I felt this novel dragged and I was not engaged by the main character of The Antiquary himself or by the younger hero and heroine who were cyphers even more than usual in Scott novels. However, there are some wonderfully lurid plots and gothic adventure in this novel and interesting digressions on what it means to be an antiquary in the eighteenth century so still worth a read.

The Antiquary has going for it a strong line up of interesting and rather contrasted characters. The main character, the Antiquary is an eccentric Scottish nobleman, a sort of amateur historian and a bit of a snob. As a result, at times this leads to dialogue about obscure historical and archaeological titbits that may turn some off and may charm others. While the Scottish dialogue would have been familiar to most of Scott’s 19th century English readers as would a Brooklyn accent to most Americans, I expect most North Americans such as I will find the Scottish dialogue to be a bit to chew on. I did stumble a few times on such dialogue, but as I plugged along I did pick up some vocabulary (“ken”=understand, “bairn”=children and “unco”=uncommon) and felt my perseverance was rewarded. While the storyline did plod at times Scott does you make you care enough about the characters to take you to the end of the story. Perhaps not a sample of Scott’s best writing, but still worth reading.

I DIDN'T read this particular edition, but rather a Everyman's edition printed by Dent & Sons, 1907/1969.

An exellent story, with lively characters, plenty of intrigue, and a dash of humour.

I read this a few years ago but never wrote a review. Though I've forgotten many details of the book, I remember enjoying it. And it must have stuck with me. Right now we're shopping for a vacuum cleaner, and every time I see the Dirt Devils, I hear Ochiltree in my mind saying "Duster-Deevil." In David Tennant's voice, for some odd reason. Just had to leave that here for people who would understand. :-)

As the third entry in the Waverley series, I would rate it slightly higher than Waverley but well below Guy Mannering.

The characters in the story are a mixed bag. The antiquary and Edie Ochiltree are wonderfully detailed and engaging, while the rest of the characters seem rather flat. Miss Wardour, in particular, lacks depth.

There are few really exciting moments in the book, and it doesn't quite keep you on the edge of your seat.

However, I did appreciate the writing style, which has a somewhat old-fashioned and scholarly feel. But in terms of storytelling, it doesn't quite measure up to the standard set by Guy Mannering.

The funniest of all the Sir Walter novels I have yet read; yet also the most lacking in the type of gripping historical adventure that characterises the best of his work.

Wishing that I'd not been so behind in all of my classes when I first encountered this book in a class at Brigham Young University with Prof. Westover. He had a thorough understanding of all the references and nuances which lace every page, along with the various dialects of the characters through out. Never-the-less, it gradually made enough sense to prove a delightful read, with complex characters, a surprise ending and passages that I read over several times for the sheer enjoyment of repeatedly experiencing the wording.

For example, here's an excerpt from an exchange in chapter 28, between Edie and Oldbuck:
"...for a' the nonsense maggots that ye whiles take into your head, ye are the maist wise and discreet o' a' our country gentles."~Edie
"...whether it be owing to the wisdom or to the maggots with which you compliment me, I am strongly disposed to believe that which you have spoken the truth..." ~Oldbuck.

Although it was difficult to accustom myself to the meaning in much of the dialogue, and I believe, would be a chore for most modern readers to decipher, the novel clearly deserves a 5 rating. It's not Sir Walter Scott's fault that I don't speak Latin or recognize most of the the Antiquary's allusions!

Third book in the Waverley Novels series. I am getting fonder of Walter Scotts fiction by the minute. First and foremost he was a great story teller and for me that's what matters.

The Antiquary starts with a journey that a man named Lovel and an antiquary called Oldbuck take together to Scotland. At the centre of the book is mystery surrounding who Lovel really is, and we start to discover more and more about him through his interactions with the antiquary.

I really struggled with this book - it's something I just couldn't wrap my head around. There is a lot of text in this written in Scottish dialect that made it a very slow read. I found I was focusing more on deciphering what was being said than thinking about the meaning behind the words and then missed a lot of that. It was a fairly hefty read (at over 500 pages), but there just wasn't masses of plot to keep me interested.

"Hector, querido, un agente de la justicia es un enemigo más peligroso que un fócido, ya sea una phoca barbata o la phoca vitulina de tu reciente conflicto."

Al principio se me hacía cuesta arriba el libro porque parecía estar compuesto de muchas historias independientes y poco interesantes, los personajes no me atraían y la enorme cantidad de notas del traductor me interrumpían tanto el hilo de la lectura que se hacía difícil engancharse.

Sin embargo, hacia la mitad hay una historia muy graciosa sobre el encontronazo del personaje de Héctor con una foca, y todo cambia. Las historias que parecían disgregadas empiezan a encontrar puntos de unión y los toques de humor me han sorprendido y me han encantado. Además tiene un trasfondo de crítica y sátira sobre la administración, el feudalismo y otros temas bastante interesante.
Creo que merece la pena tener paciencia y darle un voto de confianza porque puede sorprender.

Very good book

"Let us see now: A collection of fugitive pieces; but no—your fugitive poetry is apt to become stationary with the bookseller. It should be something at once solid and attractive—none of your romances or anomalous novelties—I would have you take high ground at once. Let me see: What think you of a real epic?—the grand old-fashioned historical poem which moved through twelve or twenty-four books. We’ll have it so—I’ll supply you with a subject—The battle between the Caledonians and Romans—The Caledoniad; or, Invasion Repelled;—let that be the title—it will suit the present taste, and you may throw in a touch of the times.”

“But the invasion of Agricola was not repelled.”

“No; but you are a poet—free of the corporation, and as little bound down to truth or probability as Virgil himself—You may defeat the Romans in spite of Tacitus.”

“And pitch Agricola’s camp at the Kaim of—what do you call it,” answered Lovel, “in defiance of Edie Ochiltree?”

“No more of that, an thou lovest me—And yet, I dare say, ye may unwittingly speak most correct truth in both instances, in despite of the toga of the historian and the blue gown of the mendicant.”

“Gallantly counselled!—Well, I will do my best—your kindness will assist me with local information.”

“Will I not, man?—why, I will write the critical and historical notes on each canto, and draw out the plan of the story myself. I pretend to some poetical genius, Mr. Lovel, only I was never able to write verses.”

“It is a pity, sir, that you should have failed in a qualification somewhat essential to the art.”

“Essential?—not a whit—it is the mere mechanical department. A man may be a poet without measuring spondees and dactyls like the ancients, or clashing the ends of lines into rhyme like the moderns, as one may be an architect though unable to labour like a stone-mason—Dost think Palladio or Vitruvius ever carried a hod?”

“In that case, there should be two authors to each poem—one to think and plan, another to execute.”

“Why, it would not be amiss; at any rate, we’ll make the experiment;—not that I would wish to give my name to the public—assistance from a learned friend might be acknowledged in the preface after what flourish your nature will—I am a total stranger to authorial vanity.”