Status
Available
Publication
Avon books (1997)
Description
The novel begins in Monte Carlo, where our heroine is swept off her feet by the dashing widower Maxim de Winter and his sudden proposal of marriage. Orphaned and working as a lady's maid, she can barely believe her luck. It is only when they arrive at his massive country estate that she realizes how large a shadow his late wife will cast over their lives--presenting her with a lingering evil that threatens to destroy their marriage from beyond the grave.
User reviews
LibraryThing member brenzi
There have probably been thousands of reviews done of the literary classic, Rebecca, since it was first published in 1938 so why does this reader feel the need to add to that number? Hasn’t everything that could be said about it, already been said? Well yes, probably. But after finishing the last
A naïve young woman, the narrator of the story, meets and marries a wealthy widower, Maxim de Winter, who owns an old English estate called Manderley, complete with a wide array of servants including Mrs. Danvers, a despicable woman who oversees all that transpires on the premises. The young bride, whose name is never revealed, has a difficult time adjusting to life at Manderley. Her husband shows her no affection and is distant and remote. She is cowed by Mrs. Danvers and intimidated by the other servants, who seem to consider her a child. Above all else, the first Mrs. De Winter, the lovely Rebecca, is an omnipotent presence, leaving her successor feeling unworthy, not fit for her new role at Manderley. Rebecca was beautiful, smart and successful according to everyone who knew her. There was nothing she couldn’t do and do well, making her drowning death in the nearby bay at such a young age, all the more heartbreaking. During the course of the story, the narrator gains some composure and is securing her role as mistress of the estate, overcoming the ever-present Rebecca, when tragedy strikes once more, and the lives of both Mr. and Mrs. de Winter and Manderley as a whole are affected.
DuMaurier has written a tale that is gripping, dark and full of atmosphere based on suspicion, fear and secrets right up until the last page.
The book is literally impossible to put down and the author’s ability to create mood and describe characters is unparalleled. When Maxim and the second Mrs. de Winter approach Manderley for the first time, the description of the drive leading to the main house is foreboding:
“The drive twisted and turned like a serpent, scarce wider in places than a path, and above our head was a great colonnade of trees, whose branches nodded and intermingled with one another, making an archway for us, like the roof of a church. Even the midday sun would not penetrate the interlacing of those green leaves, they were too thickly entwined, one with another, and only little flickering patches of warm light would come in the intermittent waves to dapple the drive with gold. It was very silent, very still.”
This is a wonderful story that has stood the test of time, from an author who was a true wordsmith and a crackerjack storyteller. Don’t wait as long as this reader did to delight in this narrative. Very highly recommended.
Show More
few pages there were two choices. Either go back to the beginning and read the whole book over again; it was that good. Or write about it; hence, this review.A naïve young woman, the narrator of the story, meets and marries a wealthy widower, Maxim de Winter, who owns an old English estate called Manderley, complete with a wide array of servants including Mrs. Danvers, a despicable woman who oversees all that transpires on the premises. The young bride, whose name is never revealed, has a difficult time adjusting to life at Manderley. Her husband shows her no affection and is distant and remote. She is cowed by Mrs. Danvers and intimidated by the other servants, who seem to consider her a child. Above all else, the first Mrs. De Winter, the lovely Rebecca, is an omnipotent presence, leaving her successor feeling unworthy, not fit for her new role at Manderley. Rebecca was beautiful, smart and successful according to everyone who knew her. There was nothing she couldn’t do and do well, making her drowning death in the nearby bay at such a young age, all the more heartbreaking. During the course of the story, the narrator gains some composure and is securing her role as mistress of the estate, overcoming the ever-present Rebecca, when tragedy strikes once more, and the lives of both Mr. and Mrs. de Winter and Manderley as a whole are affected.
DuMaurier has written a tale that is gripping, dark and full of atmosphere based on suspicion, fear and secrets right up until the last page.
The book is literally impossible to put down and the author’s ability to create mood and describe characters is unparalleled. When Maxim and the second Mrs. de Winter approach Manderley for the first time, the description of the drive leading to the main house is foreboding:
“The drive twisted and turned like a serpent, scarce wider in places than a path, and above our head was a great colonnade of trees, whose branches nodded and intermingled with one another, making an archway for us, like the roof of a church. Even the midday sun would not penetrate the interlacing of those green leaves, they were too thickly entwined, one with another, and only little flickering patches of warm light would come in the intermittent waves to dapple the drive with gold. It was very silent, very still.”
This is a wonderful story that has stood the test of time, from an author who was a true wordsmith and a crackerjack storyteller. Don’t wait as long as this reader did to delight in this narrative. Very highly recommended.
Show Less
LibraryThing member lauralkeet
I have on occasion admitted to bookish friends that I have not read Rebecca, and this admission is usually met with a wide-eyed, open-mouthed look of astonishment. I'm not sure how this book passed me by, either -- I blame my education, which was sorely lacking in the classics. But never mind all
Rebecca is a gothic romance mystery that wanders around rather slowly during the first half, and then takes off on a suspenseful ride. A young woman is employed as companion to a much older woman, and when they are on holiday in Monte Carlo they meet Maxim de Winter. Maxim is grieving over the loss of his wife, Rebecca, nearly a year before. He and the young woman strike up a relationship, which rapidly leads to her becoming "the second Mrs. de Winter" (the story is told in the first person and the reader never learns her first name). The second Mrs. de Winter is much younger than Maxim, and very shy. She is uncomfortable asking any questions about Rebecca; even mentioning her name feels taboo. On returning to Manderley, de Winter's Cornwall estate, the second Mrs. de Winter is haunted by Rebecca's presence in the house. The servants still plan menus and maintain the house according to Rebecca's wishes. Maxim is rather distant, and his second wife spends far too much time second-guessing him. She also allows herself to be bullied and tormented by Mrs. Danvers, the head housekeeper, who has found it particularly difficult to accept a new lady in the house.
For the entire first half of this book the second Mrs. de Winter struggles to gain her footing in the household and in her marriage, while steadfastly refusing to take any personal action to help her own situation. That was a bit frustrating; I wanted to shake some sense into her! But then two events -- a ball at Manderley, and a ship moored in the local harbor -- set in motion a series of twists and turns that had me sneaking peeks at this book during every spare moment. Suddenly every character was suspect, and just as I thought conflicts were being resolved, more problems would present themselves. The characters were wonderfully drawn, especially the creepy Mrs. Danvers, so bent on preserving a long-gone status quo, and Rebecca, who never actually appears in the novel but still holds tremendous sway over all. Throw in a red herring or two and you have a classic tale that's not to be missed.
Show More
that, I have now corrected this egregious oversight. And I enjoyed every word!Rebecca is a gothic romance mystery that wanders around rather slowly during the first half, and then takes off on a suspenseful ride. A young woman is employed as companion to a much older woman, and when they are on holiday in Monte Carlo they meet Maxim de Winter. Maxim is grieving over the loss of his wife, Rebecca, nearly a year before. He and the young woman strike up a relationship, which rapidly leads to her becoming "the second Mrs. de Winter" (the story is told in the first person and the reader never learns her first name). The second Mrs. de Winter is much younger than Maxim, and very shy. She is uncomfortable asking any questions about Rebecca; even mentioning her name feels taboo. On returning to Manderley, de Winter's Cornwall estate, the second Mrs. de Winter is haunted by Rebecca's presence in the house. The servants still plan menus and maintain the house according to Rebecca's wishes. Maxim is rather distant, and his second wife spends far too much time second-guessing him. She also allows herself to be bullied and tormented by Mrs. Danvers, the head housekeeper, who has found it particularly difficult to accept a new lady in the house.
For the entire first half of this book the second Mrs. de Winter struggles to gain her footing in the household and in her marriage, while steadfastly refusing to take any personal action to help her own situation. That was a bit frustrating; I wanted to shake some sense into her! But then two events -- a ball at Manderley, and a ship moored in the local harbor -- set in motion a series of twists and turns that had me sneaking peeks at this book during every spare moment. Suddenly every character was suspect, and just as I thought conflicts were being resolved, more problems would present themselves. The characters were wonderfully drawn, especially the creepy Mrs. Danvers, so bent on preserving a long-gone status quo, and Rebecca, who never actually appears in the novel but still holds tremendous sway over all. Throw in a red herring or two and you have a classic tale that's not to be missed.
Show Less
LibraryThing member -Cee-
If you want to read a well written classic without struggling to understand the politics of the past, this is the book for you. If you have read a few too many dark or dense books, read this one and take the time to smell the ocean breezes , the dark dampness of the woods, the roses and azaleas,
Here is a Cinderella story (with a twist) that crashed and burned. The main character, who is the narrator, has a wistful imagination fabricating and intertwining many scenes and events in her mind - supposed to happen but sadly never do. Her prince has swept her away, but her life is filled with dread and a crushing self image. Other characters are uncomplicated, traditional and steadfast. The dead title character, Rebecca, from her grave and her close companion still living wreak havoc in a world of long-standing English tradition. It all adds up to struggling relationships, mystery, and loyalties that do not die under excruciating stress.
