Your Guide to All the ‘Outlander' Books in Order and ‘Blood of My Blood'
It's not as simple as just going through the series of books as they were released, because Gabaldon has written a ton of novellas, short stories, and a whole spin-off series about a supporting character. How you choose to go about integrating all of the books, if you do choose to do so, is entirely up to you. I've included release dates for every work, so you could just go through them chronologically by when they came out. I almost always prefer reading things in release order, rather than "timeline order" (some of the novellas and spin-offs are prequels) when there's a choice. But, at least when it comes to the novellas, you can skip around!
So far, more or less, each book corresponds to a season of the Starz series. Season 1 is Outlander, season 2 is Dragonfly in Amber, and so on. Season 7, part 2 is airing right now, and one of the last episodes of this season is named "Written in My Heart's Own Blood," which implies that we might start to get season 8 plots.
If you've seen the series and want to read the books but want to skip ahead for whatever reason—maybe you don't want to deal with Randall, or can't wait to get to Brianna and Roger—it should be pretty easy to figure out where to jump in. Maybe you want to skip right to the books that haven't been adapted yet. That's okay, too!
Do you feel like there's not enough Lord John, the British sweetie who rolls in once a season and gets up to stuff while making heart eyes at Jamie? I have great news for you. There are many books and novellas about the fan-favorite character AND they're mysteries AND Jamie is in more than one of them. How fun is that?!
If you want more miscellaneous reading, this collection includes both Lord John and Outlander stories. It also has a story about Jamie and Ian Murray's time in France.
Finally, there is an Outlander crossover story called "Past Prologue" in the short story collection Match Up. In it, characters from Outlander interact with characters from the Cotton Malone novels by Steve Berry, who co-wrote the story with Gabaldon. It's not connected to Outlander, but there's also a story co-written by True Blood author Charlaine Harris in this collection, FYI.
This is a tricky one, because even though the new prequel series is based on characters that are spoken about in the books (Jamie's parents, Claire's parents), the events in the show are not based on a book, so to speak. Like, you can't go read a book that mirrors the episode and season structure of Blood of My Blood. So while we, as viewers and readers, know what happened to these characters eventually, their stories get a lot more detail in this series that we haven't heard or read about before.
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Forbes
2 hours ago
- Forbes
Harriet Slater And Jamie Roy On ‘Outlander: Blood Of My Blood'
Outlander's prequel series Outlander: Blood of my Blood is about to become your new period drama obsession, and the first two episodes are now streaming on Starz. This new series takes us on an epic and romantic journey where we meet Jamie's parents in 1714, Scotland, Ellen and Bria, as well as Henry and Julia, Claire's parents, in 1917, England. The two couples will have to face many obstacles in order to be together, just like Jamie and Claire eventually will, some 30 years later. From the first few minutes of the show, Blood of my Blood proves to be an outstanding historical drama, with an attention to details and a knowledge of the lore that can only appeal to period drama aficionados. As soon as the opening credits hit the screen -and we have composer Bear McCreary to thank for it- Blood of my Blood soars to become one of the best historical dramas of these last few years. This prequel has everything it needs, to be an excellent successor to Outlander, so much so that season 2 is already in production. From the incredible sets to the costumes and a perfect casting, Blood of my Blood manages to be its own story, while capturing the magic and the essence of the original series. I spoke with the stars of the show, Harriet Slater (Ellen MacKenzie) and Jamie Roy (Brian Fraser), and I asked them how they view Jamie's character now that they have embodied his parents, and if they could see some of their own portrayal while watching Sam Heughan's performance in Outlander. Roy said, 'It's an interesting one, in terms of mannerisms, I think, I mean I've been told many times that Sam and I are similar men in terms of personalities, the way we look and things, and I got to hang out with him quite a bunch. When we're together, it's funny because I can feel the similarity. So when I saw it on the screen, I was just saying that I re-watched season 1 of Outlander maybe three months ago, just for fun because I had already seen it ages ago, but I just wanted to see season 1 of Outlander compared to season 1 of ours, you know. And watching it, there a lot of similarities between Jamie and Brian but they come organically honestly, it wasn't