Ivanhoe

The novel that started the craze for historical fiction set in medieval times. All the tropes are already here, Normans and Saxons, Templars, tournaments, sieges of castles, Richard the Lionheart and treacherous Prince John, Robin Hood and Friar Tuck, beautiful oppressed heroines, accusations of sorcery.

We live in a more cynical age, so it does need a hefty suspension of belief but nevertheless I thoroughly enjoyed it even if I found the dialogue a bit stagy at times.

This was a pleasant surprise! I knew Ivanhoe from my youth from the boys' books and from the black-and-white films, but the original version really has much more to offer. And while reading you gradually notice more and more aspects and themes that rightly make this novel world literature. It starts off quite Chaucerian (including the mottos at the beginning of the chapters), with the clearly medieval setting, the strong anti-clerical accents, and the antagonism between Norman and Anglo-Saxon nobles. At a certain point I thought this predominantly was a nationalistic novel because of the pronounced anti-French slant (it is no coincidence that the book was written shortly after of the struggle against Napoleon). A bit further on, the show more very emphasized rejection of anti-Semitism became apparent. Of course, the knightly ideal is also fully addressed, although with a sting: Scott clearly emphasizes how outdated this obsessive adherence to the exalted values of knighthood is, how flawed and counterproductive. He even lets his characters reflect on this. And so it turns out that almost all the characters are people with shortcomings: the lust for power and the cynicism of the Normans, the nostalgic clinging to the past of the Anglo-Saxons, even the so sympathetically portrayed Jew Isaac, as avarice itself, and also the ‘good’ knights Ivanhoe and Richard the Lionheart do not escape it; Scott regularly puts them on display with cunning irony. Two exceptions: the ladies Rowena and Rebecca; Rowena is portrayed a bit too angelically for my taste, she hardly weighs on the story; but Rebecca, on the other hand, is a woman who stands firmly; she even seems – more than Ivanhoe – to be the most important character, and therefore gets the last word.
Of course there are the ‘Romantics’-aspects: the extensive descriptions of castles, forests and tournaments.; the sometimes very pathetically escalating emotions of the characters, and a number of very improbable twists, including the predictable and quickly reeled off happy ending. But Ivanhoe is more than a simple novel, and certainly much more than a boy's story. I enjoyed this very much. show less

Wilfred of Ivanhoe is a secondary character in his titular novel, which does more to provide a basis for the modern Robin Hood myth than anything else. It is slow to start (the setup drags on for what seems like ever), but once the action begins, this is a cracking good read. There are several storylines which split off and weave their way back together by the end of the narrative.

It was definitely enraging to read Rebecca's storyline, as she's basically kidnapped against her will and taken to a priory, where she's then tried as a sorceress for "tempting" the man who kidnapped her. Rage-inducing does not even begin to cover it! At least Rebecca had some backbone and continually threw off the Templar's advances. She'd rather die than go show more anywhere willingly with him. Go Rebecca!

You could only class this as a (small-r) romance if you squint reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeally hard at the penultimate chapters. Otherwise, this is more about chivalry and courtly devotion than anything else. Read it for the adventure and to learn more about Robin Hood, not because you're looking for the star-crossed lovers promised in the book blurb. show less

Knights errant, jousting tournaments, a king in disguise and a plot against said king, fair damosels and their various distresses, a fool who is touchingly loyal to his gruff master, naughty templars and Robin of Locksley. What else could one possibly want or need in a story? Well, maybe just a smidge less anti-Semitism, to be honest. But otherwise, this one is a hoot.

(Seriously, the way Isaac of York is treated across the board by 'good' and 'bad' guys alike bothered me enough to knock me right out of the story on several occasions. Product of the times and all, I suppose, but the cavalier nature of it all sets my teeth on edge.)