While the ending is not cut from standard fairy tale fabric, it’s the only possible one that seems to make sense. All in all, it was sadly satisfying. Recommended for the romantic at heart.
Show More
the mustiness of an elegant old mansion, and the fearful, hot airless summer days. Wallow in the abundance of the upper class riches and leisure – brought down a peg or two.Here is a Cinderella story (with a twist) that crashed and burned. The main character, who is the narrator, has a wistful imagination fabricating and intertwining many scenes and events in her mind - supposed to happen but sadly never do. Her prince has swept her away, but her life is filled with dread and a crushing self image. Other characters are uncomplicated, traditional and steadfast. The dead title character, Rebecca, from her grave and her close companion still living wreak havoc in a world of long-standing English tradition. It all adds up to struggling relationships, mystery, and loyalties that do not die under excruciating stress.
While the ending is not cut from standard fairy tale fabric, it’s the only possible one that seems to make sense. All in all, it was sadly satisfying. Recommended for the romantic at heart.
Show Less
LibraryThing member atimco
If you haven't read the book or seen the film, I recommend that you avoid this review because it contains spoilers.
Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca has long been a favorite of mine, though I haven't reread for some time. The psychological drama and well-drawn characters make it one of the more
The story is told in the first person by Maxim de Winter's second wife. She met him at Monte Carlo, where he had fled to escape the memories of his first wife, Rebecca, who had died ten months before. From the first, Rebecca overshadows everything in the story like an ominous cloud. It's striking that we never learn the name of our narrator, though we are told that Maxim calls it "lovely and unusual," and spells it properly (which we are told is rare). No, the name Rebecca blots it out, even standing over the whole work as its title. When the second Mrs. de Winter comes to the family's ancestral home, Manderley, she is beset by the ghosts of the past. Rebecca sat in this chair; Rebecca wielded this pen. Everything is kept just as the beautiful, vivacious, brilliant Rebecca had ordered it. And the second Mrs. de Winter is so shy and diffident, she cannot grapple with these shadows. She is convinced that her husband still loves Rebecca, and that she can never win his heart as completely as he has won hers.
We follow the second Mrs. de Winter through the first four months of their marriage, through days of peacefulness edged by something bitter, through the beautiful grounds of Manderley, and the strange wild beauty of the sea. With her, we piece together the bits of the past that Maxim never speaks of, from conversations with other people. Why does everyone tiptoe around the memory of Rebecca?
Manderley, in the end, had to burn. We are constantly told how lovely it was, and it truly sounds like a heavenly place... but then Maxim tells his wife that it was all Rebecca's doing, that her incredible taste and energy made it into the showpiece of the county and laid out those perfect gardens, furnished each room meticulously, guided each element of the decorations. For Maxim and his new wife to start over, the old life must be destroyed. But for Maxim, it is as if part of himself was burned away.
The burning house motif at the end of a story of passions is not unique; both Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre (1847) and Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind (1936) use it. There are other similarities as well. Both Rebecca and Jane Eyre are told in the first person, and their relationships with the leading men (Maxim de Winter and Mr. Rochester, respectively) are similar. But unlike Jane Eyre, it is not the heroine in Rebecca but the villainess whose name is on the book's cover. In both stories the shadow of the hero's first wife poisons the relationship between himself and the young female narrator. In Rochester's case, the wife is a madwoman locked at the top of the house. At Manderley, the wife is physically dead, but her reach extends from beyond the grave. Neither Rochester nor Maxim is entirely innocent, either, when it comes to his first wife.
I have not read Gone With the Wind, so my comparisons between it and Rebecca may seem clumsy. I was struck by du Maurier's use of the phrase "gone with the wind" and her focus on a main female character who is a villainess. I don't know if it was deliberate; I would have to read Mitchell's book to compare them properly, but perhaps the other similarities will occur to those who have read both works. Rebecca was published in 1938, two years after Gone With the Wind appeared.
I don't think anyone can equal du Maurier's ability to conjure an atmosphere. The first chapter, which tells of a dream the narrator has about an overgrown and wild Manderley, is an extravagant display of the author's prodigious skill. Every line is poetic, and produces a vivid picture in the mind. As I listened to Massey reading it, I thought I would be content to hear it for hours. The narrator's observations about the people around her are also incisive and telling. Every character is perfectly believable and convincing. You feel as if the story could really have happened.
I would like to praise again Anna Massey's perfect reading of this story. It is unabridged, of course, but it never once lagged. Massey does a wonderful job with the voices for the different characters, switching quickly between them in the dialogue, and at times I forgot all about Massey because I was so absorbed in the pictures she was creating in my mind. They couldn't have chosen a better actress for the part. I believe she also played Mrs. Danvers in the 1970s BBC miniseries of Rebecca, though I have not seen it myself.
The film starring Laurence Olivier and Joan Fontaine is quite good, though they switched certain things around. The biggest change they made was how Rebecca died. I don't want to get too spoilery here, but I wish they had the courage to keep it as it happened in the book. It's a crucial point. I understand that this was fudged because of the Hayes Code that governed film plots back then. A murderer could not get away with murder; he had to be punished. The characters themselves were quite faithful to the original story, and most of the events too.
The more recent iTV adaptation is enjoyable, but has some big flaws. Emilia Fox is great as the second Mrs. de Winter, but they made her too assertive. Some of the scenes were clumsily written, and they should not have cast a real actress to play Rebecca in the flashbacks! They were coy and never showed her full face, but it was still a mistake. I wasn't really a fan of Charles Dance's unremarkable Maxim de Winter, or how they made Mrs. Van Hopper slinkily coarse rather than disgustingly so. And the general feel of this script did not have that sense of impending doom that the Hitchcock film captured so well.
Overall, I cannot recommend this book (and the audiobook) enough. The mystery is really well-done, and the narrator keeps you fascinated with the events and characters. If you like mysteries and suspense, you simply must try Rebecca. You will remember it long afterwards; I remember it as one of my very first forays into adult fiction, and it gripped me. Highly recommended.
Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca has long been a favorite of mine, though I haven't reread for some time. The psychological drama and well-drawn characters make it one of the more
Show More
memorable and suspenseful books I've ever read. This time I listened to the audiobook read by Anna Massey. As I said, I've read the book before and have also seen the old movie with Laurence Olivier, so I wasn't sure the audiobook would hold my attention. Well, after one hour I was completely sucked in by the perfect prose and sensitive reading! There is something about hearing a book read that brings out the poetry of the language — something I may not fully appreciate when reading at my usual breakneck pace. The story is told in the first person by Maxim de Winter's second wife. She met him at Monte Carlo, where he had fled to escape the memories of his first wife, Rebecca, who had died ten months before. From the first, Rebecca overshadows everything in the story like an ominous cloud. It's striking that we never learn the name of our narrator, though we are told that Maxim calls it "lovely and unusual," and spells it properly (which we are told is rare). No, the name Rebecca blots it out, even standing over the whole work as its title. When the second Mrs. de Winter comes to the family's ancestral home, Manderley, she is beset by the ghosts of the past. Rebecca sat in this chair; Rebecca wielded this pen. Everything is kept just as the beautiful, vivacious, brilliant Rebecca had ordered it. And the second Mrs. de Winter is so shy and diffident, she cannot grapple with these shadows. She is convinced that her husband still loves Rebecca, and that she can never win his heart as completely as he has won hers.
We follow the second Mrs. de Winter through the first four months of their marriage, through days of peacefulness edged by something bitter, through the beautiful grounds of Manderley, and the strange wild beauty of the sea. With her, we piece together the bits of the past that Maxim never speaks of, from conversations with other people. Why does everyone tiptoe around the memory of Rebecca?
Manderley, in the end, had to burn. We are constantly told how lovely it was, and it truly sounds like a heavenly place... but then Maxim tells his wife that it was all Rebecca's doing, that her incredible taste and energy made it into the showpiece of the county and laid out those perfect gardens, furnished each room meticulously, guided each element of the decorations. For Maxim and his new wife to start over, the old life must be destroyed. But for Maxim, it is as if part of himself was burned away.
The burning house motif at the end of a story of passions is not unique; both Charlotte Bronte's Jane Eyre (1847) and Margaret Mitchell's Gone With the Wind (1936) use it. There are other similarities as well. Both Rebecca and Jane Eyre are told in the first person, and their relationships with the leading men (Maxim de Winter and Mr. Rochester, respectively) are similar. But unlike Jane Eyre, it is not the heroine in Rebecca but the villainess whose name is on the book's cover. In both stories the shadow of the hero's first wife poisons the relationship between himself and the young female narrator. In Rochester's case, the wife is a madwoman locked at the top of the house. At Manderley, the wife is physically dead, but her reach extends from beyond the grave. Neither Rochester nor Maxim is entirely innocent, either, when it comes to his first wife.
