Post Kiltum Depression: The Winter of Her Discontent
“But look, yon light in that window breaks—‘tis the moon on the arse of Jamie Fraser, and yer mother needs a moment alone.”
–Himlet, Act 2
And so, the long grind of winter sets upon Outlander fans, blissfully filled with minor events such as “Thanksgiving”, and “Christmas” and “Boxing Day”, serving to fill their hearts with the business of celebration while Jamie Frasier endures a five month squat in a freezing window.
I couldn’t be more thankful. Before I draw the ire of legions, allow to me explain.
I recently began listening to the Outlander novels while I run. There are some obvious comments, such as– audio books bring an entire new experience to the story, they enrich my views of the characters, and Davina Porter has, by now, received my offer to narrate my life in live action.
“Terry was never discrete when selecting cheeses at the market,” intones the narrator, “but the Roquefort appealed to the very heart of his roguish nature.” If she cashes the check, prepare to be wowedby my simplest actions. She’s thatgood.
Unfortunately, Davina has captured the vile heart of Black Jack Randall, too, and that’s where the trouble starts, because her skill as a voice actress is interfering with my workout regimen. I run for health purposes. You know, maintaining the ole’ ticker and all that, but listening to Davina voice the predations of Black Jack leaves me alternately curling my hands in anger or standing, stock still, with hands on hips and a look of utter disgust on my face when I revisit what happened in Fort William.
Since I run in a family-friendly park, people tend to give me a wide berth while discreetly noting my description. Male. Face like a bucket of worms. Hates someone named Jack. Could stand to lose a few pounds, but won’t if he just stands there.Davina is so skilled, I find myself wondering if anyone will have the courage to dress as Black Jack— the realBlack Jack—for Halloween.
Now, a note about courage.
Let us discuss actor (and apparently delightful human) Tobias Menzies: a man who actually attended high school with other people, graduated from college with an advanced degree, takes his craft seriously, likes dogs, and by all accounts, is a professional, charming, dedicated person to work with. For all we know, this gentleman may end up curing cancer and settling Mars at some point, but I’d like to draw attention to the enormity of his decision to play Jack Randall. Is it a tremendous career opportunity? Of course. Will millions of women regard him. . . differently, now?
Why yes, Tobias. Yes they will.
I’ll simply say that Tobias better cut his food into small bites for the remainder of his natural life, because if he chokes in public, every woman in the restaurant will encircle him like malevolent druids, chanting, “You like that, you wee bastard? HAVE ANOTHER!” while kicking him into a pulp. Tobias, as one man to another: dine at home, eat toast, and chew your food well.
I’ve found my interest drifting to casting issues for the upcoming episodes. I love the periphery of Outlander; as a writer, the minor characters bolster a scene, as a reader they make it rich and detailed. There are major considerations at stake with the casting of Brianna. After all, this is the fruit of Jamie’s and Claire’s passions, and thus will be a critical addition to the experience. It’s also an issue that has wildly divergent answers based on who you ask.
If you ask a female Outlander fan, the answer might be something like this:
“Oh. My. God. She should be smart and funny and shy and a little bit uncertain at first, but then she totally falls in love with Roger but only after she realized how smart and sort of tough in a nerdy brilliant way, and you really have to use the line where she describes his green eyes as ‘groovy’. She has to make you think about Sa- I mean, Jamie, and she should have the perfect accent but not to be too young because I don’t want anyone showing Cait up in set and I will neverforgive them if they cast someone with the wrong color eyes”—
Ask an Outmander about casting Brianna, and this is what you get:
“A six foot redhead? Sweet Jesus. Yeah, that works.”
You see, men like redheads like women like Jamie. Exactly like that. The next season promises to be a win/win, as long as you can overlook the vampirism, sadism, creepy need for oily buggering, rampant death, destruction, use of cattle, broken bones, disease, famine, did I say death, and forced hugging while pleading for cooing about love.
But I’m not complaining. We’ve got redheads.
Until next time, friends. Stop by my blog, check out my paranormal books, stalk me at will. It’s been a pleasure.