intentional, the gestures and things like that. So hats off to casting because they really knew what they were doing.' He added: 'Talking about season 1 again, the wedding episode, Jamie tells a story about his parents and things like that, he's really soft-spoken and very romantic and I was like 'That's my boy!'' In the original series, Jamie tells Claire about his parents when she visits his home, Lallybroch. He gives a few details about his father, such as the kind of books he would be reading, that he would put his boots by the fireplace, or even that he would keep a dagger under his bed. I asked Roy if the way Jamie talks about his parents influenced his portrayal of Brian. He said, 'If I'm honest, not quite yet, because when Jamie is talking about his parents like that, we're not quite there. We're starting this journey right at the start of Brian and Ellen's relationship, so we have so much more story to tell. And it's one of these things where you don't know what you don't know, as a character. So I'm excited to see how that sort of thing plays out, to the point where I'm keeping a dagger under the bed, and the books, and what will be my own house eventually.' If we can clearly see that Jamie got his kindness from Brian, his tenacity and fierceness come from his mother, Ellen MacKenzie, brilliantly portrayed by Slater. 'Brian has a really soft side, which only really comes out of Ellen when she's with Brian,' Slater told me. Ellen is torn between many responsibilities since the death of her father, Red Jacob Mackenzie, portrayed by Scottish legend, Peter Mullan. Ellen was his father's favorite child and would have been his successor, if she had been a man. Since Ellen can't be Laird of Clan MacKenzie, the clan will have to choose between Ellen's brothers, Colum and Dougal MacKenzie, respectively portrayed by Séamus McLean Ross and Sam Retford. This new show explains the past of many characters we know from Outlander, from Dougal to Colum and Murtagh, and it gives so much context to the history and wars between the different clans. I asked the two actors if they had a new perspective on a character thanks to the prequel. Slater said, 'Mine is Colum, he's such a complicated character, and Ellen's relationship with Colum is so complex, they were best friends and then things happen… without giving anything away, their relationship changes quite drastically. But me, as Harriet, I understand where they're both coming from, it's a really tricky situation, and they both are torn between the love they have for each other and doing what they both think is right for the sake of the clan that Colum has to think about, but Ellen too. And Ellen's torn because her heart belongs to Brian, and then that's a really tough situation.' Roy added: 'For me it's Murtagh. Seeing a younger version of Murtagh, I think it could be so different from what fans know in Outlander. And then we see him, this young lad who doesn't have any, you know, tortured soul. He's very young and happy and easy-going. I think people are really going to enjoy seeing what made him a little hard. He's played by Rory Alexander, he's fantastic, and with Brian they're obviously best pals, they hang out quite a lot so, I'm excited to see this change at first hand, which is very fun.' If Blood of my Blood looks as gorgeous as it does on our screen, it's because it was shot on location in Scotland, which acts as a character in itself, as it gives the mood and sets the tone and atmosphere to an already gripping story, so I asked Slater and Roy which location had the biggest impact on their performance this season. Roy said, 'For me, it was the first time being on a set that big. Actually in episode 1, when Brian and Murtagh appear at a gathering, it was my first time seeing so many supporting artists, incredible costumes all around, horses, cooking stalls… The attention to detail was so incredible, you honestly think all these guys had been pulled out of the stones you know, and you had been transported to this time. I remember thinking 'Wow! I really don't have to use my imagination much here, you're just surrounded by it.' It was really quite special.' Slater said, 'That's a really good question. Me and Séamus had a similar moment, I think it was week 3 and it was our first day outside. We'd been in the studios for the first 2 weeks, filming inside Leoch, which is again an incredible set. But getting outside, there was something so special about that. I remember the weather, it wasn't great, it was so cold, it was windy and it was raining. It was February in Scotland, so brutal.' She added: 'But we were into the elements and able to use it. Like Jamie was saying, there were 150 supporting artists, the set was so immersive, the smells and the sights and the sounds, it really felt like we were there, like Jamie said, it made the job 10 times easier. Once you couldn't see the film crew, it was like I could really be in 1714, Scotland.' The first two episodes of Outlander: Blood of my Blood are now streaming on Starz.
