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bartlebies 's review for:
Lord John and the Private Matter
by Diana Gabaldon
It can only be surmised that I had been possessed before deciding to read this. After the horrific experience reading “Outlander”, I don’t know why I thought this might be better.
Lord John is a very minor character in the original Outlander series who now has his own series of novels and novellas that follow his Sherlockian goings on in 18th century London. Frankly, not my cup of tea. But Lord John is gay and that was enough to pique my interest and force me to read 300 pages of mildly offensive mediocrity. After having been thoroughly disgusted by “Outlander”, I turned to Lord John’s first novella. Gabaldon can write, there’s no doubt about that. Even if her views of heterosexual romance are disconcerting at best, perhaps her gay character might bring some relief.
Boy was I wrong. The novella was fine. An interesting story that was vaguely overshadowed by the author’s insistence to remind the reader that LORD JOHN IS SUPER GAY ALL THE TIME!!, I enjoyed it nonetheless. But the first novel of the series was frankly shocking. Our Lord John is incredibly sexist and classist and racist and just about every -ist you can be. But we’re supposed to be rooting for this guy? We’re supposed to feel bad that his lover died while he disparages Claire for existing.
Top it off with some light pedophilia, and we’ve got the worst protagonist ever!
I like myself an unlikeable protagonist. But only when it’s done well and on purpose. In this case, once again, Gabaldon expects her audience to forgive the slights of her characters on the grounds of historical accuracy. And if this novel were written by Diana Gabaldon, born 1757, I might let it slide. But the fact of the matter is, Gabaldon is a modern writer writing for modern readers. As they say, fiction does not exist in a vacuum and Gabaldon refuses to acknowledge that her writing is offensive and dangerous to readers whose first interaction with a gay lead is very likely John Grey, asshole extreme.
But the writing, as always, is amazing. She is clearly well-researched and that certainly counts for something. I just won’t be subjecting myself to her gross universe again.
Lord John is a very minor character in the original Outlander series who now has his own series of novels and novellas that follow his Sherlockian goings on in 18th century London. Frankly, not my cup of tea. But Lord John is gay and that was enough to pique my interest and force me to read 300 pages of mildly offensive mediocrity. After having been thoroughly disgusted by “Outlander”, I turned to Lord John’s first novella. Gabaldon can write, there’s no doubt about that. Even if her views of heterosexual romance are disconcerting at best, perhaps her gay character might bring some relief.
Boy was I wrong. The novella was fine. An interesting story that was vaguely overshadowed by the author’s insistence to remind the reader that LORD JOHN IS SUPER GAY ALL THE TIME!!, I enjoyed it nonetheless. But the first novel of the series was frankly shocking. Our Lord John is incredibly sexist and classist and racist and just about every -ist you can be. But we’re supposed to be rooting for this guy? We’re supposed to feel bad that his lover died while he disparages Claire for existing.
Top it off with some light pedophilia, and we’ve got the worst protagonist ever!
I like myself an unlikeable protagonist. But only when it’s done well and on purpose. In this case, once again, Gabaldon expects her audience to forgive the slights of her characters on the grounds of historical accuracy. And if this novel were written by Diana Gabaldon, born 1757, I might let it slide. But the fact of the matter is, Gabaldon is a modern writer writing for modern readers. As they say, fiction does not exist in a vacuum and Gabaldon refuses to acknowledge that her writing is offensive and dangerous to readers whose first interaction with a gay lead is very likely John Grey, asshole extreme.
But the writing, as always, is amazing. She is clearly well-researched and that certainly counts for something. I just won’t be subjecting myself to her gross universe again.