Outlander Finale: Gutted.

Amazing.

I ran out of superlatives about thirty minutes into the episode, and didn’t really process everything until some time later. The key to Outlander is making fictional people as real as the historical figures they’re surrounded by.

Case in point: Bonnie Prince Charlie.

Survey says– throat punch. Good Lord, how did someone like that ever aspire to be anything other than a professional coward? Kudos to Andrew Gower for taking a role playing someone so reviled.

 
And– lest I forget to give credit where it’s due– 

I was on the fence about Sophie Skelton as Brianna. After watching her performance ( and that of Roger Mac, too) I’m all in. Additional fun fact: I was born in 1968, and up until this episode,  I sort of thought people in the 60’s were hairy, kind of stinky, and prone to odd rebellion. It’s delightful to see then characterized as civilized people who enjoy whiskey, soap, and tweed. I was even able to get over her rather normal height of 5’8″.



So, I teach history, and maybe that’s why Outlander has such an emotional punch. I mean, I’m a middle-aged male, I don’t cry during movies, unless it’s Patton or Midway or maybe Godzilla once but dammit that was sad wen I thought he was dead and–

Never mind, the point is that Outlander has an enormous emotional wallop. It seems to be populated with people that I might actually know, despite them being Scottish, and born before me, and wholly fictional. That’s the beauty of it. Outlander also reinforces some stereotypes that, while unfair, certainly do make sense when we see them on camera.



Also, it’s really difficult not to paint the entire United Kingdom as a giant bowl of dicks. They really had a way with people for the past thousand years or so, didn’t they? The windswept heartbreak of Culloden in the modern shots with Claire are haunting– I think that Cait’s acting was supreme. How could you not cry telling the life story of your one true love while on the bones of real people who died screaming in cannon fire? 

For the hundredth time: glad I’m not an actor. 

I’d have to run naked and scream for a week to get rid of the psychic stain of that performance, and in turn, would scar any number of people who saw me naked and screaming. It’s a vicious cycle, people, and I won’t let it happen.

So, now we wait, right? Sigh. Yeah, that’s what I thought. 

I’m going to go write another book or two. I’ve got three planned for this year, three for next. That means I can run and re-listen to the excellent performance of Davina Porter in the Outlander audiobooks. If you haven’t listened, you don’t know what you’re missing!

Have you gotten my newest in the Halfway Witchy series? Why not? How am I going to pay for my giraffe? Get it here!

Help Terry Get His Giraffe, And Stuff.

See you in a week or so with the new cover! I’ve got a new series this September, and I love the characters. The tagline: “Her guardian angel didn’t fall. He was pushed.” Interested? 

Cheers!
Terry

Outlander: No memes. No jokes this week.

What I learned this week:
1. Cait won the Emmy.
2. That episode makes everyone reconsider their own (often painful) history.

I wrote this in 1998 after we lost a child. Hope it holds up over time.

Stillborn
His physician’s coat rustles
as he leaves-
 the door glides shut, to leave my wife
and I alone with the fluorescent hum
of the lights, a cold steel table
and our sadness.
Our spirits as empty as her womb
her shuffle is tender,
towards the door
to the car
each step normal
just like my stop at the nurse.
Her smile is pasty
she hands me my son in a bag.
On the ride home, I stare at his face
hoping he fogs the plastic
but the bag is as still as the air in the car.
We walk, the yard is frosty
she watches me from the window
as I stop near the hickory
and start to dig.
The pit (grave) is tiny
and the walls collapse
on his face.
Bones pull hardest
when they are small.
The walk back to the house is long.
Summers later, we lay rigid
next to each other
the fear of each furtive union causing wonder:
Will I dig again?