Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

 

author: Daphne du Maurier

publishing house: Virago Modern Classics

publication year: 2015

language: English

original language: English

genre: classic/gothic fiction

Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way barred to me. […] No smoke came from the chimney, and the little lattice windows gaped forlorn.

Although I had picked up this novel first published in 1938 over and over again, something in the first few pages always held me back. The narrative loomed slow and weighed down by descriptions that, I thought, would bore me. However, mindful of Alfred Hitchcock's 1940 masterpiece inspired precisely by Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca, I did not give up on it.

I thought then that, as often happens to me, it was the language factor that did not convince me. I often find the Italian translations much less engaging than the originals - perhaps, if are also not an native English-speaker you understand the issue with reading translated books - so whenever possible I make sure to buy the books in their original version. Having bought a physical English edition of the book, a few weeks ago I was finally able to get over the hurdle of the first few pages, finally immersing myself in reading this gothic novel, perfect for the autumn season.

Yes, in the end the first part was indeed as slow and rich in description as I had anticipated, but as one keeps on reading one realises that the placid initial narrative, that of our protagonist in her early twenties, the lady-in-waiting to a rich and cruel American woman, slowly evolves into a tale marked by disturbing, often morbid, symbols and reminders, which allow for a feeling of uneasiness that gradually becomes stronger and stronger.

The novel follows a very young unnamed protagonist, shy and clumsy, who is employed as a lady-in-waiting to the insufferable Mrs. Van Hopper. The story thus opens in sunny Monte Carlo, where the protagonist runs into Maximilian de Winter, a cold and seemingly inconsolable widower, with whom she establishes a friendship that quickly evolves into love. In love with the man and fascinated by his story - which includes his enormous estate in the English countryside, Manderley - the protagonist soon agrees to become the second Mrs. de Winter.

Once at Manderley, however, the protagonist realizes that Rebecca, de Winter's deceased first wife, is more alive than ever in the memories of all the locals. It is still she who holds the role of mistress of the house, mainly due to the servile and morbid devotion shown to her by her glacial personal maid, Mrs. Danvers, who still serves the house.

 

Perhaps I haunted her as she haunted me; she looked down on me from the gallery as Mrs Danvers had said, she sat beside me when I wrote my letters at her desk. That mackintosh I wore, that handkerchief I used. They were hers. Perhaps she knew and had seen me take them. Jasper had been her dog, and he ran at my heels now. The roses were hers and I cut them. Did she resent me and fear me as I resented her?

From her engagement to her life at Manderley, the protagonist thus finds herself struggling with the oppressive memory of Rebecca, a figure of a seemingly ideal woman and wife, perfect in every way, opposite in everything to the protagonist. At Manderley, the rooms are furnished according to Rebecca's taste, the servants follow the orders given by Rebecca, even the flowers in the garden are those Rebecca chose. The thought of confrontation with the first Mrs de Winter haunts the protagonist: her marriage takes on the appearance of failure in her eyes, while the incommunicability that characterises her relationship with her husband leaves her confused and dejected. Although she tries to free herself from the grip exerted by the memory of Rebecca, the latter's spirit does not accept defeat.

Page after page, however, a very different picture of that perfect first wife begins to emerge. Perhaps her death was not an accident, perhaps things played out differently than they appear, than everyone believes. 

The main character, still immature in many ways, a form waiting to be moulded, turns out gray when placed side by side with the intense colours that dominate Rebecca's character, such as the blood-red rhododendrons that haunt part of Manderley's garden. But the more the truth surfaces, the more dull Rebecca's figure becomes, while that of the protagonist gains strength and vitality. We could say that the story told in the novel is Rebecca's last adventure and that at the end of this narrative the protagonist finally manages to gain her own corner of the world, to finally become the main character, the kind of character worthy of giving her name to a novel. In this sense, Rebecca's “downfall” and the protagonist's ascent proceed hand in hand but in diametrically opposite directions. Without one, the other could not exist.

Through the actions of its characters, this novel explores numerous gray areas of the moral sphere hidden beneath apparent English respectability. The protagonist, in her journey of personal evolution, shows us how far one can go for the love of someone. The resolute choice made by the protagonist toward the end of the novel, whether right or wrong does not matter, is in fact her first truly independent step, the first choice of a now adult personality, stripped of any initial innocence. 

In short, in spite of its tiring beginning, this novel bewitched me and has fully entered the list of my favorite books. Coupled then with the movie of the same name, this story exudes a gothic atmosphere so dense and dark that it is truly perfect for all readers who are looking for a dark novel to peruse during this time of year.

Rebecca, movie by Alfred Hitchcock, 1940