Atlantic
6 hours ago
- Atlantic
The Judgments of Muriel Spark
The novelist Muriel Spark died almost 20 years ago, but she still regularly appears on lists of top comic novelists to read on this subject or that. Crave more White Lotus– level skewering of the ridiculous rich? Try Memento Mori, The New York Times suggests. An acerbic take on boring dinner parties? Symposium. Interested in 'the fun and funny aspects of being a teacher'? Read The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie —also good for learning how to be a highly inappropriate teacher, if you want to know that too. Obscured by her reputation as a wit is the fact that Spark was a religious writer—indeed, one of the most important religious writers in modern British literature. She embraced Roman Catholicism in 1954, at age 36, and joined the cohort of renowned literary Catholic converts such as T. S. Eliot, Evelyn Waugh, and Graham Greene. The most consistent influence on her work is the Bible, especially the Old Testament. She began reading it as a girl in her Presbyterian school and kept rereading it throughout her life, less for 'religious consolation,' she writes in her essay 'The Books I Re-Read and Why,' than 'for sheer enjoyment of the literature.' She was particularly drawn to the Book of Job, an anguished outcry against the seeming randomness of evil. And yet her tone throughout her work is so acidly droll, her touch so light and sly, that we could read most of her 22 novels and 41 short stories and never quite process that their central concern is God. That's because she communicates her theology largely through form rather than content. She rarely discusses; she prefers to sculpt. With a steely command of omniscience, selective disclosure, irony, and other narrative devices, Spark re-creates in the relationship between author and reader the sadomasochistic partnership between the Almighty and his hopelessly wayward flock—or, to put it another way, between his absolute truth and our partial understanding. In other words, she plays God. Not necessarily a nice God, either. In the Book of Job, the Almighty is mercilessly capricious, condemning Job to bitter suffering in a wager with Satan. This God's ends are not our ends. Nor are Spark's. A Creator who acts according to his will on his own unknowable schedule darkens her bright, chipper prose like a skull in a still life. 'Remember you must die,' the anonymous callers in Memento Mori (1959) say to their shocked elderly victims before hanging up. Frightening as these prank calls are, their recipients refuse to take the message seriously, because surely the whole thing is just a macabre practical joke. One feature of Spark's comic genius is her ability to come up with screwball storylines that recapitulate our hapless drift toward final judgment. The collision between God's lofty vantage point and human shortsightedness yields absurdist disaster. In Electric Spark: The Enigma of Dame Muriel, Frances Wilson revels in her sublimely contrary subject. Her account is a corrective to Martin Stannard's 2009 authorized Muriel Spark: The Biography, a sober, balanced, and plodding opus, though still the definitive biography. Stannard's problem was that Spark had trained as a secretary and filed everything away, no matter how trivial. (Another way of saying this is that she hoarded.) When she died, her archives consisted of 195 linear feet of 'letters, proofs, receipts, memos, agendas, minutes, newspaper cuttings, diaries and manuscripts,' Wilson writes. Spark had given Stannard exclusive access to it all. The mass of material seems to have crushed his spirit. Almost as soon as she chose him, she regretted it, and Wilson imagines her torturing Stannard the way the ghost of a murdered woman toys with her murderer in Spark's short story 'The Portobello Road.' From the September 2010 issue: The 20th century's most wickedly funny novelist Wilson, by contrast, feels free to focus on the parts of Spark's life that informed her art—and luckily for us, these are plentiful, both because Spark liked to rework her own experiences and acquaintances for her fiction, and because her life tended toward the fantastical in ways that served her writing. Wilson borrows Spark's own mystical whimsy about the relationship between her life and her work, which was that her fiction somehow preceded her experiences. 'If she wrote about a burglary,' Wilson says, 'her own house would then be broken into; if she wrote about manuscripts being stolen from a bedroom or a cache of love letters being used as blackmail, this would likewise be her fate.' This was true. Her house was burgled a decade after she wrote about similar burglaries in her novel Symposium (1990). Blackmail featured in her first novel, The Comforters (1957), and in Memento Mori; in 1963, she was blackmailed by a rare-book dealer in possession of her love letters. You'd think Spark took dictation from a far-seeing God. Indeed, that's more or less the subject of The Comforters. A young woman hears voices narrating her exact movements, or else predicting the near future, accompanied by the sound of typing. Everyone presumes she's going mad, but what the voices say is either true or about to come true. Who controls the narrative? That's Spark's big question. Whether to trust or resist those who attempt to control