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Rebecca
"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again."
So the second Mrs. Maxim de Winter remembered the chilling events that led her down the turning drive past the beeches, white and naked, to the isolated gray stone manse on the windswept Cornish coast. With a husband she barely knew, the young bride arrived at this immense estate, only to be inexorably drawn into the life of the first Mrs. de Winter, the beautiful Rebecca, dead but never forgotten...her suite of rooms never touched, her clothes ready to be worn, her servant -- the sinister Mrs. Danvers -- still loyal. And as an eerie presentiment of the evil tightened around her heart, the second Mrs. de Winter began her search for the real fate of Rebecca...for the secrets of Manderley.
So the second Mrs. Maxim de Winter remembered the chilling events that led her down the turning drive past the beeches, white and naked, to the isolated gray stone manse on the windswept Cornish coast. With a husband she barely knew, the young bride arrived at this immense estate, only to be inexorably drawn into the life of the first Mrs. de Winter, the beautiful Rebecca, dead but never forgotten...her suite of rooms never touched, her clothes ready to be worn, her servant -- the sinister Mrs. Danvers -- still loyal. And as an eerie presentiment of the evil tightened around her heart, the second Mrs. de Winter began her search for the real fate of Rebecca...for the secrets of Manderley.
380 pages, Mass Market Paperback
Published July 30, 2002
131 people are currently reading
3605 people want to read
About the author
Daphne du Maurier
433 books10.2k followersDaphne du Maurier was born on 13 May 1907 at 24 Cumberland Terrace, Regent's Park, London, the middle of three daughters of prominent actor-manager Sir Gerald du Maurier and actress Muriel, née Beaumont. In many ways her life resembles a fairy tale. Born into a family with a rich artistic and historical background, her paternal grandfather was author and Punch cartoonist George du Maurier, who created the character of Svengali in the 1894 novel Trilby, and her mother was a maternal niece of journalist, author, and lecturer Comyns Beaumont. She and her sisters were indulged as a children and grew up enjoying enormous freedom from financial and parental restraint. Her elder sister, Angela du Maurier, also became a writer, and her younger sister Jeanne was a painter.
She spent her youth sailing boats, travelling on the Continent with friends, and writing stories. Her family connections helped her establish her literary career, and she published some of her early work in Beaumont's Bystander magazine. A prestigious publishing house accepted her first novel when she was in her early twenties, and its publication brought her not only fame but the attentions of a handsome soldier, Major (later Lieutenant-General Sir) Frederick Browning, whom she married.
She continued writing under her maiden name, and her subsequent novels became bestsellers, earning her enormous wealth and fame. Many have been successfully adapted into films, including the novels Rebecca, Frenchman's Creek, My Cousin Rachel, and Jamaica Inn, and the short stories The Birds and Don't Look Now/Not After Midnight. While Alfred Hitchcock's films based upon her novels proceeded to make her one of the best-known authors in the world, she enjoyed the life of a fairy princess in a mansion in Cornwall called Menabilly, which served as the model for Manderley in Rebecca.
Daphne du Maurier was obsessed with the past. She intensively researched the lives of Francis and Anthony Bacon, the history of Cornwall, the Regency period, and nineteenth-century France and England. Above all, however, she was obsessed with her own family history, which she chronicled in Gerald: A Portrait, a biography of her father; The du Mauriers, a study of her family which focused on her grandfather, George du Maurier, the novelist and illustrator for Punch; The Glassblowers, a novel based upon the lives of her du Maurier ancestors; and Growing Pains, an autobiography that ignores nearly 50 years of her life in favour of the joyful and more romantic period of her youth. Daphne du Maurier can best be understood in terms of her remarkable and paradoxical family, the ghosts which haunted her life and fiction.
While contemporary writers were dealing critically with such subjects as the war, alienation, religion, poverty, Marxism, psychology and art, and experimenting with new techniques such as the stream of consciousness, du Maurier produced 'old-fashioned' novels with straightforward narratives that appealed to a popular audience's love of fantasy, adventure, sexuality and mystery. At an early age, she recognised that her readership was comprised principally of women, and she cultivated their loyal following through several decades by embodying their desires and dreams in her novels and short stories.
