”

“That’s the first law of thermodynamics,” I said, wiping my nose.

“No,” he said. “That’s faith.”

~ Diana Gabaldon, Drums of Autumn (Outlander #4)

“This is our time. Until that time stops - for one of us, for both – it is our time. Now. Will you waste it, because you are afraid?”

Followers of our What the Wenches are Reading posts will know that I listened to the audio books of the Outlander series last year. Now, I join the ranks of Outlandians... Outlanders...Sassenachs....I don't actually know what the Outlander fans call themselves, anyway, now I join them in not so patiently awaiting the release of book #9, Go Tell the Bees That I Am Gone. As I finished the series, I was thinking about all of the amazing characters there are that I wouldn't consider main characters. Every single person, no matter if I like them or not, is so well developed and rounded out. Ms. Gabaldon has certainly created a rich and versatile world. And, since I am a sucker for a good side character, here I am to tell you about some of my favorites. Spoilers are a definite, so make sure you are caught up on all of the books before you follow me after the jump!

The only time I would dare to walk through a puddle was at twilight, when the evening stars came out. If I looked in the water and saw one lighted pinprick there, I could splash through unafraid—for if I should fall into the puddle and on into space, I could grab hold of the star as I passed, and be safe.

Voyager, Diana Gabaldon

I’ve been reminiscing about the first romance novels I obsessed over, those infamous “bodice rippers” back in the 1970s. I thought it would be fun to compare them to my favorites now — maybe find some commonalities, or just thank my lucky stars that the genre evolved.

Plus enjoy some smiles, because wherever I might think these books belong on the subjective scale of literary value, I can’t deny they were a lot of fun, and some have stuck with me for all these years.

Bodice ripper surely originated to describe 1970s, post-Harlequin romances, because that’s exactly what they were. Not at all my usual genre. I grew up on dystopian sci-fi and fantasy, then spent four years majoring in English Lit. I wasn’t a snobby reader, but I liked books that challenged me to think and learn while they distracted me with entertainment.

Shortly after I graduated from college, I noticed my mother reading this. I absolutely laughed my arse off.


She got rather defensive about her reading choice, then l…

“…but Sassenach—I am the true home of your heart, and I know that.” 

He lifted my hands to his mouth and kissed my upturned palms, one and then the other, his breath warm and his beard-stubble soft on my fingers.

“I have loved others, and I do love many, Sassenach—but you alone hold all my heart, whole in your hands,” he said softly. “And you know that.”

Written in My Own Heart's Blood by Diana Gabaldon

“Name,” he said abruptly. “I have to have a name. Can’t get married without a name. Just like a cock. Can’t get married without a name; can’t get married without a c—” [...]

Father Fogden blinked, brought back to attention. He made an unsuccessful attempt to stifle another belch, and transferred his bright blue gaze to Fergus.

“You have a name, too? And a cock?”

“Yes,” said Fergus, wisely choosing not to be more specific. “Fergus.”

The priest frowned slightly at this. “Fergus?” he said. “Fergus. Fergus. Yes, Fergus, got that. That’s all? No more name? Need more names, surely.”

“Fergus,” Fergus repeated, with a note of strain in his voice. Fergus was the only name he had ever had—bar his original French name of Claudel. Jamie had given him the name Fergus in Paris, when they had met, twenty years before. But naturally a brothel-born bastard would have no last name to give a wife.

“Fraser,” said a deep, sure voice beside me. Fergus and Marsali both glanced back in surprise, and Jamie nodded.…

“A cold supper, were you thinking? I asked dubiously.

I was not, he said firmly, I mean to light a roaring fire in the kitchen hearth, fry up a dozen eggs in butter, and eat them all, then lay ye down on the hearth rug and roger ye 'till you - is that all right? he inquired, noticing my look.

'Til I what? I asked fascinated by his description of the evening's program.

'Til ye burst into flame and take me with ye, I suppose, he said, and stooping, swooped me up into his arms and carried me across the darkened threshold.”

A Breath of Snow and Ashes by Diana Gabaldon

I recently spent a weekend watching the Faith episode of the Starz series Outlander on an endless loop, and I’m still so emotionally wrung out that I can’t even imagine fangirling about anything else on this Fangirl Friday. It was an absolute masterpiece!

At its heart was a mesmerizing passage through the gut-wrenching depths of loss and forgiveness, anchored by a riveting, award-worthy performance by the stunning Caitriona Balfe as Claire Fraser. Here’s where having a glass face works against the audience, because watching the stages of grief wash across Cait’s face, in all their tragic glory, evoked a tsunami of emotions in me. Her palpably raw anger and despair literally made my chest hurt — for an entire hour.

That is some damn fine acting.

I can’t remember the last time I cried so intensely over fictional characters. This was like experiencing the death of my own family member. It was too real. I still cry whenever I think about it. Like now. I don’t expect that will change, e…

“The dog would run a few steps toward the house, circle once or twice as though unable to decide what to do next, then run back into the wood, turn, and run again toward the house, all the while whining with agitation, tail low and wavering.
"Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ," I said. "Bloody Timmy's in the well!” 

A Breath of Snow and Ashes by Diana Gabaldon

“I’m honest enough to say that I dinna care what the right and wrong of it may be, so long as you are here wi’ me, Claire,” he said softly. “If it was a sin for you to choose me ... then I would go to the Devil himself and bless him for tempting ye to it.” He lifted my foot and gently kissed the tip of my big toe. {snip}

“I don’t think it was wrong,” I said softly. “But if it was ... then I’ll go to the Devil with you, Jamie Fraser.”

~ Dragonfly in Amber, Diana Gabaldon

“There is an oath upon her,” he said to Arch, and I realized dimly that he was still speaking in Gaelic, though I understood him clearly. “She may not kill, save it is for mercy or her life. It is myself who kills for her.”

“And I,” said a tall figure behind him, softly. Ian.

Arch nodded understanding, though his face was still in darkness. Someone else was there beside him—Fergus. I knew him at once, but it took a moment’s struggle for me to put a name to the streaked pale face and wiry figure.

“Madame,” he said, and his voice was thin with shock. “Milady.”

A Breath of Snow and Ashes by Diana Gabaldon