( 5 reviews )
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( 2 of 2 found this review helpful ) Posted: Nov 8 2006
Sir Walter Scott began WAVERLEY, his first novel, in 1805. Years later, after his move to his dream home Abbotsford near the border with England, he found his manuscript while rummaging in a fishing tackle box. He then brought the world's first historical novel to a conclusion in 1814. Abe Lincoln read Walter Scott. His children entertained their mother re-enacting scenes from the WAVERLEY series of novels. I wonder therefore if Lincoln's "Four score and seven years ago..." does not echo WAVERLEY's frequently repeated sub-title, " 'Tis Sixty Years Since." WAVERLEY is narrated as from 1805, the year it was begun, and for both it and the Gettysburg Address, a reader inevitably starts calculating backwards. What date are we talking about? Ah,1745 for young Edward Waverley. We know (as he does not) what turmoil he is letting himself in for when he rides into the Highlands -- the last hurrah of the legitimate Stuart dynasty. And 1776 for Abe Lincoln meant the Declaration of Independence. In 1745 "auld" Scotland almost disappeared in defeat. In 1776 Hanoverian Britain began its retreat from North America. Scott tells us in i.1 (p. 5) that in 1745 our ancestors expressed their anger directly, by taking up arms. But in 1805/1814 his generation was more indirect, taking enemies to court. This very great novel should be read for sheer entertainment, for its characters, for the omnipresent black bears of the Baron of Bradwardine and for its love story. But I suggest that we read it as well as history and geography. Are we up for the sounds of broad Scots language? For a smidgen of Highland Gaelic (which Scott barely knew)? To learn about doch and dorroch and the stirrup-cup? Through hundreds of details of what Scotsmen ate, how they dressed, how beautiful were their mountains and waters near Perth, Walter Scott brought Scotland to life in England and throughout Europe and in the USA. WAVERLEY makes us take Scotland, the real Scotland of history, seriously. We see its educated Catholic Highlanders sending their children to study in France and Italy. Bonnie Prince Charlie lost only one battle of several, but it was enough to secure Hanoverians their throne. We sense that the transition, however awful, was inevitable from fiercely independent Scotland to an uncomfortable, demoted "North Britain" within a prospering, peaceful United Kingdom of middle-class shopkeepers. Walter Scott makes us ask what if any history has to teach us. Not only is WAVERLEY the first historical novel. It is also the first political novel. We see dimly how a generally dismal set of rulers, the Stuart dynasty, could continue to win men's loyalty to a lost cause. In a later novel, also about Prince Charlie 20 years later, we read of a Scottish family named REDGAUNTLET whose fate was always to be on the losing side. What makes subjects or citizens alike glory in losing for political principle? Mark Twain wrote as if all Walter Scott cared about were kings and dynasties, knights, beautiful high-born ladies and lost inheritances. But day after day in court in Edinburgh he heard argued cases of little people with religious and inherited passions and prejudices, not to mention superstitions. He remembered them all, along with the tales he heard as a boy and the ballads he researched for seven consecutive summers as a young adult. These little people live again in WAVERLEY and in Scott's 26 other novels as well. -OOO-
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( 4 of 4 found this review helpful ) Posted: Sep 21 2005
The first 200 pages of "Waverley" represent an early zenith for novelists testing the patience of their readership. After a lengthy introduction where author Sir Walter Scott mocks the romantic pretentiousness then abounding among novelists, he proceeds to introduce us to assorted personages we will never meet again before finally focusing on the opaque central character, whose name not only gives us the book's title but a sense of grating irresolution which comes to define him. The reader's feet start tapping. Scott then throws up a detailed sequence of non-events. Young Waverley joins the British army, marches off to Scotland, and becomes the guest of every Highland warlord with a grudge against His Majesty. I may have left off a couple of incidents, but that's the sum total of the action for the first third or so of the book. "Shall this be a long or short chapter?" he teasingly asks at the beginning of his 24th chapter, nearly 200 pages in. "Waverley" does eventually kick itself into a higher gear, not that it ever becomes a thrill-ride. But he imbues