The Outlander is a wild mashup of fantasy, survival, masculinity, and spiritual reckoning. It follows Raylan, a disillusioned, recently divorced man who literally walks away from modern society and into a portal that dumps him into a savage new world. Think Stargate meets Mad Max with a dash of Conan the Barbarian. There, he begins a testosterone-charged journey of physical empowerment, personal redemption, and building a life on his own terms—complete with monsters, magic gems, and the promise of a harem, all while trying to honor his faith and sense of self.

This book came out swinging hard. The opening chapter had me raising my eyebrows more than once. Raylan’s monologue about the “System” (aka modern life, courts, child support, and societal expectations) is equal parts bitter rant and heartfelt vulnerability. It’s raw. The guy is angry, but the emotion behind it feels real. There’s this line where he says, “Slaves only have masters, and then there are those like me, who growl in the darkness but bear the weight of the chain by day”—and it hit hard. Whether or not you agree with his worldview, Zaren definitely makes you feel where Raylan is coming from. I didn’t expect to feel empathy for a character who talks like a grizzled forum poster, but I did.

Then the book jumps into another gear. Once Raylan enters this other world, things go full-on pulp fantasy. He’s suddenly stronger, more capable, and swinging axes at mutant apes. This part was ridiculously entertaining. He watches these nightmare apes take down a massive cow beast in a brutal scene. It didn’t feel like gore for gore’s sake. It was a brutal world, and Raylan reacts like someone who wants to clean it up, not just survive. That internal code keeps the character from becoming just another antihero caricature.

The writing is unfiltered. Sometimes it meanders, sometimes it slaps you with five ideas in one sentence. But there’s something refreshing about a book that isn’t afraid to ditch polish and just be honest. Zaren writes like someone who has a lot to say and doesn’t care if he ruffles feathers. That’s a double-edged sword—it can come off preachy or even uncomfortable in places (especially with gender themes and power dynamics), but it’s never boring. And when Raylan is just quietly mining crystals or sharing a moment with the wolves, it gets unexpectedly tender. You don’t expect emotional depth in a book that calls itself “A Harem Story for Men,” but it’s there in flashes.

The Outlander isn’t for everyone, and that’s kind of the point. It’s for readers who like old-school pulp fantasy mixed with raw, unfiltered masculinity and a splash of spiritual introspection. It reads like someone’s soul spilled out into fantasy form. If you’re open to something weird, rough, passionate, and often deeply personal—even if you don’t agree with everything—it’s worth the ride.

Pages: 488 | ASIN: B0DWKLBVQQ