it is the follow-up question. A lot of untrustworthy people tried to take charge of Spark over the course of her adult life, most of them men. Her childhood, however, was happy and relatively free of such power struggles. Born Muriel Sarah Camberg in 1918 to a Jewish father, Barney, and a mother, Cissy, who had some Jewish heritage, she was raised on a haphazard mix of gods and rituals. Her mother, more eclectic than observant, Wilson writes, put seven candles in the window on the Sabbath, went to synagogue on Yom Kippur (in order, Muriel said, to show off her hat collection), celebrated Passover, kept an image of Christ in her locket, a Buddha on a lotus leaf in the living room, served hot cross buns at Easter, mince pies at Christmas and pork all year round. The family lived modestly on a street in central Edinburgh that was full of delights for a curious child. In her building were a painter, a singer, a sweetshop, and a jeweler, and outside was a communal garden to play in. The Cambergs—Muriel had an older brother—gave over one of two bedrooms in their small apartment to lodgers, then to Barney's sister and later Cissy's mother, a former suffragette (indomitable, witty, and 'astonishingly ugly,' Spark later wrote). Muriel adored them both. Her father, an engineer, was genial and funny, and friends were always dropping by. Spark's mother mocked them behind their back; Spark once called Cissy, not disapprovingly, 'a complete hypocrite.' The child internalized her mother's satirical edge as well as the neighborhood 'maxims, idioms, accents, aphorisms, rhythms and catchphrases,' Wilson writes. Her ears had memories, was how Spark put it. When she was 11 and a student at James Gillespie's High School for Girls, Spark came under the spell of Miss Kay, a pedagogical grande dame who exposed her to Italian art and Romantic poetry and trained her in poetic meter. By the time Spark was 12, she had published accomplished poems in her high-school magazine and in an anthology of poetry by Edinburgh high-school students. Miss Kay, Wilson says, 'both was and was not the model for Miss Jean Brodie,' Spark's most notorious character. They shared 'mannerisms and speech patterns'; both overpraised their protégés as the 'crème de la crème.' But Miss Kay was much nicer. Miss Brodie is partial to Nazis and Italian fascists and maneuvers her girls into position to act as her advocates and surrogates—which is not always in their interest. 'By the time they were sixteen,' Spark writes with characteristic mordancy, 'they remained unmistakably Brodie, and were all famous in the school, which is to say they were held in suspicion and not much liking.' Spark's marriage at 19, in 1937, drove home to her that the world was not inclined to let women take charge of their own destiny. Oswald Spark, a teacher who courted her for a year, had accepted a job in Rhodesia and asked Spark to follow him. He'd support her, he said, and she could keep writing poetry. She consented. Their wedding night was 'an awful mess,' Spark said later, 'a botch-up,' and marital relations did not continue for long. But she got pregnant and nearly died of septicemia after giving birth to a son, Robin, toward whom she was never able to muster as much maternal solicitude as he longed for. Oswald turned out to have a 'severe nervous disorder,' in Spark's words, and after two years, she left him. Colonial society horrified her, especially the way white people talked about black people as if they weren't human, but war had broken out and she only managed to make her escape in 1944, resorting to a troopship that had to navigate through enemy waters. She was forced to leave Robin behind; it took her 10 years to win back custody. Wilson frames the next phase of Spark's life as a key to the fiction that was still a decade away, and she's not exaggerating its importance. When Spark arrived in London in 1944, she got a job as a secretary for the head of a clandestine project overseen by the British Foreign Office. In fact, she may already have been doing undercover work. Wilson hypothesizes that she spied for the British colonial government during her last year in Rhodesia, possibly trying to uncover enemy aliens among the settlers. Wilson cites no direct evidence but rather a curious gap in the record of what she was up to, or even where she lived. Spark's new boss was a wildly imaginative and very demanding foreign correspondent of Falstaffian proportions named Sefton Delmer. His outfit, the Political Warfare Executive, conducted psyops from a secret compound north of London. The PWE's mission was 'the successful and purposeful deceit of the enemy'; it produced disinformation in German that was published in a counterfeit newspaper, sent in the form of forged letters and fake secret messages, and broadcast over the radio. An anti-Semitic Nazi talk-show host who ranted drunkenly about corruption and sexual depravity among the party elite from his illegal outpost in the fatherland, for instance, was in reality a German writer of detective fiction employed by Delmer in England. From the February 2001 issue: Dame Muriel's surreal meditation on belief Working for Delmer may have been the best training a future novelist could get. He was fanatical about verisimilitude: All the details in the team's fabrications had to ring true. He hired