A Breath of Snow and Ashes

Book six. My self-imposed "vacation" from this series lasted approximately three days -- long enough for me to read my book club's selected book and not a minute more. A Breath of Snow and Ashes is, once again, a very entertaining chapter in the adventures of Jamie and Claire, though this sixth installment has the worst title yet and my particular version has an even worse silver cover. Fans of the series: consider this to be the book where you say "finally!" a lot. We're getting into the American Revolution (and while this book doesn't carry us through all the years of war, we at least get past the Declaration of Independence) and there's a lot of other plotlines where we reach conclusions (or at least stop guessing). After biding his time to keep his family safe from the agents of the Crown, Jamie now has to come clean to declare his support for liberty and the rebels. Not only does this mean physical danger from those who swear allegiance to the King, but it means placing himself and his family on the opposite side of a conflict from many of their friends and relatives.

There are a lot of small storylines at work here to the point where you'd be forgiven for forgetting a few, only remembering when they come to resolution towards the end. Jamie's juggling connections to two different sides of the colonist rebellion and now when he plans to side outright with the rebels, it may take some convincing of both sides to let them know he's in earnest, particularly when his sense of right and wrong might pit him against those with whom he's politically aligned. Claire has finally found a young apprentice (Malva Christie) who appears interested in learning what Claire has to teach in terms of medicine, but Mr. Christie is vehemently opposed to his daughter partaking in such work, particularly when Claire begins experimenting with ether as a means of rendering patients unconscious for more painful procedures. Perhaps more so than in any other book, Claire's life is threatened and she will have many of her own scars (both physical and emotional) before this book is through. Roger Mac assumes a bigger role in helping settle the Protestant tenants of Frasers Ridge and has decided that he should become a minister; while Brianna is thoroughly supportive of his calling, this course of action is a bit complicated for several reasons. Their own relationship is a bit strained as they try to conceive a second child and past villains will resurface to threaten their family once more... though their hardest decision yet will close this book and surely have a role in the next. It's rough times for poor Fergus as Marsali bears a dwarf child and Fergus struggles with his growing depression about being unable to provide for his family. Ian Murray is dealing with his own demons and we finally learn what happened to him when he stayed with the Indians. Aunt Jocasta and Duncan Innes are facing some relationship difficulties, too, but perhaps easier to focus on is the fact that first their slave Phaedre goes missing and then the secret gold kept in Hector Cameron's tomb is stolen. Young Lizzie Wemyss has quite an unprecedented role in this book, with all kinds of romantic turmoil, and she shows rare courage in selecting a life that isn't quite kosher for the time. In fact, many characters that have lingered in the background for a bit are brought into the limelight, including the Browns from Brownsville, the Beardsley twins, Mr. and Mrs. Bug, the McGillivrays, and the Christies. Indeed, if the book has a unifying theme, it's the steady march towards the inevitable war, but life goes on. Lots of time is spent in pursuit of missing persons and repeatedly, we're reminded that it sucked to be a woman during this time period.

