Got that? And we go downhill from there, with men stopping in the street overcome with desire for her, and the hero ranting again about her amazingness and her "core of strength" under all the beautiful delicacy BLAH BLAH BLAH. But at forty-nine and after having a child she is still effortlessly hotter than you, reader, will ever be. This woman is not written as the type of person who would ever, ever work out.
From the heroine's "one of my best friends is black but my daughter had better never date one" to the portrayal of the "Chinaman" that had me repeatedly turning to the copyright information all, "I didn't misread that date this was written in 1994, right? As in, the late twentieth century? WTF, Gabaldon?", there were large chunks of this I could barely read for cringing.Īlso bad: when the heroine does re-enter the story, she does so with a vengeance, beginning with her appraisal of her forty-nine-year-old body as perfectly slim and muscled, with no fat whatsover, "no jiggle" in the arms and a stomach the flatness of which "borders on concavity". The bad: Gabaldon has replaced the homophobia with breathtaking racism. Show More who are featured are much more interesting.
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