Book Review: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
Rating: 5 stars of 5
This book is a mood. You have to read it. The way it has stuck with me since I finished reading it is astonishing. I keep thinking about it, and I’ve already decided I want to collect the rest of Daphne’s books so I can read those too. Rebecca has never been out of print and I can see why.
Right off the bat, I loved the prose. It’s sophisticated in a way that paints stunning pictures in your mind as you read, yet very readable. I loved these two descriptions in particular:
“Nettles were everywhere, the vanguard of the army. They choked the terrace, they sprawled about the paths, they leant, vulgar and lanky, against the very windows of the house. They made indifferent sentinels, for in many places their ranks had been broken by the rhubarb plant, and they lay with crumpled heads and listless stems, making a pathway for the rabbits. I left the drive and went on to the terrace, for the nettles were no barrier to me, a dreamer. I walked enchanted, and nothing held me back.” - a description of a scene from the protagonist’s dream
“Packing up. The nagging worry of departure. Lost keys, unwritten labels, tissue paper lying on the floor. I hate it all. Even now, when I have done so much of it, when I live, as the saying goes, in my boxes. Even today, when shutting drawers and flinging wide an hotel wardrobe, or the impersonal shelves of a furnished villa, is a methodical matter of routine, I am aware of sadness, of a sense of loss. Here, I say, we have lived, we have been happy. This has been ours, however brief the time. Though two nights only have been spent beneath a roof, yet we leave something of ourselves behind. Nothing material, not a hair-pin on a dressing-table, not an empty bottle of Aspirin tablets, not a handkerchief beneath a pillow, but something indefinable, a moment of our lives, a thought, a mood.
This house sheltered us, we spoke, we loved within those walls. That was yesterday. Today we pass on, we see it no more, and we are different, changed in some infinitesimal way. We can never be quite the same again.” – a scene when the protagonist is moving from one place to another
The overall tone of the book is so atmospheric. It gives off a slightly spooky vibe, and it feels as if we’re taking a slow walk down a forested lane with an unnamed protagonist (which in itself was an interesting and poignant choice on the author’s part) on a foggy day as she tells us about her story. We get to watch her go from being a naïve, optimistic young woman to someone who has had to figure out what has really been going on in her new home in ways that have obliterated any semblance of rose-colored glasses, then make decisions about her future. It can be harrowing at times, and we can’t help but feel concerned for her; to want her to stand up for and assert herself. Sometimes it can be frustrating that she hasn’t yet found her gumption, but it is satisfying in the moments when she does.
Though not a fast-paced, action-packed novel, it was gripping enough to keep me up past midnight reading it, and I found myself reaching for it over more modern novels many times. There’s a sense of tension that keeps pulling the reader in.
This is the first time I have read a book and then immediately wished I could go back and read it again for the first time. I highly recommend reading it without knowing much about the plot. Just jump in blind and see where the story takes you.
This book is haunting and beautifully done and though I questioned the ending at first, I now think it was the perfect way to conclude the story. I read it in October and can confirm that that timing was perfect, but if you have to choose between reading it now and reading it next October, read it now. It’s so good.
Content advisory: trigger warning for su*cidal ideation
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