On that note, this is a small rant about an issue in the novel. It's not intended as a criticism of the whole novel, just something that I thought a lot about in between reading binges. There seems to be a lot of sex happening in this novel, and only a little of it is the kind between two consenting, unrelated adults without any exchange of money or goods. It's particularly the bad kind as far as women are really the ones to deal with the consequences. There's rape, whores, several cases of the pox, threesomes, Indian women offered as gifts in pairs, incest, both true and false accusations of married men sleeping around, situations involving white slave owners and black slaves, and women who might turn to other women for "comfort" in jail (it's not just the fellas in Ardsmuir, evidently). It almost made me miss the days when it was just every homosexual man lusting after Jamie. Sex certainly complicates life, but it seemed like it turned up some very complicated situations in this particular novel, often involving babies and questions of parentage. I could have made do with a little less of that, if only because it was a bit tiresome. And on a more serious note, part of me is trying to reconcile the frequent use of rape as a dramatic device in this series. Certainly, it was a more common danger back in this time period, and I'm certain that this is simply what Gabaldon is emphasizing with all of this, but does it seem perhaps too frequent? At this point, three our of our four main characters in this series have been violated (and that doesn't count Fergus, who was raised in a brothel and occasionally used as a child whore). Perhaps our particular characters are putting themselves in danger more than the usual person of the time period, but even so. Between the rapes and what desperate events result from unmarried pregnant women, it makes everything seem so bleak for those of the feminine gender. Of course, events like rape aren't handled lightly. It's not trivial at all, particularly in this this book where our main character (and, indeed, our intermittent narrator of the series) is violently beaten and raped. It's arguably the most important and horrid event of the book in terms of shaping actions and opinions about people. A group of rough men (including several personages who we've met that specifically dislike Jamie and Claire) come upon Claire and Marsali. While their stated purpose is to locate and steal Jamie's whiskey casks, they burn his distillery, render Marsali unconscious, and kidnap Claire with the idea that she can show them where his secret stash is hidden. Of course, this gets complicated when she can't really tell them where it is and they are uncertain if it's best to kill her or let her go. Ultimately, Claire ends up violently beaten and raped before Jamie descends with several men of the Ridge to recover her. In vengeance, Jamie has his men kill everyone they can find and only one previously injured man is left alive so Jamie might question him, one of the Brown brothers of Brownsville, but even he ends up dead. (Of course, it turns out that at least one other survived, too -- Donner, a man that reveals to Claire that he's a fellow time-traveler, one of the Indians who intended to go into the past and somehow change the fate of their ancestors, but now he's simply desperate to return home.) Claire refuses to let the violence done to her overpower who she is, but at several points of distress in the novel, she experiences strong flashbacks that cause her to blindly lash out or nearly lose consciousness in panic.

The rape question doesn't end there, though, because there's still Stephen Bonnet lurking around. Those who are ready for answers to the questions of "who is Jemmy's biological father?" and "when can we kill Bonnet already?" will be pleased with this novel, as we see resolutions to both of them. The first is answered inadvertently by a case of lice that requires Jem's head to be shaved and a mole is uncovered... a mole that Roger blithely dismisses as harmless, noting that he has the same kind in the same spot as Jem. Claire confirms that the mole is hereditary and I must say, I was a little disappointed with the lack of fanfare surrounding this assurance that Jem is Roger's biological child. It's not so passed over that you might miss it, but I was expecting a little more fuss. As for the Bonnet issue, we see his return and ultimate demise in this book, too. Gabaldon is a bit too kind to the fellow in my opinion, making it so Brianna can't abide to let him die in a way he most fears, but at least it's Brianna's hand behind his death at the end.

Moving on from terrible men to excellent ones, for those who read these books to sigh over Jamie, I think you'll be particularly pleased with this novel. (It's at this point that I'm wondering how I can slip into feminist questioner mode for the rape issue and then still want to swoon over Jamie.) Older and wiser, he still has the passion of his youth about him at times, yet still manages to temper that with his laird instincts as he assumes care of everyone around him. One can adore him for being a romantic precisely because he is so capable in most other areas of life and his love is so purely focused on Claire. (I think this book features one of the loveliest things Jamie has ever said, roughly paraphrased: if the last words on my lips are not I love you, it's only because I didn't have the time to say it.) My question is this. Is it pure wishful thinking that we completely accept Jamie and Claire as a believable characters, particularly Jamie? Capable of being both savage and tender? Even his faults are endearing. Perhaps. Mass slaughter might not be high on one's list of desired characteristics in a mate these days, but in the scene where he leads the fight to get Claire back from her kidnappers and he unblinkingly decides to kill them all, I had to acknowledge some deep-seeded gender roles that made a man who could unhesitatingly kill for the woman he loves... well, it's terribly attractive. At least the impulse is not gender specific -- wanting to dispose of those who would threaten what you hold dear, I feel that's pretty neutral, it's just that men historically play that role a bit more often.

Ultimately, this book will appeal to fans of the series and really that's all it's going for, right? No one's picking this book up who hasn't read the previous ones, so all Gabaldon is trying to do is maintain the current readership. Nothing is truly new and amazing, but she keeps up her regular level of entertaining story. The historical detail is still impressive (though because we've spent so much time waiting for the Revolution, it's not as fresh and interesting as its been in the previous books) and the relationships are still compelling. Can she keep up such momentum through more novels? Frankly, I'm impressed that things haven't gone downhill yet, so I have hope that she can continue on.