Almost Shakespearean, occasionally. Bold and exciting story running parallel to the Robin Hood myth. The most interesting thing about this book from the 1800s is the awareness of racial, religious and gender tensions. The author had a very modern, tolerant view, showing Christians, Jews, and Muslims to all be equally human, with both selfish and noble parts among them. Then he crafts several clever examples of how and why women get the short end of the stick, and are often blamed for the choices made by men. The narrative loses its way now and then, there are too many POVs, and the poetry and songs interlaced in the narrative do nothing for me, but this is a classic that everyone should read.

When I was a youngster, one of our favorite family activities was to play the then-familiar card game called Authors, which was basically "Go Fish" with the likes of Hawthorne, Tennyson, Longfellow, and Dickens in sets of four instead of numeric rank within suit. (Where else would you find James Fenimore Cooper on a peer footing with William Shakespeare?) Thus the face of Sir Walter Scott was more familiar to me than that of my own deceased grandmother.

Scott was, in fact, an icon of classic entertainment, an author whose works were among the staples of childhood and young adult reading, with their jousting knights in armor, their chivalrous deeds and dark intrigues, their acts of high valor and foul treachery, their political show more allegiances and divided loyalties, their spirited damsels and their swashbuckling heroes.

In ninth grade, when my classmates and I were assigned to read Ivanhoe, I met Scott like an old family friend. The affectionate greeting, however, was not returned with equal warmth. In fact, the language and substance of this novel were both so alien to me that I honestly don't know how I managed to read it at all.

In those days, meaning the end of the Eisenhower administration, Ivanhoe was required reading in public schools across the U.S. I can't imagine why. I didn't hate it--I never hated anything we read in school. I was a straight-A English student throughout my scholastic career and later made language the basis of my profession. But the necessary knowledge of British history and traditional social structure, command of an archaic vocabulary, and ability to parse the convoluted style and grammar of the early nineteenth century in another culture all seem like formidable obstacles to comprehension for young teenagers, even without the adult themes and conflicts, the violence, and the very disturbing vein of institutionalized antisemitism that prevail throughout the novel.

How many 14-year-olds could have been expected to get much of anything out of this? All else aside, how much knowledge of medieval England and its politics was any American highschooler expected to have? I'm amazed that there weren't dozens of more recent, more generally readable, and more culturally apt choices that were considered to be essential to the education of American young people. I got through it somehow, along with the rest of my ninth-grade class, but I missed all the adventure in a sea of confusing language, lost context, and bewildering names. What a shame that curriculum requirements, both then and now, should serve to foster lifelong antipathy toward certain works and toward reading in general when, now more than ever, literacy is an essential skill and severely weakened cultural bonds could use reinforcement.

In intervening years I have read quantities of British literature and older literature and older British literature, and I feel very much at home with it. I'm comfortable with both a nineteenth-century prose style and a medieval setting. Archaic vocabulary does not trip me up, and I don't mind protracted descriptions, windy commentary, or so-called author intrusion. Still, it took me a long while to come back around to Scott.

A couple of years ago I enjoyed The Bride of Lammermoor, followed by The Heart of Midlothian. After that it seemed to be time to revisit Ivanhoe. I finished it a week ago.

From my present perspective, Ivanhoe is a relic, not so much of the historical period of its setting (with which Scott admitted to having taken considerable liberties) or even of the literary era in which it was written (early nineteenth century) as of a period in our European-American cultural and educational history in which youngsters read romances such as Ivanhoe voluntarily and for pleasure. Those same audiences these days would be viewing action movies for which you don't actually need a vocabulary at all.

Or maybe those aren't the kids avidly watching car chases and explosions and splattering pixels of gore in first-person-shooter video games. Maybe they're among the considerably smaller number who play chess and Magic: The Gathering and Sodoku: a relatively privileged, nerdy set (privileged if only with the motive, means, and opportunity to do those things) who don't gravitate toward the lowest common denominator. In any event, their path to imaginative excitement and adventure is not via such printed words as these:

=====(Excerpt begins)

"I am indeed bound to vengeance," murmured Cedric; "Saint Withold knows my heart."

