Diana Gabaldon: Outlander
Outlander
Buch
- A Novel
- Random House LLC US, 06/1992
- Einband: Kartoniert / Broschiert
- Sprache: Englisch
- ISBN-13: 9780440212560
- Bestellnummer: 6235510
- Umfang: 896 Seiten
- Sonstiges: SCREENED ART ON AD CARD PAGE
- Copyright-Jahr: 2005
- Gewicht: 415 g
- Maße: 172 x 112 mm
- Stärke: 45 mm
- Erscheinungstermin: 2.6.1992
- Serie: Outlander - Band 01
Achtung: Artikel ist nicht in deutscher Sprache!
Weitere Ausgaben von Outlander
Kurzbeschreibung
Die Berührung eines uralten Steins im schottischen Hochland versetzt die junge Claire Randall aus dem Jahr 1945 zurück ins Jahr 1743. Die Umgebung ist die gleiche geblieben, aber die Zeit ist unruhig, geprägt von Kampf, Rebellion, Verrat, Aberglauben und Hexenwahn. Claire, als Fremde beargwöhnt, gerät in tödliche Gefahr. Als Retter in der Not erscheint ihr der verwegene Clanführer mit dem feuerroten Haar, James Fraser. An seiner Seite besteht sie Abenteuer, erlebt Liebe und Leidenschaft.Beschreibung
Claire Randall is leading a double life. She has a husband in one century, and a lover in another...In 1945, Claire Randall, a former combat nurse, is back from the war and reunited with her husband on a second honeymoon--when she innocently touches a boulder in one of the ancient stone circles that dot the British Isles. Suddenly she is a Sassenach - an "outlander" - in a Scotland torn by war and raiding border clans in the year of our Lord...1743.
Hurled back in time by forces she cannot understand, Claire's destiny in soon inextricably intertwined with Clan MacKenzie and the forbidden Castle Leoch. She is catapulted without warning into the intrigues of lairds and spies that may threaten her life ...and shatter her heart. For here, James Fraser, a gallant young Scots warrior, shows her a passion so fierce and a love so absolute that Claire becomes a woman torn between fidelity and desire...and between two vastly different men in two irreconcilable lives.
Rezension
"Absorbing and heartwarming...lavishly evokes the land and lore of Scotland." - Publishers Weekly"Stunning!" - Los Angeles Daily News
"It is a large canvas that Gabaldon paints, filled with strong passions and derring-do. Strong willed and sensual, Claire is an engaging modern heroine plopped down in a simpler, more primitive time.... Great fun ...marvelous and fantastic adventures, romance, sex ...perfect escape reading!" - San Francisco Chronicle
Klappentext
#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER • NOW A STARZ ORIGINAL SERIESUnrivaled storytelling. Unforgettable characters. Rich historical detail. These are the hallmarks of Diana Gabaldon's work. Her New York Times bestselling Outlander novels have earned the praise of critics and captured the hearts of millions of fans. Here is the story that started it all, introducing two remarkable characters, Claire Beauchamp Randall and Jamie Fraser, in a spellbinding novel of passion and history that combines exhilarating adventure with a love story for the ages.
One of the top ten best-loved novels in America, as seen on PBS's The Great American Read!
Scottish Highlands, 1945. Claire Randall, a former British combat nurse, is just back from the war and reunited with her husband on a second honeymoon when she walks through a standing stone in one of the ancient circles that dot the British Isles. Suddenly she is a Sassenach-an "outlander"-in a Scotland torn by war and raiding clans in the year of Our Lord . . . 1743.
Claire is catapulted into the intrigues of a world that threatens her life, and may shatter her heart. Marooned amid danger, passion, and violence, Claire learns her only chance of safety lies in Jamie Fraser, a gallant young Scots warrior. What begins in compulsion becomes urgent need, and Claire finds herself torn between two very different men, in two irreconcilable lives.