people from every profession. In addition to writers, he enlisted farmers, psychologists, actors, even cabaret singers, some of them German Jewish refugees knowledgeable about German life. Plus the military fed Delmer the latest intelligence. He was 'omniscient,' Wilson writes, and scary; he liked to play mind games with his own people as well as the Germans. Spark's immersion in 'a world of method and intrigue,' as she put it, taught her about the slipperiness of truth. For the rest of her life, she would be obsessed with—indeed, paranoid about—'codes, secret messages and the circulation of fictions posing as fact,' Wilson writes. Several of Spark's novels feature shady characters spying on one another and hatching whisper campaigns against a defiant but naive heroine. She later was the target of a plot herself. During Spark's brief tenure in 1947 as the editor hired to update The Poetry Review, a stodgy publication overseen by an elderly poetry society, a board member scheming to oust her pried into her life and threatened to use her divorce against her. Spark put this experience to use in more than one novel, most notably Loitering With Intent (1981), probably her funniest. The Poetry Society becomes the Autobiographical Association, whose ridiculous members write their memoirs under the supervision of the director, a snooty character clearly conniving to use their confessions for some sort of skulduggery. Then there was Spark's nervous breakdown in January 1954. Always worried about her weight, an anxiety shared by some of her heroines, she had been taking Dexedrine to control her eating. During the ensuing psychotic interlude, she fixated on T. S. Eliot, whose most recent play, The Confidential Clerk, had a character named Muriel. Convinced that Eliot, whom she had never met, had sneaked encrypted declarations of love for her into the script, she spent months obsessively trying to decode them. This wasn't easy. At one point, Wilson writes, 'Eliot's words started jumping around and cavorting, reshaping themselves in anagrams and crosswords.' A doctor weaned Spark from Dexedrine and put her on antipsychotic medication, and she briefly went into therapy with a Jungian psychologist. But Roman Catholicism restored order to her disorderly mind, Spark said. It made her 'see life as a whole rather than as a series of disconnected happenings.' She put herself in the hands of God, who sees and hears all—God being a preferable eavesdropper and spy to ex-boyfriends and boards of directors. Piety did not make her dogmatic or conservative. She neither went to confession nor renounced abortion, contraception, or divorce, and she embraced doubt. From the November 1965 issue: Muriel Sparks's poem 'Note by the Wayside' Spark's turn to religion coincided with her turn to fiction, which was not an accident. Catholicism allowed her to find her voice as a writer. While editing a volume of the letters of Cardinal John Henry Newman, she had read his Apologia Pro Vita Sua, which details the steps of his conversion to Catholicism and inspired her to begin to take her own. The qualities in his reflections that attracted her—simplicity, concision, a refusal to accept easy answers—double as a good description of the style she was developing. Catholicism itself had aesthetic appeal. She was drawn to its living magic—its 'saints, angels, miracles, and mysteries,' Wilson writes. 'She also liked the paradox, metaphor, sixth dimension and rearrangement of time and space.' For believers, those staples of faith had an immediacy and a proximity to the everyday that Spark may have felt was best embodied in fiction. From the start, in her very first (and prize-winning) short story, 'The Seraph and the Zambezi' (1951)—still one of her best—she effaced the distinction between naturalism and the supernatural. During a Christmas pageant held by a gas-station owner in his rickety garage near Rhodesia's Zambezi River, a six-winged creature appears onstage and proceeds to kick everyone else off it. It's a seraph, straight out of the Book of Isaiah. 'This is my show,' the owner, Cramer, tells it. 'Since when?' the Seraph said. 'Right from the start,' Cramer breathed at him. 'Well, it's been mine from the Beginning,' said the Seraph, 'and the Beginning began first.' Why Catholicism and not, say, Scottish Presbyterianism, the country's Calvinist-inflected denomination of her youth, or her father's Judaism? Spark's love of high style surely rebelled against the austerity of Protestantism, both in worship and creed. (As a writer, however, she made heavy use of the doctrine of predestination, disposing of characters summarily and parodying herself in the figure of Miss Jean Brodie. 'She thinks she is Providence,' a disenchanted student reflects. 'She thinks she is the God of Calvin.') Spark was even more conflicted about Judaism. In The Mandelbaum Gate (1965), a chatty, muddled autobiographical novel, she describes her protagonist going back and forth between her chilly Christian relatives and her warmer Jewish ones and belonging among neither. To one side of the family, she was faintly pitiable because she was half Jewish; the other was kinder, but she felt her lack of Jewish knowledge excluded her from their cozy home rituals. Spark always had the Bible, though, and read it 'with a sense that it was specially mine,' as she put it. She thought God had given a good answer when Moses had asked his name at the burning bush: I am who I am. Was she 'a Gentile' or was she 'a Jewess'? 