The Scottish Prisoner (66 page)

“making love”
—This term, like some other period phrases, exists in modern speech, but has changed its meaning. It was not a synonym for “engaging in sexual relations,” but was strictly a male activity and meant any sort of amorous wooing behavior, including the writing or reading of romantic poetry to a young woman, giving her flowers, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, or going so far as kissing, cupping (breasts, we assume), toying (pretty open-ended), etc.—but certainly not including sexual intercourse.

“gagging”
(e.g., “What had the gagging wee bitch been saying?”)—This is a Scots word (not Gaelic), meaning “hoaxing,” from which we might deduce an etymology that led to the present-day “gag,” meaning a joke of some sort.

“imbranglement”
—period colloquialism; an onomatopoetic word that means just what it sounds like: complicated and involuntary entanglement, whether physical, legal, or emotional.

whisky vs. whiskey
—Scotch whisky is spelled without an “e” and Irish whiskey is spelled with an “e.” Consequently, I’ve observed this geographical peculiarity, depending on the location where the substance is produced and/or being ingested.

pixilated
—nowadays, you occasionally see this term (spelled as “pixelated”) used to mean “rendered digitally, in pixels,” or “of unusably low-resolution,” in reference to a photographic image. It was used as a reference to stop-frame photographic technique even before the development of digital photography, and spelled as “pixilated” it was used as a synonym for drunkenness from the mid-nineteenth century. The original meaning, though, was very probably a literal reference to being “away with the pixies (fairies)”—i.e., delusional, and Jamie uses the word in this fashion.

Humpty-Dumpty
—The first known
published
version of this nursery rhyme is from 1803, but there’s considerable evidence for the name and general concept—as well as, perhaps, earlier versions of the rhyme—existing prior to this. “Humpty dumpty” is a documented slang term from the eighteenth century, used to refer to a short, clumsy person, and while Tom Byrd doesn’t use the name, he’s obviously familiar with the concept.

Plan B
—I had some concern from one editor and one beta-reader as to whether “Plan B” sounded anachronistic. I didn’t think so, and explained my reasoning thus:

To which the editor luckily replied:

Scots/Scottish/Scotch
—As I’ve observed in the notes to other books, the word “Scotch,” as used to refer to natives of Scotland, dropped out of favor in the mid-twentieth century, when the SNP started gaining power. Prior to that point in history, though, it was commonly used by both Scots and non-Scots—certainly by English people. I don’t hold with foisting anachronistic attitudes of political correctness onto historical persons, so have retained the common period usage.

“Yellow-johns”
and
“swarthy-johns”
were both common Irish insults of the period used in reference to the English, God knows why (cf.
Ireland and the Jacobite Cause, 1685–1766: A Fatal Attachment
, by Éamonn Ó Ciardha).

The Celtic tongue spoken in Ireland and Scotland was essentially the same language—called “Erse”—until about 1600, at which point local variations became more pronounced, followed by a big spelling shift that made the Gaelic of the Highlands (
Gàidhlig
) distinct from the Irish Gaelic (
Gaeilge
). The two languages still have much in common (rather like the relation between Spanish and Italian), but would have been recognizably different even in 1760.

Now, with reference to my own novels, I did know that Gaelic was the native tongue of the Scottish Highlands, when I began writing
Outlander
. Finding someone in Phoenix, Arizona (in 1988), who
spoke
Gaelic was something else. I finally found a bookseller (Steinhof’s Foreign Books, in Boston) who could provide me with an English/Gaelic dictionary, and that’s what I used as a source when writing
Outlander
.

When the book was sold and the publisher gave me a three-book contract, I said to my husband, “I think I really must
see
the place,” and we went to Scotland. Here I found a much bigger and more sophisticated Gaelic/English dictionary, and that’s what I used while writing
Dragonfly in Amber
.

And then I met Iain. I got a wonderful letter from Iain MacKinnon Taylor, who said all kinds of delightful things regarding my books, and then said, “There is just this one small thing, which I hesitate to mention. I was born on the Isle of Harris and am a native Gaelic-speaker—and I think you must be getting your Gaelic from a dictionary.” He then generously volunteered his time and talent to provide translations for the Gaelic in subsequent books, and the Gaelic in
Voyager, Drums of Autumn, The Fiery Cross, The Outlandish Companion
, and
A Breath of Snow and Ashes
is due to Iain’s efforts, and those of his twin brother Hamish and other members of his family still residing on Harris.

At this point, Iain was no longer able to continue doing the translations, but I was extremely fortunate in that a friend, Catherine MacGregor, was not only a student of Gaelic herself but was also a friend of Catherine-Ann MacPhee, world-famous Gaelic singer, and a native
speaker from Barra. The two Cathys very generously did the Gaelic for
The Exile
and
An Echo in the Bone
.

