Review: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

While on holiday in Monte Carlo, a young traveling companion with very little to her name catches the eye of Max de Winter, a rich widower and the owner of the Manderly estate in England. Weeks later, after a short and unlikely romance, Maxim proposes marriage. 

But problems begin to arise upon their arrival at Manderly. The new Mrs. de Winter discovers that life at the estate is not all she imagined it would be; instead, she finds a distant husband, cold staff, and a dark mystery that hangs over the house and haunts the daily lives of its inhabitants. 

Loneliness, curiosity, and jealousy soon begin to cloud the happiness of the newlyweds, as the second Mrs. de Winter begins to uncover exactly what happened to the first; did she really perish in a boating accident, or is the truth far more sinister and complicated? 

A chilling gothic romance, Rebecca is exquisitely written, with fascinating and well-woven characters populating its pages. The plot holds you enthralled to the end, and its twists and turns add just enough suspense to keep you engaged. 

None of the characters are particularly likable, but they are interesting; from the loyal and mild-mannered Frank Crawley, to the lovable dog Jasper, to the horrifying and pathetic Mrs. Danvers— a masterfully written villain. The main character is likewise well-constructed; she is cringey and irritating and yet somehow still relatable, and the reader gets drawn into her struggles and concerns.

One of the elements I enjoyed the most about the novel was the writing devices employed by the author. One example is the way the main character and narrator is never named, but the dead ex-wife permeates the entire novel with her presence, down to her name on the cover. 

Rebecca is there for the whole novel, even when we know nothing about her, and even though she is dead, she influences every aspect of their lives, even after the novel is over— and (minor spoiler), knowing her character, one can’t help but think that she would take great delight in this fact.  

Other enjoyable elements include the imagery and the characterisation, and the fact that even though a few things were not clarified— including the ending— the reader still knows exactly what happened. This wouldn’t be possible if it wasn’t an extremely well-written novel. 

That said, there were other aspects of Rebecca that were less enjoyable. The plot is slow-moving, which might not be to the taste of some. It was hard to like any of the characters— although this only enhanced the storytelling and the nature of the novel. In addition, it ended rather abruptly and without full explanation (though, again, this suited the novel and the story that was told). 

It also isn’t a very happy book, but it wasn’t intended to be, so this is hardly a mark against it. 

There are a few other elements that are a little more problematic. 

Notably so was the central romance; the age gap was about twenty years, and the reader doesn’t really get the feeling of affection from Maxim so much as the feeling of a condescending parent when interacting with his younger wife. 

In addition, the main character’s entire sense of self-worth appears to depend on those around her, most specifically her husband, and there is not much character growth or development throughout the plot. 

There are some who have critiqued this book for sexist attitudes and plot, and others who have praised it for making the opposite point; whatever the intention of the author, I did find some of these elements discomfiting, most specifically the character of Maxim de Winter, and also the way the two different Mrs. de Winters are portrayed and presented. The way that the women are judged and expected to behave by society, as well as how they are expected to interact with Mr. de Winter, and how he treats them, are all somewhat problematic; it is unclear whether the author was critiquing these aspects through her work, or simply using them as plot devices. 

At the very least, these elements add a thought-provoking aspect to the book. It is interesting after one has read the novel and interpreted it a certain way based on the characters’ viewpoints, to go back and analyse the events with one’s own lens, to question the characters’ actions and thoughts and perceptions. 

A last problematic element that deserves mention is that the characters in the novel refer to a mentally impaired man as an ‘idiot’, which, though probably in keeping with the times it was written, strikes one as improper and insensitive today. 

As for content warnings, there are some references to alcohol and smoking, but nothing severe. In addition, there is mention of unfaithfulness/promiscuity. There is also talk of violence and death, and an overall dark undertone to the novel. Though there is no starkly inappropriate content, the themes recommend it as an adult novel— mid to late teens and over. 

Recommended for fans of a good gothic novel or of books like Jane Eyre or Wuthering Heights, but not so much if you’re looking for a relaxing or heartwarming read. In addition, it is a nice classic for those not too familiar with the genre; it’s not a particularly hard read, but still rich and entertaining, as well as thought-provoking with its many facets. 

(P.S.: for some benefits of why you should read classics, check out our post here.)