his mysterious Scottish landscape with an aura that swirls around the reader and, though hard to explain coherently, becomes not only quite charming but compelling, too. Waverley, like David Copperfield and many other such heroes of 19th century fiction, finds himself torn between two women, and as his attempts at wooing one fell painfully short, I found myself cutting across the chasm of time and really identifying with the guy. "The sensation of hope with which he had nursed his affection in absence of the beloved object seemed to vanish in her presence..." Scott's remedy for such pining is also too good not to quote: "I knew a very accomplished and sensible young man cured of a violent passion for a pretty woman, whose talents were not equal to her face and figure, by being permitted to bear her company for a whole afternoon." I wish I had the stomach to finish this book the first time I tried to read it, when I was a sophomore in high school. It might have saved me much misery. The noteworthy thing about "Waverley," as others here comment, is that it plays off the romantic ideal of the day in a character whose inconstancy is a deliberate statement about how such all-or-nothing sentiments can be misleading, even injurious. Edward Waverley, introduced to us memorably (if at great length) in terms of the books he starts but doesn't finish, becomes a waterbug skittering across the waves of history, once a loyal supporter of the Hanoveran throne, then a rebel Jacobite, as his loyalties are played by people of varying moral hues. "Well, after all, every thing has its fair as well as its seamy side," Waverley declares by the second half of the book, beginning to understand. What makes "Waverley" a great book are the characters around Waverley more than the man himself, especially one rebel named Fergus who takes his measure of Waverley's indecisive character, and his station as the heir to a British title, in order to manipulate him. Scott does this so subtly we may feel ourselves as caught out as young Edward when he learns the score, but it works not only because it carries logical force within the ever-shifting narrative but doesn't turn Fergus into a villain so much as a man who does what he can with what he has. For all the romantic stuff, well presented indeed, it's the relationship between Waverley and Fergus that carries the strongest resonant strain, since it isn't exactly a friendship or adversarial, but a bit of both with an undercurrent of tragedy that becomes more focused toward the end. "Waverley" isn't a well-structured novel per se, given the sluggish opening and Waverley's pinball-like relationship to the politics around him. Readers of "Ivanhoe" will miss the firmer storyline of that work, not to mention comic relief in the form of pithy Wamba of that book rather than the windy, Latin-loving Baron, though the latter has his moments. Everyone in "Waverley" has their moments, and they add up to a great book once the momentum gets going. It's a tough climb, but you'll be glad you made the effort when it's over.
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( 9 of 9 found this review helpful ) Posted: Oct 24 2003
Scott can be a ragged storyteller, by our contemporary standards (which are unfair to apply, since he showed the way to all future English novelists). Patches of WAVERLEY are ragged and rambling. Such humor as there is is not very funny, and sometimes when the action is meant to be sweeping, it is more nearly absurd.None of this is without compensations. The English novel was still young and unformed, and Scott is alive to all its possibilities, with a freshness and boldness not available to later writers. He thinks nothing, for instance, of having his hero (here as in IVANHOE) sick or asleep while the action is conducted elsewhere by more vidid, nominally secondary characters.But WAVERLEY is not just of historical interest. It accomplishes something unique in the Bildungsroman genre. In its time, and even now, it is thought of as a nonpareil romantic adventure, but the reputation is misleading, since it is mostly about the unraveling of Waverley's romantic notions. For a time we share them: how merry and noble the highlanders seem, how manly and swashbuckling their leader, Fergus; how accomplished and womanly his sister, the beautiful Flora. By the the end of the book, however, Waverley's cause has turned to ashes, the man he idolized is revealed as an unfeeling monomaniac, and the woman he thought he loved seems just a sour harpy. The cold slap of reality is an experience common enough in life, the painful accompaniment of growing up, but you'll have to look far and wide to find it so cannily presented in fiction as here.