And then I rashly wrote a book that not only involved Scottish Gaelic
and
Irish, but actually employed the language as a plot element. Fortunately, Cathy and Cathy-Ann were more than equal to the challenge and dragooned their friend Kevin Dooley, musician, author, and fluent Irish speaker, to provide those bits as well.

One thing about Gaelic is that it doesn’t look
anything
like it sounds—and so my ever-helpful Gaelic translators kindly offered to make a recording of themselves reading the bits of Gaelic dialogue in the book aloud, for those curious as to what it really sounds like. You can find this recording (and a phonetic pronunciation guide) on my website at
www.DianaGabaldon.com
, or on my Facebook page at
www.facebook.com/AuthorDianaGabaldon
.

Here, I’ve just listed brief common expressions that aren’t explicitly translated in context.

To Jennifer Hershey and Bill Massey, my editors, who have so gracefully and skillfully handled the business of editing a book simultaneously from two different countries, companies, and points of view …

To the delightful copy editor Kathy Lord, who knows how many esses there are in “nonplussed,” and who repeatedly saves my bacon by knowing how old everybody is and how far it is from Point A to Point B, geography and chronology not being my strong points at all, at all …

Jessica Waters, editorial assistant, adept at juggling several huge wads of manuscript, requests for interviews, and miscellaneous snippets of this and that simultaneously …

Virginia Norey (aka “the Book Goddess”), who designed the elegant volume you hold …

Vincent La Scala, Maggie Hart, and the many, many hardworking and endlessly tolerant people in the production department at Random House …

Catherine-Ann MacPhee, that glowing daughter of Barra, actress, TV presenter, traditional singer, teacher, and recording artist—whose wonderful Gaelic recordings can be found at
www.Greentrax.com
—and who provided the marvelously nuanced translations of Scottish Gaelic for this book …

Kevin Dooley, fluent speaker of Irish, musician, storyteller, and author (see
www.kevindooleyauthor.blogspot.com
), for his lovely and thoughtful translations of the Irish Gaelic. Any loss of
fadas
(the little accent marks scattered over written Irish like ground black pepper) is the fault either of me or the unavoidable friction involved in typesetting, and we apologize if we inadvertently lost any, either way …

Catherine MacGregor (aka “Amazingly Perceptive and Generous Reader”), both for assistance in procuring and recording the Gaelic translations, helpful commentary on the manuscript, and for Eyeball-Numbing Nitpickery …

Barbara Schnell and Sarah Meral, for the German bits …

Laura Bailey, for helpful information on gaiters and other items of eighteenth-century costume …

Allene Edwards, for Advanced Typo-spotting and Nitpickery …

Claudia Howard, Recorded Books producer, for her open-mindedness and courtesy while going about the tricky business of getting the audiobook of
The Scottish Prisoner
on sale simultaneously with the print version …

Malcolm Edwards and Orion Publishing, for their faith in and stout support of this book …

My husband, Doug Watkins, for helpful information on horses, mules, harness, and small boys …

Karen Henry, Czarina of Traffic and Aedile Curule of the Diana Gabaldon folder (in the Compuserve Books and Writers Forum), without whom I would have a lot more distraction and fewer words on paper, both for herding the bumblebees and for her detailed and helpful manuscript comments …

Susan Butler, for invaluable logistical assistance, household and dog management, and encyclopedic knowledge on how to ship things most expeditiously from Point A to Point B …

Jeremy Tolbert, Nikki Rowe, Michelle Moore, Loretta McKibben, and Janice Millford, for Web-based constructions and management … I can’t clone myself, but they’re the next best thing …

Lara, Suellen, Jari Backman, Wayne Sowry, and the dozens of other lovely people who’ve given me useful details and suggestions, or have remembered things for me that I had forgotten, but needed …

Vicki Pack and The Society for the Appreciation of the English Awesomesauce (Lord John’s fan club), for moral support and a great T-shirt …

Elenna Loughlin, for the lovely author photo (taken in the eighteenth-century walled garden at Culloden House, near Inverness) …

Judy Lowstuter, Judie Rousselle, and the Ladies of Lallybroch, for the bench in the eighteenth-century walled garden at Culloden House, kindly dedicated to me and my books …

Allan Scott-Douglas, Ewen Dougan, and Louise Lewis for various Scots idioms, and for the correct spelling of “tattie” …

Betsy (“Betty”) Mitchell, Bedelia, Eldon Garlock, Karen Henry (“Keren-happuch”), and Guero the mule (aka “Whitey”)—for the use of their names, though I hasten to add that with the exception of Guero, none of the above has anything in common with the characters bearing those names …