{"product_id":"outlander-isbn-9780440212560","title":"Outlander","description":"\u003cb\u003e\u003cb\u003e#1 \u003ci\u003eNEW YORK TIMES\u003c\/i\u003e BESTSELLER • The first book in Diana Gabaldon’s acclaimed Outlander saga, the basis for the Starz original series—season 8 coming in March 2026!\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eOne of the top ten best-loved novels in America, as seen on PBS’s \u003ci\u003eThe Great American Read\u003c\/i\u003e!\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eUnrivaled storytelling. Unforgettable characters. Rich historical detail. These are the hallmarks of Diana Gabaldon’s work. Her \u003ci\u003eNew York Times\u003c\/i\u003e 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. \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eScottish 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eClaire 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.\u003cb\u003ePraise for Diana Gabaldon’s Outlander novels\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Marvelous and fantastic adventures, romance, sex . . . perfect escape reading.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eSan Francisco Chronicle\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e,\u003c\/i\u003e on \u003ci\u003eOutlander\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “History comes deliciously alive on the page.”\u003cb\u003e—New York \u003ci\u003eDaily News\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e, \u003c\/i\u003eon\u003ci\u003e Outlander\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “Gabaldon is a born storyteller. . . . The pages practically turn themselves.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Arizona Republic\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e, \u003c\/i\u003eon\u003ci\u003e Dragonfly in Amber\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Triumphant . . . Her use of historical detail and a truly adult love story confirm Gabaldon as a superior writer.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePublishers Weekly\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e, \u003c\/i\u003eon \u003ci\u003eVoyager\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Unforgettable characters . . . richly embroidered with historical detail.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Cincinnati Post\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e, \u003c\/i\u003eon \u003ci\u003eDrums of Autumn\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “A grand adventure written on a canvas that probes the heart, weighs the soul and measures the human spirit across [centuries].”\u003cb\u003e—CNN\u003c\/b\u003e, on \u003ci\u003eThe Fiery Cross\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “The large scope of the novel allows Gabaldon to do what she does best, paint in exquisite detail the lives of her characters.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBooklist\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e,\u003c\/i\u003e on \u003ci\u003eA Breath of Snow and Ashes\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003ci\u003e \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Features all the passion and swashbuckling that fans of this historical fantasy series have come to expect.”\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003ePeople\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003ci\u003e, \u003c\/i\u003eon\u003ci\u003e Written in My Own Heart’s Blood\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cb\u003eDiana Gabaldon\u003c\/b\u003e is the #1 \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of the wildly popular Outlander novels—\u003ci\u003eOutlander, Dragonfly in Amber, Voy­ager, Drums of Autumn, The Fiery Cross, A Breath of Snow and Ashes \u003c\/i\u003e(for which she won a Quill Award and the Corine International Book Prize), \u003ci\u003eAn Echo in the Bone, Written in My Own Heart’s Blood\u003c\/i\u003e, and \u003ci\u003eGo Tell the Bees That I Am Gone\u003c\/i\u003e—as well as the related Lord John Grey books, \u003ci\u003eLord John and the Private Matter, Lord John and the Brotherhood of the Blade, Lord John and the Hand of Devils, \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eThe Scottish Prisoner; \u003c\/i\u003ea collection of novellas, \u003ci\u003eSeven Stones to Stand or Fall; \u003c\/i\u003ethree works of nonfiction, \u003ci\u003e“I Give You My Body . . .” \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eThe Outlandish Com­panion, Volumes 1 \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003e2; \u003c\/i\u003ethe Outlander graphic novel \u003ci\u003eThe Exile; \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eThe Official Outlander Coloring Book\u003c\/i\u003e. She lives in Scottsdale, Arizona, with her husband.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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe sat staring into the fire for a long time. Finally he looked up at me, hands clasped around his knees.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Claire, if you've never been honest wi' me, be so now, for I must know the truth. Claire, are ye a witch?\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI gaped at him. \"A witch? You—you can really ask that?\" I thought he must be joking. He wasn't.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe took me by the shoulders and gripped me hard, staring into my eyes as though willing me to answer him.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I \u003ci\u003emust\u003c\/i\u003e ask it, Claire! And you must tell me!\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"And if I were?\" I asked through dry lips. \"If you had thought I were a witch? Would you still have fought for me?\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"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!\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe 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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eJamie'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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"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.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"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.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"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?