I have not read Gone With the Wind, so my comparisons between it and Rebecca may seem clumsy. I was struck by du Maurier's use of the phrase "gone with the wind" and her focus on a main female character who is a villainess. I don't know if it was deliberate; I would have to read Mitchell's book to compare them properly, but perhaps the other similarities will occur to those who have read both works. Rebecca was published in 1938, two years after Gone With the Wind appeared.
I don't think anyone can equal du Maurier's ability to conjure an atmosphere. The first chapter, which tells of a dream the narrator has about an overgrown and wild Manderley, is an extravagant display of the author's prodigious skill. Every line is poetic, and produces a vivid picture in the mind. As I listened to Massey reading it, I thought I would be content to hear it for hours. The narrator's observations about the people around her are also incisive and telling. Every character is perfectly believable and convincing. You feel as if the story could really have happened.
I would like to praise again Anna Massey's perfect reading of this story. It is unabridged, of course, but it never once lagged. Massey does a wonderful job with the voices for the different characters, switching quickly between them in the dialogue, and at times I forgot all about Massey because I was so absorbed in the pictures she was creating in my mind. They couldn't have chosen a better actress for the part. I believe she also played Mrs. Danvers in the 1970s BBC miniseries of Rebecca, though I have not seen it myself.
The film starring Laurence Olivier and Joan Fontaine is quite good, though they switched certain things around. The biggest change they made was how Rebecca died. I don't want to get too spoilery here, but I wish they had the courage to keep it as it happened in the book. It's a crucial point. I understand that this was fudged because of the Hayes Code that governed film plots back then. A murderer could not get away with murder; he had to be punished. The characters themselves were quite faithful to the original story, and most of the events too.
The more recent iTV adaptation is enjoyable, but has some big flaws. Emilia Fox is great as the second Mrs. de Winter, but they made her too assertive. Some of the scenes were clumsily written, and they should not have cast a real actress to play Rebecca in the flashbacks! They were coy and never showed her full face, but it was still a mistake. I wasn't really a fan of Charles Dance's unremarkable Maxim de Winter, or how they made Mrs. Van Hopper slinkily coarse rather than disgustingly so. And the general feel of this script did not have that sense of impending doom that the Hitchcock film captured so well.
Overall, I cannot recommend this book (and the audiobook) enough. The mystery is really well-done, and the narrator keeps you fascinated with the events and characters. If you like mysteries and suspense, you simply must try Rebecca. You will remember it long afterwards; I remember it as one of my very first forays into adult fiction, and it gripped me. Highly recommended.
Show Less
LibraryThing member A_musing
"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again." This book opens with a big prose hot fudge Sunday, a toasty warm and sweetly cool confection. Tasty little ts punctuate that first sentence, tripping along, drawing us into the book and into the painterly opening images of the hauntingly beautiful
Rebecca is a classic to both readers and moviegoers, and reading the book one quickly sees what drew Hitchcock in: the perfect pacing, the near-purple (puce?) prose, the characters who appear so expected yet, perhaps, are not, and, most of all, the questions and mystery left. Rebecca never appears in the book yet haunts every page and thought. One might read her into the shrubbery or the room decor, or find her long-gone spirit animating the otherwise dour Danny, or see her just beyond the margins, somehow manipulating the actual characters of the novel from out there.
The whole thing is simply a great show.
Show More
Manderley estate. We are drawn in to a plot that then smoothly pulls us along, slowly building the tension. The world of Manderley is a world that is too perfect seen through a narrator who is not perfect enough, and somewhere between the perfection and the failings, carefully laid out, we find the pace starts to quicken and the tension builds. Suddenly, with a quick twist, a volta if you will, that world changes, day becomes night, and we must rethink everything. The pacing is masterful, and one of the great pleasures of the book is just letting the words just take you along for the ride.Rebecca is a classic to both readers and moviegoers, and reading the book one quickly sees what drew Hitchcock in: the perfect pacing, the near-purple (puce?) prose, the characters who appear so expected yet, perhaps, are not, and, most of all, the questions and mystery left. Rebecca never appears in the book yet haunts every page and thought. One might read her into the shrubbery or the room decor, or find her long-gone spirit animating the otherwise dour Danny, or see her just beyond the margins, somehow manipulating the actual characters of the novel from out there.
The whole thing is simply a great show.
Show Less
LibraryThing member miss_read
This book affected me so differently this time around from the way it did when I read it last as a teenager. Back then, I was so caught up in the story, the narrative and the what-will-happen-next-ness of it all, that I think I missed out on du Maurier's fantastic writing. I think I've seen her
I don't think there's any need for a plot synopsis here, as nearly everyone has either read the book or seen the film.
Three things in particular struck me about Rebecca.
(1) Reading the book as an adult, I found I had little patience for the character of the second Mrs. de Winter. When I was younger, I saw her as a sympathetic character, one to whom I could relate and pity. But this time, I just wanted to give her a good slap and tell her stop being such a wet thing. She could have given Mrs. Danvers the sack immediately, instead she cowered and hid behind doors, too scared to even make her presence known. Wet. Rebecca herself may have had a cruel streak, but at least she had some character. She was vibrant, strong and would never have been scared of a servant. Of the two women, I found that I liked Rebecca much more.
(2) The theme of jealousy and, in particular, sexual jealousy is a strong one. I recently found out that Daphne du Maurier's husband, Major General Sir Frederick Browning, had been engaged prior to marrying du Maurier. His fiancee, who died in an accident, had been beautiful and glamorous. I can't help but think this affected du Maurier. She must have felt, on some level, as Mrs. de Winter did. The feelings du Maurier had for her father, Gerald du Maurier, were also a bit complicated. I know she worshiped her father, and felt much closer to him than she did to her sophisticated socialite mother. Was there an element of jealousy at work there as well? A feeling of inadequacy and of competition with women more glamorous than du Maurier could ever have been? I was also recently sent a link to a Guardian article about Daphne du Maurier. The article discusses du Maurier's relationship with her father, and it claims he once said he wished he could be reborn as her son. The article also mentions du Maurier's bisexuality, and discusses her relationship with Ellen Doubleday, the wife of her American publisher. Du Maurier is recorded as once saying that she wished she could be Ellen's child. In Rebecca, there are a few similar instances. At one point, Mrs. de Winter says that she'd like Maxim to be her father, her brother and her lover. In another passage, she says that she'd like to be his mother. Freud would have had a field-day with Daphne du Maurier.
(3) It's generally acknowledged that Manderley is as important a character in Rebecca as is Rebecca is herself. But, in particular, I think it's the plants, flowers and trees of Manderley that play the crucial role and give the novel its haunting atmosphere. Du Maurier talks of the trees as being "stealthy" and "insidious," and mentions their "long tenacious fingers." The rhododendrons are given even more human characteristics: "... they had entered into alien marriage with a host of nameless shrubs, poor, bastard things that clung about their roots as though conscious of their spurious origin."
Show More
more as a good storyteller, rather than as a good writer, and that's doing her a great disservice.I don't think there's any need for a plot synopsis here, as nearly everyone has either read the book or seen the film.
Three things in particular struck me about Rebecca.
(1) Reading the book as an adult, I found I had little patience for the character of the second Mrs. de Winter. When I was younger, I saw her as a sympathetic character, one to whom I could relate and pity. But this time, I just wanted to give her a good slap and tell her stop being such a wet thing. She could have given Mrs. Danvers the sack immediately, instead she cowered and hid behind doors, too scared to even make her presence known. Wet. Rebecca herself may have had a cruel streak, but at least she had some character. She was vibrant, strong and would never have been scared of a servant. Of the two women, I found that I liked Rebecca much more.
(2) The theme of jealousy and, in particular, sexual jealousy is a strong one. I recently found out that Daphne du Maurier's husband, Major General Sir Frederick Browning, had been engaged prior to marrying du Maurier. His fiancee, who died in an accident, had been beautiful and glamorous. I can't help but think this affected du Maurier. She must have felt, on some level, as Mrs. de Winter did. The feelings du Maurier had for her father, Gerald du Maurier, were also a bit complicated. I know she worshiped her father, and felt much closer to him than she did to her sophisticated socialite mother. Was there an element of jealousy at work there as well? A feeling of inadequacy and of competition with women more glamorous than du Maurier could ever have been? I was also recently sent a link to a Guardian article about Daphne du Maurier. The article discusses du Maurier's relationship with her father, and it claims he once said he wished he could be reborn as her son. The article also mentions du Maurier's bisexuality, and discusses her relationship with Ellen Doubleday, the wife of her American publisher. Du Maurier is recorded as once saying that she wished she could be Ellen's child. In Rebecca, there are a few similar instances. At one point, Mrs. de Winter says that she'd like Maxim to be her father, her brother and her lover. In another passage, she says that she'd like to be his mother. Freud would have had a field-day with Daphne du Maurier.