In some of her novels, however, she went beyond the technique of the formulaic romance to achieve a powerful psychological realism reflecting her intense feelings about her father, and to a lesser degree, her mother. This vision, which underlies Julius, Rebecca and The Parasites, is that of an author overwhelmed by the memory of her father's commanding presence. In Julius and The Parasites, for example, she introduces the image of a domineering but deadly father and the daring subject of incest.
In Rebecca, on the other hand, du Maurier fuses psychological realism with a sophisticated version of the Cinderella story.
She spent her youth sailing boats, travelling on the Continent with friends, and writing stories. Her family connections helped her establish her literary career, and she published some of her early work in Beaumont's Bystander magazine. A prestigious publishing house accepted her first novel when she was in her early twenties, and its publication brought her not only fame but the attentions of a handsome soldier, Major (later Lieutenant-General Sir) Frederick Browning, whom she married.
She continued writing under her maiden name, and her subsequent novels became bestsellers, earning her enormous wealth and fame. Many have been successfully adapted into films, including the novels Rebecca, Frenchman's Creek, My Cousin Rachel, and Jamaica Inn, and the short stories The Birds and Don't Look Now/Not After Midnight. While Alfred Hitchcock's films based upon her novels proceeded to make her one of the best-known authors in the world, she enjoyed the life of a fairy princess in a mansion in Cornwall called Menabilly, which served as the model for Manderley in Rebecca.
Daphne du Maurier was obsessed with the past. She intensively researched the lives of Francis and Anthony Bacon, the history of Cornwall, the Regency period, and nineteenth-century France and England. Above all, however, she was obsessed with her own family history, which she chronicled in Gerald: A Portrait, a biography of her father; The du Mauriers, a study of her family which focused on her grandfather, George du Maurier, the novelist and illustrator for Punch; The Glassblowers, a novel based upon the lives of her du Maurier ancestors; and Growing Pains, an autobiography that ignores nearly 50 years of her life in favour of the joyful and more romantic period of her youth. Daphne du Maurier can best be understood in terms of her remarkable and paradoxical family, the ghosts which haunted her life and fiction.
While contemporary writers were dealing critically with such subjects as the war, alienation, religion, poverty, Marxism, psychology and art, and experimenting with new techniques such as the stream of consciousness, du Maurier produced 'old-fashioned' novels with straightforward narratives that appealed to a popular audience's love of fantasy, adventure, sexuality and mystery. At an early age, she recognised that her readership was comprised principally of women, and she cultivated their loyal following through several decades by embodying their desires and dreams in her novels and short stories.
In some of her novels, however, she went beyond the technique of the formulaic romance to achieve a powerful psychological realism reflecting her intense feelings about her father, and to a lesser degree, her mother. This vision, which underlies Julius, Rebecca and The Parasites, is that of an author overwhelmed by the memory of her father's commanding presence. In Julius and The Parasites, for example, she introduces the image of a domineering but deadly father and the daring subject of incest.
In Rebecca, on the other hand, du Maurier fuses psychological realism with a sophisticated version of the Cinderella story.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 1,462 reviews
August 4, 2024
Rebecca walked so Gone Girl’s Amy Dunne could run!
All in all, gorgeous writing. There is a keen sense of suspense in the beginning that kept me riveted to the page. Such a gnawing and permeating portrait of anxiety, painting so clearly the feeling of being wound up so tight, a piano wire so taut it might snap at any moment. The novel, unfortunately, does not sustain it throughout, and the thrill sags somewhere around the middle. Respectfully to our unnamed narrator, I think this would have been a more compelling read if it switched to Rebecca’s perspective at some point. What can I say? I support women's rights, but I fucking dig women's wrongs.
All in all, gorgeous writing. There is a keen sense of suspense in the beginning that kept me riveted to the page. Such a gnawing and permeating portrait of anxiety, painting so clearly the feeling of being wound up so tight, a piano wire so taut it might snap at any moment. The novel, unfortunately, does not sustain it throughout, and the thrill sags somewhere around the middle. Respectfully to our unnamed narrator, I think this would have been a more compelling read if it switched to Rebecca’s perspective at some point. What can I say? I support women's rights, but I fucking dig women's wrongs.
