Well that was disappointing. Considering I’ve given each of the other books in the Outlander series five stars out of five, I expected much more out of this one.
If I were to give this novel a subtitle, it would be “The Novel in which Truly Nothing Happens.” After the climax of An Echo in the Bone I went into this book hoping for a spectacular continuation. What I got was a long, drawn out story that lasted the entirety of the novel and ended exactly as I knew it would. There were so many chapters between the tales of Bri and Roger, and Clair and Jamie, that around the middle of the book I forgot one of the story lines existed. Completely lacking a plot, the only notable thing in this poor excuse for a novel is that Jamie, at one point, acts completely out of character.
I’m afraid Miss Gabaldon should have ended the series with book seven. If I wanted a history lesson, which is basically what Written in My Own Heart’s Blood amounts to, I’d have read a textbook.
Will I read the next book? Probably. I may borrow it from the library or wait for the paperback to come out instead of rushing to pre-order the hardcover. But if the next one doesn’t impress me, I’m out.