Front-de-Boeuf, in the meanwhile, led the way to a postern, where, passing the moat on a single plank, they reached a small barbican, or exterior defence, which communicated with the open field by a well-fortified sallyport.

"Begone, then; and if thou wilt do mine errand, and if thou return hither when it is done, thou shalt see Saxon flesh cheap as ever was hog's in the shambles of Sheffield. And, hark thee, thou seemest to be a jolly confessor---come hither after the onslaught, and thou shalt have as much Malvoisie as would drench thy whole convent."

"Assuredly we shall meet again," answered Cedric.

"Something in hand the whilst," continued the Norman; and, as they parted at the postern door, he thrust into Cedric's reluctant hand a gold byzant, adding, "Remember, I will flay off both cowl and skin, if thou failest in thy purpose."

"And full leave will I give thee to do both," answered Cedric, leaving the postern, and striding forth over the free field with a joyful step, "if, when we meet next, I deserve not better at thine hand."---Turning then back towards the castle, he threw the piece of gold towards the donor, exclaiming at the same time, "False Norman, thy money perish with thee!"

Front-de-Boeuf heard the words imperfectly, but the action was suspicious---"Archers," he called to the warders on the outward battlements, "send me an arrow through yon monk's frock!---yet stay," he said, as his retainers were bending their bows, "it avails not--we must thus far trust him since we have no better shift. I think he dares not betray me---at the worst I can but treat with these Saxon dogs whom I have safe in kennel. Ho! Giles gaoler, let them bring Cedric of Rotherwood before me, and the other churl, his companion---him I mean of Coningsburgh ---Athelstane there, or what call they him? Their very names are an encumbrance to a Norman knight's mouth, and have, as it were, a flavour of bacon. Give me a stoup of wine, as jolly Prince John said, that I may wash away the relish---place it in the armoury, and thither lead the prisoners."

His commands were obeyed; and, upon entering that Gothic apartment, hung with many spoils won by his own valour and that of his father, he found a flagon of wine on the massive oaken table, and the two Saxon captives under the guard of four of his dependents. Front-de-Boeuf took a long drought of wine, and then addressed his prisoners---for the manner in which Wamba drew the cap over his face, the change of dress, the gloomy and broken light, and the Baron's imperfect acquaintance with the features of Cedric (who avoided his Norman neighbours, and seldom stirred beyond his own domains) prevented him from discovering that the most important of his captives had made his escape.

=====(Excerpt ends)

That lengthy and randomly chosen passage depicting a tense, suspenseful escape is adequately representative of the flavor of the whole. I would be willing to wager that no reader in 2013, no matter how widely read and how well versed in older literature, would have difficulty understanding how daunting four hundred pages of the same would be to today's young reader.

Did I enjoy the book? I did. I was sorry when it ended. And naturally it is no fault of the author and no criticism of his literary tradition to anticipate that the present generation of readers will have little appetite for this work. Whether that should be so is irrelevant; the truth is that it is.

I wonder how much longer there will be readers outside of academe who can read it at all. show less

A friend tells me Scott was credited with being one of the first to write historical fiction, perhaps the inventor of historical fiction. Ivanhoe may not be historically accurate, but I found Scott's efforts to intertwine his historical references with the narrative most impressive. Richard the Lion-Hearted and King John, certainly, as well as Robin Hood and Friar Tuck come alive for the reader in this fast-paced action story. (Some readers would argue that the convoluted language and the stilted efforts of Scott to explain the sequencing of events in the narrative negate his efforts to depict rollicking adventure, but once you grow accustomed to his language, the novel moves at a fast clip.) Most of the characters are drawn in a more show more nuanced way than you might credit given how they now appear so archetypal, but if you take a break from the action to think about the moral conflicts they embody, you can see why Scott's novel has endured. Well-worth reading. show less