November 7, 2019
Manderley and I had a much more successful visit this time around, as compared to the first time I read this book several years ago. Here's the key: This is not a romance novel. It's a psychological suspense novel. As I reread Rebecca with this in mind, I had a much greater appreciation for its artistry, the way Daphne du Maurier skillfully used words to create a mood and increase the suspense.
Desperately in love with him, she does so, despite the vast differences in their ages, wealth, status ... just about everything. And despite his frequent rudeness and mockery of her.
After a too-brief honeymoon, they return to England and Maxim's lovely country estate, Manderley, presided over by the skeletal housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, who instantly takes a dislike to the new Mrs. de Winter. Mrs. Danvers does her best to undercut the main character's lack of confidence in every way possible, but mostly by holding up Maxim's first wife, Rebecca, as an impossibly high standard of beauty, taste and accomplishment, a standard that the second wife can never hope to reach.
The second wife becomes more and more haunted by this paragon, Rebecca, even though there are clues in the things Maxim, his sister and others say - and don't say - that maybe there was more to Rebecca's character than the second wife realizes.
I found it fascinating how du Maurier tells you the end in the beginning, in such a way that it doesn't spoil the story at all, but adds to the underlying tension and sense of oppression. The second Mrs. de Winter thinks they are contented, and perhaps they are, but they are deeply damaged as well, living a sort of half-life.
Mrs. Danvers is quite the character: one wonders how much her presence in Rebecca's childhood influenced the person Rebecca became. And Rebecca herself ... well, without getting into spoiler territory, she has an amazing presence in this novel for someone who's dead before it even starts.
I have to say that the second Mrs. de Winter's paralyzing lack of self-confidence and her gaucherie, even though integral to the plot, was really irksome to me at first. Every time she'd start off into another daydream, which she did All. The. Time., imagining conversations and events out of whole cloth, I would mentally roll my eyes at her. But once I realized that this is not to be read as a romance novel (really, the relationship here is pretty unhealthy on both sides), I was free to appreciate the characters' shortcomings instead of being frustrated by them, and to see how those shortcomings and their past experiences combine to bring them together, but pull them apart at the same time. It's a fascinating psychological study.
My rating has gone from 3, to 4, to 5 stars. It's a book that has really stuck with me.
Between the well-drawn, seriously flawed characters, the brooding atmosphere, with a feeling that disaster is just waiting for the right moment to strike, and the great plot twists, Rebecca is deservedly a classic in its genre.
Initial comments:
I read Rebecca maybe 15 years ago and didn't really care for it back then. I'm not entirely sure now of the reasons why, but I think it may have been that I was expecting more of a romance with some nice happy feels at the end? So now that my expectations have been adjusted, we're going to give this another shot.
We can never go back again, that much is certain. The past is still close to us. The things we have tried to forget and put behind us would stir again, and that sense of fear, of furtive unrest, struggling at length to blind unreasoning panic - now mercifully stilled, thank God - might in some manner unforeseen become a living companion as it had before.The narrator, a young and painfully self-conscious girl, is a paid companion to Mrs. Van Hopper, a snobbish social climber. While they are in Monte Carlo, Mrs. Van Hopper bulldozes her way into an acquaintance with a quiet widower, Maxim de Winter. Despite our heroine's lack of status and social graces, Maxim begins spending time with her and soon asks her to marry him.
Desperately in love with him, she does so, despite the vast differences in their ages, wealth, status ... just about everything. And despite his frequent rudeness and mockery of her.
After a too-brief honeymoon, they return to England and Maxim's lovely country estate, Manderley, presided over by the skeletal housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, who instantly takes a dislike to the new Mrs. de Winter. Mrs. Danvers does her best to undercut the main character's lack of confidence in every way possible, but mostly by holding up Maxim's first wife, Rebecca, as an impossibly high standard of beauty, taste and accomplishment, a standard that the second wife can never hope to reach.
The second wife becomes more and more haunted by this paragon, Rebecca, even though there are clues in the things Maxim, his sister and others say - and don't say - that maybe there was more to Rebecca's character than the second wife realizes.
I found it fascinating how du Maurier tells you the end in the beginning, in such a way that it doesn't spoil the story at all, but adds to the underlying tension and sense of oppression. The second Mrs. de Winter thinks they are contented, and perhaps they are, but they are deeply damaged as well, living a sort of half-life.