(3) It's generally acknowledged that Manderley is as important a character in Rebecca as is Rebecca is herself. But, in particular, I think it's the plants, flowers and trees of Manderley that play the crucial role and give the novel its haunting atmosphere. Du Maurier talks of the trees as being "stealthy" and "insidious," and mentions their "long tenacious fingers." The rhododendrons are given even more human characteristics: "... they had entered into alien marriage with a host of nameless shrubs, poor, bastard things that clung about their roots as though conscious of their spurious origin."
Show Less
LibraryThing member Jenners26
WHAT is this book about?
Although I doubt I need to recount the plot as I’m probably one of the few people who hadn’t read this book before 2010, I’ll write it like an equation:
A big house + A young new wife + A rich but distant husband ÷ A dead wife X A sinister housekeeper = A wonderfully
WHO do we meet?
* The second Mrs. DeWinter is a naive, innocent young woman who is working as a companion for an insufferably snobby woman when she meets ….
* Maximilian DeWinter, a wealthy older man who is vacationing in Monte Carlo. He seems tortured by something, and the rumors are that he’s never been able to get over the death of his first wife…
* Rebecca, a gorgeous, spirited free-spirit who seemed to charm everyone around her. However, her life was cut short after she drowned tragically in the sea that borders …
* Manderley, the huge country estate owned by Max DeWinter. This is where the second Mrs. DeWinter and Max live after their quickie wedding and honeymoon. But poor Mrs. DeWinter! She is so young and has no experience running a big household like Manderley. Good thing she has the help of…
* Mrs. Danvers, the housekeeper who seems abnormally devoted to the first Mrs. DeWinter.
WHEN and WHERE does the book take place?
The story takes place primarily at Manderley. I believe the time frame is the late 1930s when DuMaurier wrote the book.
WHY should you read this book?
Well, I suspect you already have! I’m the latecomer to this party. When I posted my list of RIP books, almost everyone commented about how much they loved Rebecca. I loved it too! It is one of the few “classics” that really lived up to the hype. DuMaurier does a fantastic job of slowly building up the dread and suspense. You get inside the second Mrs. DeWinter’s mind and you just squirm and feel this sense of impending doom. Everywhere she goes, it is Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca. And she is so innocent and trusting that she bumbles along getting herself deeper and deeper enmeshed in the secrets of Manderley. I read somewhere when I was Googling around for the images used above, that Rebecca is really more of a psychological haunting than a physical haunting, and I thought that was a fantastic description. If, like me, you bypassed this book for all these years, be sure to rectify this. You’ll be glad you did! (And I’m so going to check out the Hitchcock movie version!)
Although I doubt I need to recount the plot as I’m probably one of the few people who hadn’t read this book before 2010, I’ll write it like an equation:
A big house + A young new wife + A rich but distant husband ÷ A dead wife X A sinister housekeeper = A wonderfully
Show More
creepy story of misunderstandings, secrets and murrrrddddeeeer.WHO do we meet?
* The second Mrs. DeWinter is a naive, innocent young woman who is working as a companion for an insufferably snobby woman when she meets ….
* Maximilian DeWinter, a wealthy older man who is vacationing in Monte Carlo. He seems tortured by something, and the rumors are that he’s never been able to get over the death of his first wife…
* Rebecca, a gorgeous, spirited free-spirit who seemed to charm everyone around her. However, her life was cut short after she drowned tragically in the sea that borders …
* Manderley, the huge country estate owned by Max DeWinter. This is where the second Mrs. DeWinter and Max live after their quickie wedding and honeymoon. But poor Mrs. DeWinter! She is so young and has no experience running a big household like Manderley. Good thing she has the help of…
* Mrs. Danvers, the housekeeper who seems abnormally devoted to the first Mrs. DeWinter.
WHEN and WHERE does the book take place?
The story takes place primarily at Manderley. I believe the time frame is the late 1930s when DuMaurier wrote the book.
WHY should you read this book?
Well, I suspect you already have! I’m the latecomer to this party. When I posted my list of RIP books, almost everyone commented about how much they loved Rebecca. I loved it too! It is one of the few “classics” that really lived up to the hype. DuMaurier does a fantastic job of slowly building up the dread and suspense. You get inside the second Mrs. DeWinter’s mind and you just squirm and feel this sense of impending doom. Everywhere she goes, it is Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca. And she is so innocent and trusting that she bumbles along getting herself deeper and deeper enmeshed in the secrets of Manderley. I read somewhere when I was Googling around for the images used above, that Rebecca is really more of a psychological haunting than a physical haunting, and I thought that was a fantastic description. If, like me, you bypassed this book for all these years, be sure to rectify this. You’ll be glad you did! (And I’m so going to check out the Hitchcock movie version!)
Show Less
LibraryThing member TheAmpersand
When a book whose prose isn't exactly sterling stays popular for seventy or eighty years, as "Rebecca" has, you kind of want to know why. An afterword in my edition of "Rebecca attempts to answer precisely this question. I'm not, not going to propose a definitive answer, but I've got my own ideas
As for the rest of it, eh. The most interesting thing "Rebecca" -- to me, anyway -- is that it managed to give us a fairly complete study of its title character even though she's quite dead before the novel even begins. She's much more interesting than our narrator and maintains a firm hold on the imagination of everyone in the novel. Du Maurier, it might be said, knows how to work in this negative storytelling space and exploits it to its maximum potential. There's also an interesting portrait of a couple seemingly unconcerned with gender roles as they existed in the mid-thirties: Beatrice, Maxim's direct, forceful, and well-meaning sister, and her husband Giles, who goes in for charades and costume parties. And there's distinguished, considerate, and impeccably tasteful Maxim, who reminded me a bit of Raul Julia's Gomez Adams, minus the jokes and the spooky stuff. And there's Manderly, an exquisite place that I mostly read as wish-fulfillment, though I rather enjoyed its imagined gothic afterlife which is presented in the novel's first few pages. But the novel's plot, though well constructed, takes too long to get where it's going and whose revelations are mostly scandal-sheet stuff. And, finally, there's Rebecca herself. You could say without fear of being contradicted that Rebecca and the narrator offer contrasting visions of femininity, but I think that there's more to it than that. I'd argue that the novel has stuck with a lot of its women readers because its narrator feels so outmatched by the beautiful, glamorous, and enchanting Rebecca and is self-aware enough to admit it. There's something hard to believe about Rebecca, of course: you can't imagine her actually appearing in the flesh here. But any woman who's felt they were going up against a formidable female rival in their own life can probably relate to our very young, very green narrator. I'd venture that that's why the book's managed to maintain its popularity.
Frankly, I don't feel that this is a great novel, or even a particularly good one. But it's not terrible, and it seems to have reached an audience in a powerful way, and that's something, too.
Show More
about that. I think that Daphne Du Maurier knew exactly what Stephenie Meyer knew when she wrote the "Twilight" series sixty or so years later: relatively undefined lead characters are often easier to identify with than characters who come laden with too much history or a strong personality of their own. This novel's unnamed protagonist admits that she's the rather inexperienced product of a second-rate girls' prep school, and while she displays a knack for wry observation, there's not really much to her. "Rebecca" serves both as a fantasy trip to the realm of the rich and distinguished and as a coming-of-age story. It's not hard to see why that would appeal to some readers. She is, admittedly, aware of her personal growth, saying during her fateful trip into Monte Carlo with Maxim, "I'd never felt so young and so old." It's a sentiment that a lot of people who've survived a difficult growing-up could probably relate to. As for the rest of it, eh. The most interesting thing "Rebecca" -- to me, anyway -- is that it managed to give us a fairly complete study of its title character even though she's quite dead before the novel even begins. She's much more interesting than our narrator and maintains a firm hold on the imagination of everyone in the novel. Du Maurier, it might be said, knows how to work in this negative storytelling space and exploits it to its maximum potential. There's also an interesting portrait of a couple seemingly unconcerned with gender roles as they existed in the mid-thirties: Beatrice, Maxim's direct, forceful, and well-meaning sister, and her husband Giles, who goes in for charades and costume parties. And there's distinguished, considerate, and impeccably tasteful Maxim, who reminded me a bit of Raul Julia's Gomez Adams, minus the jokes and the spooky stuff. And there's Manderly, an exquisite place that I mostly read as wish-fulfillment, though I rather enjoyed its imagined gothic afterlife which is presented in the novel's first few pages. But the novel's plot, though well constructed, takes too long to get where it's going and whose revelations are mostly scandal-sheet stuff. And, finally, there's Rebecca herself. You could say without fear of being contradicted that Rebecca and the narrator offer contrasting visions of femininity, but I think that there's more to it than that. I'd argue that the novel has stuck with a lot of its women readers because its narrator feels so outmatched by the beautiful, glamorous, and enchanting Rebecca and is self-aware enough to admit it. There's something hard to believe about Rebecca, of course: you can't imagine her actually appearing in the flesh here. But any woman who's felt they were going up against a formidable female rival in their own life can probably relate to our very young, very green narrator. I'd venture that that's why the book's managed to maintain its popularity.
