Book Review #19: Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier

It’s been a while.

Some time ago I wrote a post about how to motivate yourself to write when you really don’t want to. As you can tell by my months-long absence, I did not take my own advice. I would like to add a quick tip, though: Another great way to make yourself write when you don’t want to is to tell someone you have a blog that you update regularly. When you do this, you’ll likely scramble to finish the book you’re reading and write a post about it so that you don’t look like a complete schmuck. I can personally verify that this tip works!

Now, on the the review.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier is a well-known and well-regarded book that is often praised as a classic in the Gothic literature lexicon. This being the case, tell me why my college professor didn’t include it on our Gothic literature reading list? I think it’s a shame that I could have been forced to read this book at an earlier date yet instead was made to read Dracula by Braham Stoker for the millionth time.

Like du Maurier’s other Gothic classic, My Cousin Rachel, Rebecca is a slow-building novel that leads the reader in a circuitous route to the ending. The main character is a young woman who is whisked away by a rich older man in a seemingly romantic love story, until she becomes obsessed with the mystery of his first wife, Rebecca. As she uncovers more about this mysterious first wife, she learns Rebecca may not have been all she seemed, and that her husband may be hiding a great deal of information from her.

The premise of the book may seem a little cliche (although this is one of the books that started the trope of “mysterious first wife”), but one of du Maurier’s greatest talents is weaving an intriguing story based on a simple premise that leaves the reader guessing. For a large part of Rebecca, the reader can’t quite tell if there are strange circumstances afoot, or if those circumstances are simply the main character’s illusions. She creates really interesting unreliable narrators in that there isn’t anything physically wrong with them (i. e. they’re not unreliable due to drugs/alcohol, mental instability, or trauma). Instead, her unreliable narrators are unreliable because they’re often blinded by their own passions and naivete. In both My Cousin Rachel and Rebecca, the main characters (though vastly different as people) have a similar limited view of the world due to the circumstances in which they were raised.

This being the case, when they’re suddenly thrust into a fishy situation, they don’t have the awareness or background knowledge to tell for themselves if things are really strange, or if they’re just reading too much into the situation. This type of self-doubt creates a fascinating situation because the reader doesn’t know whether the character is right to to doubt themselves, and du Maurier does an excellent job making their doubt and uncertainty believable due to their background and upbringing. Because the narrator is genuinely unsure of their standing and situation, the reader is also unsure, and we’re just along for the ride as they attempt to unravel this mystery.

There are a few situations in Rebecca where this naivete can be frustrating for the reader, at least if you’re anything like me. The main character of Rebecca is consistently thrust into situations where she should stand up for herself, yet struggles to do so because of her background and general submissive qualities. While this can be frustrating to read (who likes to see a character be picked on and taken advantage of?), it makes the payoff much sweeter when she finally can look someone in the eye and put her foot down. Another one of du Maurier’s strong suits is showing rather than telling, and she does a great job showing how difficult it is for the main character to overcome class ideology, even after she’s married into an elevated class.

Other examples of this are when she relates more to her maid than to anyone else in the house since her maid comes from a similar class, and when she struggles to call on other people in her new class. Though she understands the etiquette that’s expected of her, she has no practice with it, and is wooden and uncomfortable in comparison to those who navigate these intricacies with ease.

Another great way du Maurier shows rather than tells is by not ever naming the main character. She is always referred to as “Mrs. de Winter” by others, and the story is written in first person POV so there is no outside narrator to give away her first or middle name. This is a deliberate choice as it aids in creating the illusion of the main character living in Rebecca’s (the first “Mrs. de Winter”) shadow. It is very apparent that the second Mrs. de Winter is filling in a role, rather than establishing herself in the home.

The narrator of Rebecca also embodies the struggle of many introverted people who exacerbate a situation in their head without confronting or discussing their issues with others. The main character has convinced herself that everyone is comparing her to Rebecca and is finding fault in everything she does, when the reality is that everyone who truly knew Rebecca also knew that she was not the kind person she presented outwardly. When the narrator finally is made aware of Rebecca’s true nature, she is able to accept herself and her position more readily. Had she asked about Rebecca initially, learning the truth much earlier on, she would have been able to avoid the despondency that came from comparing herself to someone else.

There are a lot of great lessons in the story about staying true to oneself and about searching for the truth of a matter rather than taking everything at face-value. When we can think for ourselves, and when we become unafraid to ask questions and seek the truth, we become more confident in our place in the world.

Aside from the engaging character development and strong themes, the overall plot of the story acts as a mysterious unraveling of the circumstances surrounding Rebecca’s death. My favorite aspect of du Maurier’s plots, as I’ve previously mentioned, is that it is really difficult to guess exactly where they’re going. Even if you have a hint or general idea of where things are headed, the nuance in the details can really change your perception of the story itself. I won’t give away what the surprises are in Rebecca, but just know that it probably isn’t what you’re expecting.

Overall, I think Rebecca is a great novel for those who enjoy Gothic literature with stellar writing, strong character development, and slowly unwinding mysteries. The book follows many conventions of the genre (including a satisfyingly unhappy ending), but there is a lot of uniqueness in du Maurier’s tone and writing that makes this a great stand alone novel. Du Maurier has quickly become one of my favorite author’s to read, and I wish she’d been able to write more in her lifetime. Definitely read it!

The Lit Wiz


Posted

in

by