Mrs. Danvers is quite the character: one wonders how much her presence in Rebecca's childhood influenced the person Rebecca became. And Rebecca herself ... well, without getting into spoiler territory, she has an amazing presence in this novel for someone who's dead before it even starts.
I have to say that the second Mrs. de Winter's paralyzing lack of self-confidence and her gaucherie, even though integral to the plot, was really irksome to me at first. Every time she'd start off into another daydream, which she did All. The. Time., imagining conversations and events out of whole cloth, I would mentally roll my eyes at her. But once I realized that this is not to be read as a romance novel (really, the relationship here is pretty unhealthy on both sides), I was free to appreciate the characters' shortcomings instead of being frustrated by them, and to see how those shortcomings and their past experiences combine to bring them together, but pull them apart at the same time. It's a fascinating psychological study.
My rating has gone from 3, to 4, to 5 stars. It's a book that has really stuck with me.
Between the well-drawn, seriously flawed characters, the brooding atmosphere, with a feeling that disaster is just waiting for the right moment to strike, and the great plot twists, Rebecca is deservedly a classic in its genre.
Initial comments:
I read Rebecca maybe 15 years ago and didn't really care for it back then. I'm not entirely sure now of the reasons why, but I think it may have been that I was expecting more of a romance with some nice happy feels at the end? So now that my expectations have been adjusted, we're going to give this another shot.
August 1, 2018
"If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent."
I read this novel as a very young girl, and remembered it as a love story. Because I couldn't bottle up my memory like scent, I had this odd flavour of romance in my nose, and wasn't keen to smell it again, having no interest at all in that kind of fiction. However, as life tosses and turns one around, I felt compelled to reread it on a too hot, oppressive summer day.
And I was captivated, quite despite myself. What a gorgeously intense psychological thriller this is! The main character is either a mansion, Manderley, or a woman who died a year before the narrative starts. Both house and heroine are veiled in mystery, and the young nameless narrator of the story has to literally peel the onion step by step to get to the core of pain that hovers over her moody, taciturn husband and his strange entourage.
At times, the young lady got on my nerves, being a bit like David Copperfield - too naive to understand the story told by himself. But Daphne Du Maurier, like Dickens, pulls it off. It works. And as the reader slowly learns to see the different interpretations of truth as seen by Maxim de Winter, Mrs Danvers, Mr Favell, Frank Crawley etc., the story starts to resemble the masterpieces of dark entanglement of Du Maurier's predecessors. Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights come to mind.
As for the evil spirit of Rebecca, she has a worthy successor in Steinbeck's East of Eden. Cathy was the first female character to scare me witless. She would have got along well with the beautiful wicked witch of the West in Manderley.
A perfect scare for a hot summer night, with thunder and lightning looming over dry landscapes, keeping the tension without breaking out in a relieving rain shower.
I read this novel as a very young girl, and remembered it as a love story. Because I couldn't bottle up my memory like scent, I had this odd flavour of romance in my nose, and wasn't keen to smell it again, having no interest at all in that kind of fiction. However, as life tosses and turns one around, I felt compelled to reread it on a too hot, oppressive summer day.
And I was captivated, quite despite myself. What a gorgeously intense psychological thriller this is! The main character is either a mansion, Manderley, or a woman who died a year before the narrative starts. Both house and heroine are veiled in mystery, and the young nameless narrator of the story has to literally peel the onion step by step to get to the core of pain that hovers over her moody, taciturn husband and his strange entourage.
At times, the young lady got on my nerves, being a bit like David Copperfield - too naive to understand the story told by himself. But Daphne Du Maurier, like Dickens, pulls it off. It works. And as the reader slowly learns to see the different interpretations of truth as seen by Maxim de Winter, Mrs Danvers, Mr Favell, Frank Crawley etc., the story starts to resemble the masterpieces of dark entanglement of Du Maurier's predecessors. Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights come to mind.
As for the evil spirit of Rebecca, she has a worthy successor in Steinbeck's East of Eden. Cathy was the first female character to scare me witless. She would have got along well with the beautiful wicked witch of the West in Manderley.
A perfect scare for a hot summer night, with thunder and lightning looming over dry landscapes, keeping the tension without breaking out in a relieving rain shower.