Frankly, I don't feel that this is a great novel, or even a particularly good one. But it's not terrible, and it seems to have reached an audience in a powerful way, and that's something, too.
Show Less
LibraryThing member gbill
One of the main strengths of Rebecca (1938) is how memorable its characters are. At the outset this includes the naïve young narrator who (somewhat remarkably) remains unnamed throughout the book, Mrs. Van Hopper, her overbearing employer, and Maxim, a middle-aged man trying to escape the demons
The past is an enigma that gradually unfolds, and Du Maurier creates a wonderful “feel” for the book in setting it primarily at Manderley mansion. It’s a place of beauty but also foreboding; the narrator steps into it with trepidation for being much younger than her husband, and then struggles to cope with trying to replace his magnetic first wife. There are times when you’ll grit your teeth as she’s used and taken advantage of, yet doesn’t have the confidence to assert herself.
The writing sometimes borders on being overdone (for example, at the beginning), but this is a book that is entertaining throughout, and it’s easy to see why it was snapped up and made into a movie by Alfred Hitchcock.
Quotes follow; these are not all that representative of the style of writing or the plot, but are little snippets I found interesting.
On dogs:
“Why did dogs make one want to cry? There was something so quiet and hopeless about their sympathy. Jasper, knowing something was wrong, as dogs always do.”
On first love:
“I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden too, whatever the poets may say. They are not brave, the days when we are twenty-one. They are full of little cowardices, little fears without foundation, and one is so easily bruised, so swiftly wounded, one falls to the first barbed word. To-day, wrapped in the complacent armour of approaching middle age, the infinitesimal pricks of day by day brush one lightly and are soon forgotten, but then – how a careless word would linger, becoming a fiery stigma, and how a look, a glance over a shoulder, branded themselves as things eternal.”
On memory, and trying to freeze the present:
“All I remember is the feel of the leather seats, the texture of the map upon my knee, its frayed edges, its worn seams, and how one day, looking at the clock, I thought to myself, ‘This moment now, at twenty past eleven, this must never be lost,’ and I shut my eyes to make the experience more lasting. When I opened my eyes we were by a bend in the road, and a peasant girl in a black shawl waved to us; I can see her now, her dusty skirt, her gleaming, friendly smile, and in a second we had passed the end and could see her no more. Already she belonged to the past, she was only a memory.”
And:
“I wanted to go on sitting there, not talking, not listening to the others, keeping the moment precious for all time, because we were peaceful all of us, we were content and drowsy even as the bee who droned above our heads. In a little while it would be different, there would come to-morrow, and the next day, and another year. And we would be changed perhaps, never sitting quite like this again. Some of us would go away, or suffer, or die, the future stretched away in front of us, unknown, unseen, not perhaps what we wanted, not what we planned. This moment was safe though, this could not be touched.”
On old age:
“Her husband had been dead for forty years, her son for fifteen. She had to live here in this bright, red-gabled house with the nurse until it was time for her to die. I thought of how little we know about the feelings of old people. Children we understand, their fears and hopes and make-believe. I was a child yesterday. I had not forgotten. But Maxim’s grandmother, sitting there in her shawl with her poor blind eye’s, what did she feel, what was she thinking? Did she guess that we had come to visit her because we felt it right, it was a duty, so that when she got home afterwards Beatrice would be able to say, ‘Well, that clears my conscience for three months.’”
Show More
of his past. As the plot progresses we meet the evil maid Mrs. Danvers, Favell, a seriously creepy relation, and increasingly come to know Rebecca, who is gone but remains in the minds of all. The past is an enigma that gradually unfolds, and Du Maurier creates a wonderful “feel” for the book in setting it primarily at Manderley mansion. It’s a place of beauty but also foreboding; the narrator steps into it with trepidation for being much younger than her husband, and then struggles to cope with trying to replace his magnetic first wife. There are times when you’ll grit your teeth as she’s used and taken advantage of, yet doesn’t have the confidence to assert herself.
The writing sometimes borders on being overdone (for example, at the beginning), but this is a book that is entertaining throughout, and it’s easy to see why it was snapped up and made into a movie by Alfred Hitchcock.
Quotes follow; these are not all that representative of the style of writing or the plot, but are little snippets I found interesting.
On dogs:
“Why did dogs make one want to cry? There was something so quiet and hopeless about their sympathy. Jasper, knowing something was wrong, as dogs always do.”
On first love:
“I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden too, whatever the poets may say. They are not brave, the days when we are twenty-one. They are full of little cowardices, little fears without foundation, and one is so easily bruised, so swiftly wounded, one falls to the first barbed word. To-day, wrapped in the complacent armour of approaching middle age, the infinitesimal pricks of day by day brush one lightly and are soon forgotten, but then – how a careless word would linger, becoming a fiery stigma, and how a look, a glance over a shoulder, branded themselves as things eternal.”
On memory, and trying to freeze the present:
“All I remember is the feel of the leather seats, the texture of the map upon my knee, its frayed edges, its worn seams, and how one day, looking at the clock, I thought to myself, ‘This moment now, at twenty past eleven, this must never be lost,’ and I shut my eyes to make the experience more lasting. When I opened my eyes we were by a bend in the road, and a peasant girl in a black shawl waved to us; I can see her now, her dusty skirt, her gleaming, friendly smile, and in a second we had passed the end and could see her no more. Already she belonged to the past, she was only a memory.”
And:
“I wanted to go on sitting there, not talking, not listening to the others, keeping the moment precious for all time, because we were peaceful all of us, we were content and drowsy even as the bee who droned above our heads. In a little while it would be different, there would come to-morrow, and the next day, and another year. And we would be changed perhaps, never sitting quite like this again. Some of us would go away, or suffer, or die, the future stretched away in front of us, unknown, unseen, not perhaps what we wanted, not what we planned. This moment was safe though, this could not be touched.”
On old age:
“Her husband had been dead for forty years, her son for fifteen. She had to live here in this bright, red-gabled house with the nurse until it was time for her to die. I thought of how little we know about the feelings of old people. Children we understand, their fears and hopes and make-believe. I was a child yesterday. I had not forgotten. But Maxim’s grandmother, sitting there in her shawl with her poor blind eye’s, what did she feel, what was she thinking? Did she guess that we had come to visit her because we felt it right, it was a duty, so that when she got home afterwards Beatrice would be able to say, ‘Well, that clears my conscience for three months.’”
Show Less
LibraryThing member alana_leigh
There is a reason why, when you mention Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier to certain people, their eyes light up and their lips purse into an "oooh" before they tell you just how wonderful a book it is... but refuse to go in to anything vaguely plot-specific if you have not yet read it. These people
Forgive me, then, for my purring, but Rebecca is a reading pleasure that simply must be experienced to be understood. I first read Rebecca in high school after having my first encounter as described above. Because the person in question was a girl I always held in high regard, I allowed her appreciation to push me into picking up the book... and I don't believe I set it down until I had finished. I found it left me breathless as it surged forward with twists that other "suspense" or "mystery" novels look upon with deep, covetous envy. I loved it and joined the legion of "oooh"ers who simply would not say too much.
The downside to sitting in silent appreciation and not discussing the plot of a novel means that it's entirely possible to forget certain details. The horrifying realization that I had actually forgotten the exact ending of Rebecca came upon me a little less than a month ago. Now I realize that perhaps this is to do with the fact that Rebecca's true genius lies in crafting a scene and pervading atmosphere, but I knew the only thing to do was to re-read the book. This is exactly the thing many readers wish for... the chance to read a favorite book again "for the first time," though my reading was always accompanied by a familiarity of tone and scene. Eventually, the facts came back to me and the ending was once again remembered, but having started, there was no way to stop. Only the intervening holidays allowed me to set the book down at all... allowing me the supreme joy of reading the last half while snowed in to my parents' home, a blizzard raging outside that demanded I do nothing except drink tea and turn pages. Who was I to defy the elements?