Praise for Diana Gabaldon's Outlander novels
"Marvelous and fantastic adventures, romance, sex . . . perfect escape reading."-San Francisco Chronicle, on Outlander
"History comes deliciously alive on the page."-New York Daily News, on Outlander
"Gabaldon is a born storyteller. . . . The pages practically turn themselves."-The Arizona Republic, on Dragonfly in Amber
"Triumphant . . . Her use of historical detail and a truly adult love story confirm Gabaldon as a superior writer."-Publishers Weekly, on Voyager
"Unforgettable characters . . . richly embroidered with historical detail."-The Cincinnati Post, on Drums of Autumn
"A grand adventure written on a canvas that probes the heart, weighs the soul and measures the human spirit across [centuries]."-CNN, on The Fiery Cross
"The large scope of the novel allows Gabaldon to do what she does best, paint in exquisite detail the lives of her characters."-Booklist, on A Breath of Snow and Ashes
"Features all the passion and swashbuckling that fans of this historical fantasy series have come to expect."-People, on Written in My Own Heart's Blood
Auszüge aus dem Buch
Jamie made a fire in a sheltered spot, and sat down next to it. The rain had eased to a faint drizzle that misted the air and spangled my eyelashes with rainbows when I looked at the flames.He sat staring into the fire for a long time. Finally he looked up at me, hands clasped around his knees.
"I said before that I'd not ask ye things ye had no wish to tell me. And I'd not ask ye now; but I must know, for your safety as well as mine." He paused, hesitating.
"Claire, if you've never been honest wi' me, be so now, for I must know the truth. Claire, are ye a witch?"
I gaped at him. "A witch? You - you can really ask that?" I thought he must be joking. He wasn't.
He took me by the shoulders and gripped me hard, staring into my eyes as though willing me to answer him.
"I must ask it, Claire! And you must tell me!"
"And if I were?" I asked through dry lips. "If you had thought I were a witch? Would you still have fought for me?"
"I would have gone to the stake with you!" he said violently. "And to hell beyond, if I must. But may the Lord Jesus have mercy on my soul and on yours, tell me the truth!"
The strain of it all caught up with me. I tore myself out of his grasp and ran across the clearing. Not far, only to the edge of the trees; I could not bear the exposure of the open space. I clutched a tree; put my arms around it and dug my fingers hard into the bark, pressed my face to it and shrieked with hysterical laughter.
Jamie's face, white and shocked, loomed up on the other side of the tree. With the dim realization that what I was doing must sound unnervingly like cackling, I made a terrific effort and stopped. Panting, I stared at him for a moment.
"Yes," I said, backing away, still heaving with gasps of unhinged laughter. "Yes, I am a witch! To you, I must be. I've never had smallpox, but I can walk through a room full of dying men and never catch it. I can nurse the sick and breathe their air and touch their bodies, and the sickness can't touch me. I can't catch cholera, either, or lockjaw, or the morbid sore throat. And you must think it's an enchantment, because you've never heard of vaccine, and there's no other way you can explain it."
"The things I know - " I stopped backing away and stood still, breathing heavily, trying to control myself. "I know about Jonathan Randall because I was told about him. I know when he was born and when he'll die, I know about what he's done and what he'll do, I know about Sandringham because ... because Frank told me. He knew about Randall because he ... he ... oh, God!" I felt as though I might be sick, and closed my eyes to shut out the spinning stars overhead.
"And Colum ... he thinks I'm a witch, because I know Hamish isn't his own son. I know ... he can't sire children. But he thought I knew who Hamish's father is ... I thought maybe it was you, but then I knew it couldn't be, and..." I was talking faster and faster, trying to keep the vertigo at bay with the sound of my own voice.
"Everything I've ever told you about myself was true," I said, nodding madly as though to reassure myself. "Everything. I haven't any people, I haven't any history, because I haven't happened yet.
"Do you know when I was born?" I asked, looking up. I knew my hair was wild and my eyes staring, and I didn't care. "On the twentieth of October, in the Year of Our Lord nineteen hundred and eighteen. Do you hear me?" I demanded, for he was blinking at me unmoving, as though paying no attention to a word I said. "I said nineteen eighteen! Nearly two hundred years from now! Do you hear?"
I was shouting now, and he nodded slowly.
"I hear," he said softly.
"Yes, you hear!" I blazed. "And you think I'm raving mad. Don't you? Admit it! That's what you think. You have to think so, there isn't any