November 3, 2023
"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again" is the best first sentence ever. It's those ghostly, rolling iambs that set the tone for the fever dream you're about to embark on. It's not the words, really; it's the effect they have on you.
The plot of Rebecca, the first time you read it (you are 13, precocious, cynical), is this (HEAVY SPOILER ALERT!). The unnamed protagonist, the second Mrs. DeWinters, is wooed by Maxim and brought to his ancestral estate, mighty Manderley. He turns out to have a tragic secret. Their love survives but Manderley doesn't.
Daphne Du Maurier, deciding whether to shoot you
The second time you read it (you are 27, critical, full of theories and eyebrows), you start to pick up on how Du Maurier describes Maxim. He reminds the future Mrs. DeWinters immediately of "dim dungeons, a past of whispers in the dark, of shimmering rapier blades." He's verbally abusive to her. She fears he'll push her off a cliff. At best he's cold and remote.
And he's a murderer, isn't he? He's killed Rebecca and covered it up. Everyone loved her - everyone except him, and who could be a less reliable narrator than a woman's killer? When he describes her wickedness, what does he really say? She has affairs. She's possibly bisexual. She refuses to pander to him. Is it possible, you wonder... that Rebecca is the hero of this story?
Well, the third time you read it - and you do read it a third time (you are 35, a new parent, and in a book club you barely have time for). Nobody reads Rebecca once. Some books are like secrets. Once you know them, you'll always return to them. Shirley Jackson, James Baldwin, Nella Larsen, 19th-century Gothics in general: when you meet people who have read them, you have an immediate understanding with them. You know things about them, and they about you. Rebecca's secret is inside this iconic corny-ass cover:
That's the cover of a romance novel, but this isn't a romance at all. There's no romance in it. Maybe on the first reading, but - do you know what the second Mrs. DeWinter feels when Maxim tells her he murdered Rebecca? She feels pure relief. "None of the things he had told me mattered to me at all," she says. "I clung to one thing only….Maxim did not love Rebecca. He had never loved her, never, never."
Mrs. DeWinters begins the book as a naif, introverted and fearful. "A whisper on the fringe of a crowd," she calls herself. When she arrives at Manderley, the ghost of Rebecca immediately oppresses her. She loses weight and she gets nastier. And after Maxim's confession, for the first time she feels...love. (Here's The Toast on that bit.) She's the major difference between Rebecca and its major influence, Jane Eyre: Unlike Jane Eyre, Mrs. DeWinters sucks.
You can't film Rebecca. In a movie you can't show Rebecca, so she won't dominate the story like she has to. But here's Joan Fontaine and Judith Anderson, trying.
And so, in the end, does Rebecca. The big clue comes from Mrs. Danvers, the woman who raised Rebecca, Mrs. DeWinters' betrayer at the excruciating Manderley ball, and the only person to accurately describe Rebecca. In a gripping scene where she tries to convince Mrs. DeWinters to jump out a window and die, she describes the real Rebecca she's clearly in love with. "I'll see them in hell, Danny," she remembers her saying - she was as anti-men as Miss Havisham- "I shall live as I please, and the whole world won't stop me." But then Mrs. Danvers tells a story about her breaking a horse, bringing it back "trembling all over, full of froth and blood," and you know. There's a hard and fast rule about cruelty to animals in literature. Rebecca isn't as purely villainous as Maxim makes her out to be - but they're all nasty customers at Manderley.
So there are stories under stories in this haunting, brilliant book. There are no good guys, no one bad guy, and no certain conclusions. Du Maurier intends all of this. Her later book My Cousin Rachel plays the same game even more gracefully: it allows for two entirely different conclusions about who the villain of the story is, and who the victim. Du Maurier is a master of subtlety, of ambiguity, and nothing is accidental. This is one of the secret books: everyone knows it exists, but not as many people know what it's about. Once you read it, it stays with you forever. I can't wait to see what I think about it the fourth time.
The plot of Rebecca, the first time you read it (you are 13, precocious, cynical), is this (HEAVY SPOILER ALERT!). The unnamed protagonist, the second Mrs. DeWinters, is wooed by Maxim and brought to his ancestral estate, mighty Manderley. He turns out to have a tragic secret. Their love survives but Manderley doesn't.