The very basic storyline concerns an unnamed narrator recounting events that occurred as she was still a very young woman, though just how much time has passed between those events and the telling can't be all that long. Without family or any other means of support, she had taken as job as a companion to a rather boorish American woman and together they were in a hotel on the French Riveria when they met Maxim de Winter, a wealthy English widower who is not terribly interested in grand socializing, particularly with the older American woman, but who takes a quiet though immediate interest in our narrator (even though the reason for this is rather a mystery to her). After two weeks of car rides and luncheons (during which the American woman has been ill), the narrator's employer decides they should leave for New York straight away; with the thought of never seeing Mr. de Winter again in her mind, the narrator impetuously rushes to his room to say goodbye -- and instead, he suggests they marry. After a quick and quiet wedding and an Italian honeymoon, he takes her back to his family's estate, Manderley, and the story really begins as the young narrator struggles with her inadequacies in filling the role of lady of the estate, particularly under the ghost of the first Mrs. de Winter, Rebecca. Maxim almost never speaks of her and the narrator is too scared to raise the issue, though the rather spectral housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, is only too willing to speak of her beloved Rebecca, a charming and beautiful woman who did everything well and was apparently beloved by all. Rebecca was drowned a year earlier in the bay during a squall, but the narrator is always aware of Rebecca's presence in the house and her own inability to live up to such a perfect predecessor.
It's pure, undistilled tension as you really connect with the fears and insecurities of the narrator. It's also filled with twisted, tortured relationships and long, beautiful descriptions of gardens. It's those detailed passages that really capture the emotions coursing through the book -- the loneliness, isolation, fear, and longing. This reading will likely kick off a Daphne du Maurier reading kick on my end... as winter is the perfect time to curl up with something dark and suspenseful.
Seriously, though, it's brilliant.
I don't want to say too much... but you'll see.
Show More
will only say limited things when pressed, opting for phrases like "I don't want to say too much" or the always infuriating "you'll see." At most, they might quote its famous opening line: "Last night, I dreamt I went to Manderley again." This is usually accompanied by self-satisfied smiles, as one might observe on the cat who got the cream, and then they will sit back to purr over the memory of reading the book now that the discussion is clearly over, for nothing more will be said when it comes to specifics.Forgive me, then, for my purring, but Rebecca is a reading pleasure that simply must be experienced to be understood. I first read Rebecca in high school after having my first encounter as described above. Because the person in question was a girl I always held in high regard, I allowed her appreciation to push me into picking up the book... and I don't believe I set it down until I had finished. I found it left me breathless as it surged forward with twists that other "suspense" or "mystery" novels look upon with deep, covetous envy. I loved it and joined the legion of "oooh"ers who simply would not say too much.
The downside to sitting in silent appreciation and not discussing the plot of a novel means that it's entirely possible to forget certain details. The horrifying realization that I had actually forgotten the exact ending of Rebecca came upon me a little less than a month ago. Now I realize that perhaps this is to do with the fact that Rebecca's true genius lies in crafting a scene and pervading atmosphere, but I knew the only thing to do was to re-read the book. This is exactly the thing many readers wish for... the chance to read a favorite book again "for the first time," though my reading was always accompanied by a familiarity of tone and scene. Eventually, the facts came back to me and the ending was once again remembered, but having started, there was no way to stop. Only the intervening holidays allowed me to set the book down at all... allowing me the supreme joy of reading the last half while snowed in to my parents' home, a blizzard raging outside that demanded I do nothing except drink tea and turn pages. Who was I to defy the elements?
The very basic storyline concerns an unnamed narrator recounting events that occurred as she was still a very young woman, though just how much time has passed between those events and the telling can't be all that long. Without family or any other means of support, she had taken as job as a companion to a rather boorish American woman and together they were in a hotel on the French Riveria when they met Maxim de Winter, a wealthy English widower who is not terribly interested in grand socializing, particularly with the older American woman, but who takes a quiet though immediate interest in our narrator (even though the reason for this is rather a mystery to her). After two weeks of car rides and luncheons (during which the American woman has been ill), the narrator's employer decides they should leave for New York straight away; with the thought of never seeing Mr. de Winter again in her mind, the narrator impetuously rushes to his room to say goodbye -- and instead, he suggests they marry. After a quick and quiet wedding and an Italian honeymoon, he takes her back to his family's estate, Manderley, and the story really begins as the young narrator struggles with her inadequacies in filling the role of lady of the estate, particularly under the ghost of the first Mrs. de Winter, Rebecca. Maxim almost never speaks of her and the narrator is too scared to raise the issue, though the rather spectral housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, is only too willing to speak of her beloved Rebecca, a charming and beautiful woman who did everything well and was apparently beloved by all. Rebecca was drowned a year earlier in the bay during a squall, but the narrator is always aware of Rebecca's presence in the house and her own inability to live up to such a perfect predecessor.
It's pure, undistilled tension as you really connect with the fears and insecurities of the narrator. It's also filled with twisted, tortured relationships and long, beautiful descriptions of gardens. It's those detailed passages that really capture the emotions coursing through the book -- the loneliness, isolation, fear, and longing. This reading will likely kick off a Daphne du Maurier reading kick on my end... as winter is the perfect time to curl up with something dark and suspenseful.
Seriously, though, it's brilliant.
I don't want to say too much... but you'll see.
Show Less
LibraryThing member elenchus
I could see Maxim standing at the foot of the stairs, laughing, shaking hands, turning to someone who stood by his side, tall and slim, with dark hair, said the bishop's wife, dark hair against a white face, someone whose quick eyes saw to the comfort of her guests, who gave an order over her
Rebecca is a delicious read, and not so much for the story (as iconic as it's become) as for the writing, and the atmosphere, and that the pages almost turn of themselves and yet if I allow myself time to pause, think for a moment on what is unfolding, questions surface, pointing to things not so obvious. Du Maurier is clever enough that there aren't contradictions so much as there are gaps, we can fill them in a number of ways equally fitting and persuasive. Primarily these have to do with what sort of people are these characters. Du Maurier seems quite content to let us think about it, there isn't necessarily a given answer.
The choice of narrator is key for the story. We know very little about the past, and the confusion about Rebecca and Maxim is crucial to the mood. We also get sucked into rooting for a confessed murderer, though this isn't completely successful due to the less-than-compelling personalities involved. Highsmith's Ripley came to mind, there's a broadly comparable set-up but a much different path taken, though I wondered more than once whether one character or another would veer around before the end.
Some broad parallels between the protagonist here (never named) and Mary Yellan in Jamaica Inn. I found Mary more sympathetic and easier to root for, but the naïveté they share is a strong character trait for each. As with Jamaica Inn, du Maurier is a convincing naturalist, her descriptions of Cornwall and the coast are masterful but always fit the action. And again, I am tempted to revisit the Hitchcock adaptation ... am I correct in thinking Favell is omitted entirely?
It doesn't make for sanity, does it, living with the devil? [277]
Show More
shoulder to a servant, someone who was never awkward, never without grace, who when she danced left a stab of perfume in the air like a white azalea. [128]Rebecca is a delicious read, and not so much for the story (as iconic as it's become) as for the writing, and the atmosphere, and that the pages almost turn of themselves and yet if I allow myself time to pause, think for a moment on what is unfolding, questions surface, pointing to things not so obvious. Du Maurier is clever enough that there aren't contradictions so much as there are gaps, we can fill them in a number of ways equally fitting and persuasive. Primarily these have to do with what sort of people are these characters. Du Maurier seems quite content to let us think about it, there isn't necessarily a given answer.
The choice of narrator is key for the story. We know very little about the past, and the confusion about Rebecca and Maxim is crucial to the mood. We also get sucked into rooting for a confessed murderer, though this isn't completely successful due to the less-than-compelling personalities involved. Highsmith's Ripley came to mind, there's a broadly comparable set-up but a much different path taken, though I wondered more than once whether one character or another would veer around before the end.
Some broad parallels between the protagonist here (never named) and Mary Yellan in Jamaica Inn. I found Mary more sympathetic and easier to root for, but the naïveté they share is a strong character trait for each. As with Jamaica Inn, du Maurier is a convincing naturalist, her descriptions of Cornwall and the coast are masterful but always fit the action. And again, I am tempted to revisit the Hitchcock adaptation ... am I correct in thinking Favell is omitted entirely?
It doesn't make for sanity, does it, living with the devil? [277]
Show Less
LibraryThing member clfisha
A haunting, evocative and memorable classic.
"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again" so begins the wonderfully evocative tale of Rebecca. A story dripping in atmosphere and tension, a haunting anti-romance, a tale of the other women, of a young women’s struggle for a life and an
It is beautifully written and I think the opening chapter is one of the best I have ever read. The characters fit so snugly, the place so rich it's a character itself. The plot too, carefully laid out so suspense just grows and grows combine that with a delicious undercurrent of menace juxtaposing against innocence and you have a winner of a tale. Subverting, just subtly, your expectations of what will happen, twisting it’s meaning. I mean you know but until you read the words you haven’t yet felt it.
