Warning, you might not want to click the Read More if you’re an Outlander fan. And if you are a fan and you decide to click, please don’t hold it against me.
I feel truly, genuinely sad when I think about what a bitter disappointment Outlander turned out to be for me. I have rarely been so excited to get into a new series, and I was just so sure it was going to become my new obsession, because how could it not? It had so many of the things I love! Amazing female characters, Jacobites, Scotland, spies, glorious scenery, costume porn, Lotte Verbeek in costume porn, a charismatic cast, beautiful opening credits, a stunning soundtrack, and there appeared to be an active and enthusiastic fandom. I was so sure I’d love it that I even changed my url briefly to an Outlander-inspired one before I’d ever read the books or watched the show.
But then I started reading the first book, and, well, I’ve talked enough in the past about it that you’re all well aware of my issues with this series. As I read, I could feel myself becoming more and more deflated, more and more turned off, until I finally gave up entirely on both the books and the show.
I know I’m being overly dramatic, but thinking about it makes me sincerely sad. Watching the opening credits still gives me that giddy sort of fannish thrill you get when you think you’re about to watch something you’re really, really going to love, and just, ugh, it could have been so great. WE COULD HAVE HAD IT ALL.