'Both and neither. What am I? I am what I am,' she writes in her essay 'Note on My Story 'The Gentile Jewesses.' ' Spark's range as a novelist was impressive—one work might adopt the guise of a murder mystery, the next of a ghost story—but she had a signature rhetorical move: prolepsis. The scholar Clare Bucknell came up with a Spark-worthy term for it: the 'auto-spoiler.' In a throwaway remark toward the beginning of a story, the narrator gives away the end. We learn in Chapter 3 of The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (1961) that one of the Brodie set will betray her to the school's administration, which is desperate for an excuse to get rid of her. In The Driver's Seat (1970), Spark's most surreal novel and also her favorite, we are told, also in the third chapter, that the tourist disembarking in a Southern European city will have been murdered by the next morning. By revealing the fate of her characters, Spark frees us from the grip of curiosity about what's going to happen and forces us to study why. Who made it happen? What does it mean? Does providence foreordain or do characters have a say? Is everything a conspiracy or does accident play a role? Spark's convictions let her interrogate God's designs without despairing that there are none. As a child, Spark had found God to be 'a charming and witty character' with 'a lot of conflicting sides to his nature,' as she wrote. The worry that crops up in her fiction is that he'll turn out to be a rogue operator like her old boss Delmer. But Spark also admired the God of Job because he was 'not the God of love,' Wilson writes. He was the braggart God who boasted to Job that—in Spark's words—'I made this and I created that, and I can crush and I can blast and I can blow. And who are you to ask questions?' A devoted ironist is the answer: Spark reserved the right not only to ask questions but to admit amusement and dismay into her faith. Anyone can worship a God who doesn't trim himself to the size of the human imagination—that's what God is for, to make sure that we don't mistake our petty schemes for anything other than half-baked. But it takes a Spark to be fond of a God who chest-thumps and is otherwise outlandish—a God who, she writes, 'basks unashamed in his own glory, and in his anger is positively blasphemous.' Because who are we to say how God should behave?
USA Today
8 hours ago
- USA Today
Venus Williams, Irina Shayk, Tilda Swinton grace star-studded 2026 Perelli calendar
Tennis star Venus Williams, singer FKA Twigs, supermodel Irina Shayk, "Game of Thrones" actress Gwendoline Christie and Oscar winner Tilda Swinton are among the stars featured in Pirelli's 2026 calendar. The photographer for the 52nd edition of the calendar – known as The Cal – is London-based creative Sølve Sundsbø and photos were taken in England's Norfolk and Essex as well as New York City. In behind-the-scenes images that offer a preview of the star-studded spread, the forthcoming Cal models pose artistically among backgrounds that blend aquatics, the floral world and sky. The full slate of images are set to be released later this year. "For the 2026 Calendar, I want to capture emotions, instincts and states of mind that's central to human life so: longing for freedom, curiosity, thirst of knowledge, I guess you can call it," Sundsbø said in a press release. "Some kind of mystery, imagination, passions, the desire for emancipation, the connection with nature and our relationship with time and space." Padma Lakshmi, John Boyega, Hunter Schafer star in Pirelli's 2025 calendar: See the photos Other calendar stars in the 2026 edition include '90s supermodel Eva Herzigová, ex-Vampire's Wife designer Susie Cave, "Blink Twice" star Adria Arjona, groundbreaking model Du Juan, Italian actress Luisa Ranieri and Oscar nominee Isabella Rossellini who recently starred in "Conclave." Former "Top Chef" host Padma Lakshmi, "Queen & Slim" leading lady Jodie Turner-Smith, "Bridgerton" star Simone Ashley, "Star Wars" actor John Boyega and "Euphoria" breakout talent Hunter Schafer appeared in last year's calendar. Idris Elba, Bella and Gigi Hadid, Kristen Stewart, Rosalía, Emma Watson, Cher and Iggy Pop are among other famous faces who appeared on The Cal in recent years. The Cal "was born as an exclusive project" of the group's British subsidiary as they sought a marketing strategy to differentiate the brand from its competition in 1964, according to the company. The calendar was conceptualized as a gift to the tire maker's clients. The Cal's six-decade history features defining moments including noted British fashion photographer Terence Donovan photographing only Black models, including then-teen talent Naomi Campbell before she became a modeling superstar, in 1987. Former Chanel creative director Karl Lagerfeld – who died in 2019 – helmed the 2011 calendar and legendary portrait photographer Annie Leibovitz was behind the lens of the 2000 and 2016 editions. Per Perelli, the calendar aims to "mark the passing of time with images by the most highly acclaimed photographers of the moment – capturing and interpreting contemporary culture and often anticipating new trends."