Highly recommend to lovers of dark tales, mysteries, romantics and lovers of the gothic. Ignore the turgid plot summaries the book is so much bette
"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again" so begins the wonderfully evocative tale of Rebecca. A story dripping in atmosphere and tension, a haunting anti-romance, a tale of the other women, of a young women’s struggle for a life and an
Show More
identity, of a beautiful all consuming place and ... well.. of many things. There is much here to chew over or just sit back and enjoy a masterful tale.It is beautifully written and I think the opening chapter is one of the best I have ever read. The characters fit so snugly, the place so rich it's a character itself. The plot too, carefully laid out so suspense just grows and grows combine that with a delicious undercurrent of menace juxtaposing against innocence and you have a winner of a tale. Subverting, just subtly, your expectations of what will happen, twisting it’s meaning. I mean you know but until you read the words you haven’t yet felt it.
Highly recommend to lovers of dark tales, mysteries, romantics and lovers of the gothic. Ignore the turgid plot summaries the book is so much bette
Show Less
LibraryThing member booksandwine
One of my top ten favorite opening lines is now, ‘Last night I dreamt of Manderley again” – these sparse words set a tone where I just know the language is going to be beautiful. Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier is a tale of gothic romance, without the creepster Heathcliff.The characters are
Show More
haunting. There is the second Mrs. DeWinter, Maxim, Mrs. Danvers, and of course, Rebecca. DW2 is a character who is unsure of herself, as she is thrown into a new life situation. I felt her actions and reactions were quite genuine. To be completely honest, I would most likely have done the same. Honestly, what female hasn’t compared herself to the dreaded ex? I thought Maxim was a creeper out for a trophy wife. Mrs. Danvers was terrifying, I just picture her as a wicked witch, LOL.The plot twists are often described as being predictable in other reviews. Apparently, I am slow as I did not see many of the twists coming until well, the actual twist itself. However, I refused to look at spoilers or really look at reviews of Rebecca which I feel added to my suspense.Aside from the action, I felt the language was extraordinary. Reading Rebecca was delicious. If you already know the destination of Rebecca, perhaps you should read it to appreciate the journey. The writing is eloquent, which is not something I am very used to. I drew out my reading of Rebecca because I wanted to savor the words, and you can only read a book for the first time once. I would love to revisit Rebecca someday. It is deserving of multiple readings. I feel there is so much to be studied and interpreted within the pages, such as female roles during the time period (late 1920s-1930s I’m guessing), looking at the story in terms of control and submissiveness, looking at this via cultural norms, and also as a study of class relations. I feel I could discuss this novel all day! Show Less
LibraryThing member dczapka
Rebecca presents an interesting conundrum, particularly for film fans, as it is both the quintessential novel and film in the realm of romantic suspense. Despite having experience with Hitchcock's Oscar-winning rendition, the novel still manages to be a fascinating and interesting, if less
The novel begins with its famously evocative dream stroll down the overgrown drive to Manderley. From the very start, du Maurier uses her unnamed narrator's distinctive voice to highlight her strengths as a writer: her ability to describe nature and the often-surprising characterization of inanimate objects. The growth of weeds and the falling of shadows manage to come alive and create a sense of menace that pervades even the most benign scenes of the novel.
Manderley, however, is the piece de resistance of du Maurier's work. The house itself becomes a character, from the gentle nooks of "Happy Valley" to the shrouded layer of dust and darkness that sits over the home's now-abandoned west wing. The strengths of du Maurier's best characters, like the inimitable and demonic Mrs. Danvers, are often inextricably linked to their interactions with the home, accentuating both the details and the personalities to remarkable effect.
If there's a weakness to the novel, it's not the plot, which twists and turns unexpectedly right through to the very end, but with the ways in which du Maurier treats her main couple, Mr. and Mrs. Maxim de Winter. The second Mrs. de Winter takes much of the novel to shake her oppressive naïveté, and it's a bit of a stretch to see how quickly she becomes both savvy and supportive of Maxim. He too is a strange case, queerly enigmatic through much of the start, only to become a radically different person after making his revelation about Rebecca in the boat house. Both of these characters seem too willing to change to accommodate a formula, whereas the rest of the novel marches to its own unique beat.
Despite these slight issues, the most substantial obstacle for a first-time reader is the need to stave off the familiarity of the work. If you can get through knowing the plot twists, you'll find a surprisingly well-crafted and interesting novel that deserves its many accolades.
Show More
suspenseful, read.The novel begins with its famously evocative dream stroll down the overgrown drive to Manderley. From the very start, du Maurier uses her unnamed narrator's distinctive voice to highlight her strengths as a writer: her ability to describe nature and the often-surprising characterization of inanimate objects. The growth of weeds and the falling of shadows manage to come alive and create a sense of menace that pervades even the most benign scenes of the novel.
Manderley, however, is the piece de resistance of du Maurier's work. The house itself becomes a character, from the gentle nooks of "Happy Valley" to the shrouded layer of dust and darkness that sits over the home's now-abandoned west wing. The strengths of du Maurier's best characters, like the inimitable and demonic Mrs. Danvers, are often inextricably linked to their interactions with the home, accentuating both the details and the personalities to remarkable effect.
If there's a weakness to the novel, it's not the plot, which twists and turns unexpectedly right through to the very end, but with the ways in which du Maurier treats her main couple, Mr. and Mrs. Maxim de Winter. The second Mrs. de Winter takes much of the novel to shake her oppressive naïveté, and it's a bit of a stretch to see how quickly she becomes both savvy and supportive of Maxim. He too is a strange case, queerly enigmatic through much of the start, only to become a radically different person after making his revelation about Rebecca in the boat house. Both of these characters seem too willing to change to accommodate a formula, whereas the rest of the novel marches to its own unique beat.
Despite these slight issues, the most substantial obstacle for a first-time reader is the need to stave off the familiarity of the work. If you can get through knowing the plot twists, you'll find a surprisingly well-crafted and interesting novel that deserves its many accolades.
Show Less
LibraryThing member rainpebble
Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier
"Last Night I Dreamt I Went To Manderley Again." Quite possibly one of the most famous first lines of a novel ever.
Manderley, the ancestral home of Maxim de Winter, is a large Victorian mansion that is ever dark & boding.
The protagonist of our gothic novel is a paid
She meets Maxim and is enamored of him. He courts her and soon asks her to marry him. She accepts, not actually knowing anything about her new husband nor his dark past.
After the honeymoon Maxim takes his bride to Manderley to live. Mrs. Danvers, the housekeeper, easily intimidates her and she seems to always be in a fragile state. (Frankly Mrs. Danvers creeps me out as well.) She was enthralled by the first Mrs. de Winter, Rebecca, who drowned at sea, and is not happy that there is a replacement. She is rude, finds the new bride unacceptable and begins a psychological attack upon her keeping her in quite a nervous state so that she never feels up to the task of being the lady of the house nor the wife of Maxim. She always feels as if she were living in the shadow of Rebecca.
Our heroine soon learns of Maxim's great love of Rebecca, the mystery surrounding the events of her drowning and that all is not well in the house at Manderley.
Daphne du Maurier has written a great many novels as well as some nonfiction and many of them are wonderful reads. However I find Rebecca to be my favorite. It is always fresh, exciting and nerve wracking. Just what I want in a gothic romance. I don't love the characters, any of them, but I do love the book. A wonderful novel that I find to be a page turner every time I read it. I very highly recommend this one!
"Last Night I Dreamt I Went To Manderley Again." Quite possibly one of the most famous first lines of a novel ever.
Manderley, the ancestral home of Maxim de Winter, is a large Victorian mansion that is ever dark & boding.
The protagonist of our gothic novel is a paid
Show More
traveling companion to a wealthy lady in the opening of the book. She is shy, retiring and feels inept with her employment. She meets Maxim and is enamored of him. He courts her and soon asks her to marry him. She accepts, not actually knowing anything about her new husband nor his dark past.
After the honeymoon Maxim takes his bride to Manderley to live. Mrs. Danvers, the housekeeper, easily intimidates her and she seems to always be in a fragile state. (Frankly Mrs. Danvers creeps me out as well.) She was enthralled by the first Mrs. de Winter, Rebecca, who drowned at sea, and is not happy that there is a replacement. She is rude, finds the new bride unacceptable and begins a psychological attack upon her keeping her in quite a nervous state so that she never feels up to the task of being the lady of the house nor the wife of Maxim. She always feels as if she were living in the shadow of Rebecca.
Our heroine soon learns of Maxim's great love of Rebecca, the mystery surrounding the events of her drowning and that all is not well in the house at Manderley.
Daphne du Maurier has written a great many novels as well as some nonfiction and many of them are wonderful reads. However I find Rebecca to be my favorite. It is always fresh, exciting and nerve wracking. Just what I want in a gothic romance. I don't love the characters, any of them, but I do love the book. A wonderful novel that I find to be a page turner every time I read it. I very highly recommend this one!