\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI was shouting now, and he nodded slowly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I hear,\" he said softly.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"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 other way you can explain me to yourself. You \u003ci\u003ecan't\u003c\/i\u003e believe me, you can't dare to. Oh, Jamie...\" I felt my face start to crumple. All this time spent hiding the truth, realizing that I could never tell anyone, and now I realized that I could tell Jamie, my beloved husband, the man I trusted beyond all others, and he wouldn't—he \u003ci\u003ecouldn't\u003c\/i\u003e believe me either.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"It was the rocks—the fairy hill. The standing stones. Merlin's stones. That's where I came through.\" I was gasping, half-sobbing, becoming less coherent by the second. \"Once upon a time, but it's really two hundred years. It's always two hundred years, in the stories. ... But in the stories, the people always get back. I couldn't get back.\" I turned away, staggering, grasping for support. I sank down on a rock, shoulders slumped, and put my head in my hands. There was a long silence in the wood. It went on long enough for the small night birds to recover their courage and start their noises once again, calling to each other with a thin, high \u003ci\u003ezeek!\u003c\/i\u003e as they hawked for the last insects of the summer.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI looked up at last, thinking that perhaps he had simply risen and left me, overcome by my revelations. He was still there, though, still sitting, hands braced on his knees, head bowed as though in thought.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eThe hairs on his arms shone stiff as copper wires in the firelight, though, and I realized that they stood erect, like the bristles on a dog. He was afraid of me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Jamie,\" I said, feeling my heart break with absolute loneliness. \"Oh, Jamie.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI sat down and curled myself into a ball, trying to roll myself around the core of my pain. Nothing mattered any longer, and I sobbed my heart out.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHis hands on my shoulders raised me, enough to see his face. Through the haze of tears, I saw the look he wore in battle, of struggle that had passed the point of strain and become calm certainty.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"I believe you,\" he said firmly. \"I dinna understand it a bit—not yet—but I believe you. Claire, I believe you! Listen to me! There's the truth between us, you and I, and whatever ye tell me, I shall believe it.\" He gave me a gentle shake.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"It doesna matter what it is. You've told me. That's enough for now. Be still, \u003ci\u003emo duinne.\u003c\/i\u003e Lay your head and rest. You'll tell me the rest of it later. And I'll believe you.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI was still sobbing, unable to grasp what he was telling me. I struggled, trying to pull away, but he gathered me up and held me tightly against himself, pushing my head into the folds of his plaid, and repeating over and over again, \"I believe you.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eAt last, from sheer exhaustion, I grew calm enough to look up and say, \"But you \u003ci\u003ecan't\u003c\/i\u003e believe me.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe smiled down at me. His mouth trembled slightly, but he smiled.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Ye'll no tell \u003ci\u003eme\u003c\/i\u003e what I canna do, Sassenach.\" He paused a moment. ... A long time later, he spoke.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"All right. Tell me now.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI told him. Told him everything, haltingly but coherently. I felt numb from exhaustion, but content, like a rabbit that has outrun a fox, and found temporary shelter under a log. It isn't sanctuary, but at least it is respite. And I told him about Frank.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Frank,\" he said softly. \"Then he isna dead, after all.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"He isn't \u003ci\u003eborn\u003c\/i\u003e.\" I felt another small wave of hysteria break against my ribs, but managed to keep myself under control. \"Neither am I.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe stroked and patted me back into silence, making his small murmuring Gaelic sounds.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"When I took ye from Randall at Fort William,\" he said suddenly, \"you were trying to get back. Back to the stones. And ... Frank. That's why ye left the grove.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Yes.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"And I beat you for it.\" His voice was soft with regret.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"You couldn't know. I couldn't tell you.\" I was beginning to feel very drowsy indeed.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"No, I dinna suppose ye could.\" He pulled the plaid closer around me, tucking it gently around my shoulders. \"Do ye sleep now, \u003ci\u003emo duinne\u003c\/i\u003e. No one shall harm ye; I'm here.\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eI burrowed into the warm curve of his shoulder, letting my tired mind fall through the layers of oblivion. I forced myself to the surface long enough to ask, \"Do you really believe me, Jamie?\" \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eHe sighed, and smiled ruefully down at me.\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\"Aye, I believe ye, Sassenach. But it would ha' been a good deal easier if you'd only been a witch.\"#1 New York Times bestselling author Now a Starz original series","brand":"Dell","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":44866404417765,"sku":"NP9780440212560","price":9.99,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780440212560.jpg?v=1767734377","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/outlander-isbn-9780440212560","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}