Waverley

Waverly, or 'tis Sixty Years Since can be an infuriating book. Even those accustomed to the leisurely movement of 19th century prose will find its style not only wordy but also occasionally infelicitous, its plot not only meandering but also digressive. It takes at least a quarter of the book—-perhaps a third—-to get the plot going, and I must admit that one comic character in particular--the Baron Bradwardine, who continually spouts Latin tags, lecturing all and sundry on the minutiae of family history and heraldry—was almost enough, all by his aristocratic self, to make me abandon the book.

And yet . . . when we get to the Highlands, things start to open up. The scenery and tableaux vivants—from Donald Bean Lean lurking in his robber cavern, to the bonny Flora MacIvor harping and singing on a height near a highland waterfall--are thrillingly gothic, delightfully romantic; yet, as our young hero Edward Waverly—a bit of a Quixote—encounters the people of this magnificent landscape, the reader discovers—as Waverly also discovers--that even the best of them are deeply affected by politics, and that most of them are incapable of making a decision without considerable political calculation.

It is this political consciousness that makes Waverly--and all the Scott novels that came after--a unique contribution to the development of the form. He is commonly considered the first historical novelist because--unlike Mrs. Radcliffe, "Monk" Lewis and others--he uses the past for more than exotic locales, and establishes his narratives firmly in time, with characters who exhibit contemporary manners and participate in historical events. All of this is true, although I think it could be argued that a few earlier novels--Clara Reeve's The Old English Barron, Godwin's St. Leon, and, most particularly, Edgeworth's Castle Rackrent (set "eighteen years since," before Ireland's Constitution of 1782)--make good attempts in this direction. But it is Scott's profound understanding of politics--particularly Scottish politics--and his precise delineation of how those politics often inform and sometimes determine even the simplest actions, that enabled him to combine a lawyer's realism with a poet's love of atmosphere, creating from their union a distinctly new kind of novel.

I did not love this book. I plodded through it for the sake of book club. It took far too long for the narrative to choose a direction. I would, perhaps, have been more engaged with the story had I a better grasp of eighteenth century European history with all its Jacobites and Tories and Stuarts and so on. I really couldn't follow it all. Waverly himself was not a hero's hero. Things just kind of happened to him. It takes him a good long while to become an active player in his own story. I have to hand it to Sir Walter Scott though, he knows a great many words. Keep a dictionary handy for this one.

3.5 stars

The only reason I finished this novel is because I love to hate it. I think Walter Scott is great at poetry but not necessarily at writing novels. This one could have been significantly shorter if all the inconsequential scenes and exposition would have been condensed down. Edward Waverley is one type of "hero" I don't like in fiction, he stumbles into the story with little inherent values and stumbles out of trouble as well. He's even tricked in a very obvious way. In that way he reminds me of Eichendorff's Taugenichts and I hated that novel in school. Two things I liked are the poetry and Flora MacIvor (who at least has principles and isn't cruel).

I’m not far into my revisiting of Walter Scott’s work, and it’s clear it won’t get any better than this. Maybe we can call this “middlebrow,” something that is quasi-serious, something bordering on sophisticated literature without quite pushing the boundaries of what literature can do. But that hardly matters. With Waverley, Scott more or less invented not just the historical novel but also the modern adventure novel. Others have refined the formula, but this is where much of pure adolescent fun began in fiction.

The story is straightforward. Edward Waverley is the heir to a nice estate, but he decides to burnish his standing by joining the English army as it readies for potential threat in Scotland. Once he arrives, he’s seduced by the poetry of the Highland Scots loyalists as they rally around the rebellion of Bonnie Prince Charlie. For various romantic reasons – he’s in love with one woman, then another and he has a kind of bromance with some of the Highland warriors – he winds up in open rebellion against the army and crown to which he is sworn.

Lots of people die in this, but Scott tends to look the other way. Instead, we get the basic good humor of the better Hollywood blockbusters. This is Die Hard or one of the better-humored Bond films. Our hero is always proximate to violence, but he’s never really to blame for it. Instead, he gets a pass for being such a romantic figure, for being our protagonist whether we have asked for him or not.

There aren’t existential questions here, just adventure. Waverley is fortune’s son, and she never deserts him. From today’s vantage we could well interrogate his implicit privilege. He doesn’t labor under the explicit otherness of the exotic Highlanders, and he isn’t stuck being a woman. (To Scott’s real credit, he does explore what it’s like for Flora to have to watch as her brother goes to fight a hopeless battle that she feels she’s instigated.)

All such seriousness aside, it’s hard to ask for much more. Yes, much of the adventure is dated. Yes, there are some contrived elements, especially when Waverley takes prisoner one of the few men who can help extricate him from the wreck of the failed rebellion. (Yes, it fails. Anyone reading this would know enough history to recognize that going in.)

Scott was embarrassed enough by this – by the idea that he was writing in prose rather than the more elegant poetry – that he published it anonymously. But he hit a nerve. This turns out to be the origin of much of contemporary entertainment, a celebration of adventure that talks to real history without altering the outcomes that we know are coming.

I recently read Kenilworth and found it too contrived to be entirely satisfying. I have read Ivanhoe a couple times and loved it for its conversation with Arthurian legend and for its rare celebration of Jewish characters. This has all the virtues of Ivanhoe plus an unexpected dash of good humor.

Word of warning if you try this: the Scots dialect is sometimes tough to untangle, and Scott skips many of the explanations of how various battles play out – since his readership would already know all that. Plus there are strange apparatuses of footnotes giving background on still-standing landmarks and various Highlander social and military practices.

But as a bottom line, Scott set out to explore a possibility in writing that no one had quite accomplished before him. And then he delivered.

twas a bit o trouble

I like classics. I am not afraid of a little bit of antiquated language. I enjoy a challenge. However reading dialogue in archaic Scottish brogue, liberally seasoned with Latin and French quotes, without translations, well it twas a wee bit much – if you kin me meaning.

Then there his Waverly lad, he is also a wee bit much. A proud Englishman, who has a couple of brews with the local lads while in Scotland, reads some poetry, falls for a pretty yet serious Scottish lass, then takes up arms against the English. (Well, tis a known fact, Scottish ale being superior to English stout. So, it's not like he didn't have a good reason for his actions, not to mention the lass having long luxurious black hair and green eyes and all that.)

So anyways, the war progresses and things once again turn out badly for the Scots and our friend Waverly starts thinking that being a Brit again might be a fine thing. I mean fighting manly with your mates is a good and noble thing, but then a proper uniform, a privileged family, a nice castle, these things deserve consideration as well. (Not to mention the needs of young domestic, native, blond, blue eyed girls awaiting the attention of suitably fine handsome young gentlemen, processing castles.)

Anyway, all is forgiven ... he gets married .. he has kids (they all have blue eyes), hires ground-keepers (mostly, Scots), leaving the poor reader to wonder .. so what was he fighting for?

An interesting and compelling novel - I'm enjoying discovering Walter Scott.

Joelle WILL Read Her Bookcase #16

Not my favorite Scott novel, and I felt like I didn't really engage with Waverly until the 3rd part. It is, however, a fascinating vignette on the Scottish Highlands' support for Charles II, and a harsh critique of romanticism. I rated it higher because of those attributes, even if the plot did seem to drag on a bit vis-a-vis one of the Baron of Brandwardine's monologues.