Show Less
LibraryThing member Smiler69
The narrator, a young woman just barely out of school is working for a rich and unpleasant American woman as a companion, when she meets Maxim de Winter, a man twice her age and recently widowed who nevertheless courts her and asks her to marry him within a couple of weeks. Given the choice between
Show More
following her employer to New York and spending her life on the renowned Manderley estate with this dashing older man, she opts for a quick marriage and honeymoon in Italy. When the newlywed couple arrive at Manderley and are greeted by the staff, the young woman is immediately made to feel ill at ease. Nothing in her background has prepared her to take charge of this kind of residence, something which the very scary housekeeper Mrs Danvers, who is devoted to the late Mrs De Winter, doesn't fail to make clear. In no time at all, our young woman is convinced she's made a mistake. Her husband seems to have little interest in her and she is convinced that his first wife Rebecca still has a hold on him and everyone else she's ever graced with her charms. Very little actually happens for at least the first half of this novel, but the tension could be cut with a knife, the Gothic atmosphere is brilliantly conveyed, and pretty soon it becomes impossible to know who should and shouldn't be trusted. The audio version is beautifully narrated by one of my all-time favourites, Anna Massey. Show Less
LibraryThing member AdonisGuilfoyle
I re-read this book every year, and I'm always impressed by how skilfully Daphne Du Maurier crafted her characters. The second Mrs De Winter is one of the few heroines I prefer to identify with rather than aspire to emulate, because she is so human and believable. Rebecca, the eponymous (and
And I notice new details with every reading - the powerful imagery of flowers and nature, with Rebecca's heady rhododendrons and the haunting echo of the sea, and the self-deprecating bias of the narration (is the second Mrs De Winter, with her overactive imagination, telling the truth in every scene?) I love the little character quirks of the narrator, and I really feel her nervousness and embarrassment in the early chapters. Manderley is far more imposing than Mrs Danvers, or the ghost of Rebecca, and any young bride would be scared of her new role as its mistress.
Still one of my favourite novels, and one of the few stories able to engross and entertain the second - and tenth, and fiftieth - time around!
Show More
deceased) anti-heroine of the story, is merely a construction of the narrator's imagination and Mrs Danver's idolatory. It seems stupid and redundant to say, but Rebecca is not real - like Dona St Columb in 'Frenchman's Creek', she may be what Du Maurier aspired to be, or the type of woman she feared (based on a former girlfriend of her husband), but a book with fearless, practically perfect Rebecca de Winter would not work as well as the timid, anonymous perspective of a young wife.And I notice new details with every reading - the powerful imagery of flowers and nature, with Rebecca's heady rhododendrons and the haunting echo of the sea, and the self-deprecating bias of the narration (is the second Mrs De Winter, with her overactive imagination, telling the truth in every scene?) I love the little character quirks of the narrator, and I really feel her nervousness and embarrassment in the early chapters. Manderley is far more imposing than Mrs Danvers, or the ghost of Rebecca, and any young bride would be scared of her new role as its mistress.
Still one of my favourite novels, and one of the few stories able to engross and entertain the second - and tenth, and fiftieth - time around!
Show Less
LibraryThing member diogo79
I was hooked from beginning to the end.
LibraryThing member cscovil
DAPHNE DU MAURIER: Rebecca
Read in 1984 and revisited many times.
An adroit, compelling and haunting romance that touches the heart.
The young and innocent girl who marries Maxim de Winter in Monte Carlo to become the second Mrs De Winter is not to be compared to his first wife, Rebecca. Rebecca has
“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again….” the opening line leads to a story of haunting where the second Mrs De Winter, often called “child” by her husband, is dogged by the legacy of the dazzling and accomplished Rebecca, who seems the perfect wife.
The girl, whose first name is never revealed in the novel, fears she is a poor second to Rebecca but a twist in the plot reveals her to be a woman of real value whom Maxim truly loves.
Classic Fiction Novel 1938
Read in 1984 and revisited many times.
An adroit, compelling and haunting romance that touches the heart.
The young and innocent girl who marries Maxim de Winter in Monte Carlo to become the second Mrs De Winter is not to be compared to his first wife, Rebecca. Rebecca has
Show More
been drowned and Maxim proposes to this young woman merely days after they meet in Monte Carlo and brings her home to his estate Manderley.“Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again….” the opening line leads to a story of haunting where the second Mrs De Winter, often called “child” by her husband, is dogged by the legacy of the dazzling and accomplished Rebecca, who seems the perfect wife.
The girl, whose first name is never revealed in the novel, fears she is a poor second to Rebecca but a twist in the plot reveals her to be a woman of real value whom Maxim truly loves.
Classic Fiction Novel 1938
Show Less
LibraryThing member 2chances
So this is my, what? Thirtieth time reading Rebecca? It NEVER gets old. Oh gosh, Rebecca . Yes, five stars. I would give ten if that were an option, because Rebecca is brilliant. DuMaurier is a fine author anyway, but Rebecca is her magnum opus, her swan song, her...I don't know. Her descriptions
(BTW, my daughter just mentioned to me that she always reads Rebecca when she is coming down from Jane Eyre. I can hardly believe this, but I never noticed the similarities until she said that. But anyway: in terms of sheer literary art, Rebecca is the better book. But I still love Mr. Rochester infinitely more than chilly Max de Winter.)
Show More
are amazing: she uses thousands of words and never wastes one. Every single line adds a shade, a nuance, to that strangely lovely yet dreamlike/creepy atmosphere she weaves, until the non-entity narrator sinks into oblivion and dead Rebecca becomes more vividly alive than any other character. I always marvel, as I finish the book, how clearly I can SEE Rebecca; I know I would recognize her (and her handwriting!) if I ever saw her. (BTW, my daughter just mentioned to me that she always reads Rebecca when she is coming down from Jane Eyre. I can hardly believe this, but I never noticed the similarities until she said that. But anyway: in terms of sheer literary art, Rebecca is the better book. But I still love Mr. Rochester infinitely more than chilly Max de Winter.)
Show Less
LibraryThing member elliepotten
What an amazing book! I always put off reading it because it seemed rather stuffy, somehow - how wrong I was! It is a taut and brilliantly written novel, winding through different genres, exquisite symbolism and intricate complexities, into a fantastic and compelling story.
When a shy, poor young
Full of vivid characters, naive hope, thrilling mystery, chilling despair, and descriptions that ring with pure poetry, there is no wonder that this book remains well loved through the generations.
When a shy, poor young
Show More
woman meets a rich widower in Monte Carlo, she falls in love with him and is astounded when he asks her to be his wife - the new Mrs de Winter. However, she soon realises that the previous Mrs de Winter's presence still hangs heavily over his life and home - the grand Manderley, set on du Maurier's beloved Cornish coast - and that the terrible secrets of their marriage will haunt them both until Rebecca takes her revenge from beyond the grave... Full of vivid characters, naive hope, thrilling mystery, chilling despair, and descriptions that ring with pure poetry, there is no wonder that this book remains well loved through the generations.
Show Less
LibraryThing member kellyoliva
This is my favorite novel. I have taught it to 9th graders for two years, and I continue to be mesmerized by the character of the deceased Mrs. De Winter. I find so many characteristics of the narrator in myself, helping me clearly identify with the novel's protagonist. This book is a fantastic
Show More
example of suspense and dark mystery. I recommend it to any woman who second guesses herself, and hasn't come to appreciate her worth. One note, while the book starts out quite slowly, the plot quickly gathers speed. It is difficult not to gasp while reading certain scenes of Rebecca. Show Less
LibraryThing member girlfromshangrila
Step right into the mind of a woman threatened by her own fears and imagined shortcomings. Let yourself be captured by the beauty of England of the early 20th Century. Feel the hairs at the back of your head stand at their ends as the suspense builds up. Grieve as the world of the heroine is
An alternate way to describe this book would simply be: flawless.
Show More
shattered to pieces by secrets bigger than herself.An alternate way to describe this book would simply be: flawless.
Show Less
LibraryThing member MrsLee
My grandmother died when I was very young. I didn't know much about her. Years later, when my grandfather died and we had to go through their things, I found only two books belonging to my grandmother. Her Bible, and this edition of Rebecca. I had never heard of it, and I wondered what was so good
Show More
about it to make her keep it all those years. It was completely falling apart, with a string tying it together. Well, maybe it was the photos of Sir Laurence Olivier, but when I read it, I fell in love with the haunting and mesmerizing tale that it is. I like to think that my grandmother found it so as well. I bought a replacement hardcover to read again and again, but I kept the cover and photos which were in this book because of grandma. Show Less
LibraryThing member highflyer
I really liked this more than I thought I would. I really think the main character grew so much through this story that it is hard to not like her in some way, to root for her and her happiness. I know I did, and it certainly was a strange, mysteries enough story to keep me reading until I could
Show More
finish! I'm so glad I decided to read this. Show Less
Subjects
Awards
Anthony Award (Nominee — 2000)
Haycraft Queen Cornerstones (1938)
Waterstones Books of the Century (44 — 1997)
Julian Symons' 100 Best Crime Stories (1938 — 1938)
Original publication date
1938
Physical description
7.8 inches
Local notes
fiction