Daphne Du Maurier, deciding whether to shoot you
The second time you read it (you are 27, critical, full of theories and eyebrows), you start to pick up on how Du Maurier describes Maxim. He reminds the future Mrs. DeWinters immediately of "dim dungeons, a past of whispers in the dark, of shimmering rapier blades." He's verbally abusive to her. She fears he'll push her off a cliff. At best he's cold and remote.
And he's a murderer, isn't he? He's killed Rebecca and covered it up. Everyone loved her - everyone except him, and who could be a less reliable narrator than a woman's killer? When he describes her wickedness, what does he really say? She has affairs. She's possibly bisexual. She refuses to pander to him. Is it possible, you wonder... that Rebecca is the hero of this story?
Well, the third time you read it - and you do read it a third time (you are 35, a new parent, and in a book club you barely have time for). Nobody reads Rebecca once. Some books are like secrets. Once you know them, you'll always return to them. Shirley Jackson, James Baldwin, Nella Larsen, 19th-century Gothics in general: when you meet people who have read them, you have an immediate understanding with them. You know things about them, and they about you. Rebecca's secret is inside this iconic corny-ass cover:
That's the cover of a romance novel, but this isn't a romance at all. There's no romance in it. Maybe on the first reading, but - do you know what the second Mrs. DeWinter feels when Maxim tells her he murdered Rebecca? She feels pure relief. "None of the things he had told me mattered to me at all," she says. "I clung to one thing only….Maxim did not love Rebecca. He had never loved her, never, never."
Mrs. DeWinters begins the book as a naif, introverted and fearful. "A whisper on the fringe of a crowd," she calls herself. When she arrives at Manderley, the ghost of Rebecca immediately oppresses her. She loses weight and she gets nastier. And after Maxim's confession, for the first time she feels...love. (Here's The Toast on that bit.) She's the major difference between Rebecca and its major influence, Jane Eyre: Unlike Jane Eyre, Mrs. DeWinters sucks.
You can't film Rebecca. In a movie you can't show Rebecca, so she won't dominate the story like she has to. But here's Joan Fontaine and Judith Anderson, trying.
And so, in the end, does Rebecca. The big clue comes from Mrs. Danvers, the woman who raised Rebecca, Mrs. DeWinters' betrayer at the excruciating Manderley ball, and the only person to accurately describe Rebecca. In a gripping scene where she tries to convince Mrs. DeWinters to jump out a window and die, she describes the real Rebecca she's clearly in love with. "I'll see them in hell, Danny," she remembers her saying - she was as anti-men as Miss Havisham- "I shall live as I please, and the whole world won't stop me." But then Mrs. Danvers tells a story about her breaking a horse, bringing it back "trembling all over, full of froth and blood," and you know. There's a hard and fast rule about cruelty to animals in literature. Rebecca isn't as purely villainous as Maxim makes her out to be - but they're all nasty customers at Manderley.
So there are stories under stories in this haunting, brilliant book. There are no good guys, no one bad guy, and no certain conclusions. Du Maurier intends all of this. Her later book My Cousin Rachel plays the same game even more gracefully: it allows for two entirely different conclusions about who the villain of the story is, and who the victim. Du Maurier is a master of subtlety, of ambiguity, and nothing is accidental. This is one of the secret books: everyone knows it exists, but not as many people know what it's about. Once you read it, it stays with you forever. I can't wait to see what I think about it the fourth time.
August 30, 2024
An unlikely meeting, coupled with an unlikely attraction, makes this gothic romance a very likeable reading experience.
A young lady gets swept away to live with Maxim de Winter at his enormous ancestral home named Manderley. Maxim’s previous wife, Rebecca, passed away, and the new shy, inexperienced, yet loving wife tries her best to fill Rebecca’s shoes. But what happens when she tries to learn more about the family's past?
The answer to that question leads the reader down a rabbit hole filled with mystery, jealousy, scandal, and trepidation. Daphne du Maurier attacks all the senses and ratchets the tension of this ‘fish-out-water’ story in many interesting ways.
One of the more sadistic angles is the psychological turmoil inflicted by the infamous Mrs. Danvers. I actually quite liked her character from start to finish. Hopefully I am not alone on this. 😀 She’s edgy and contrite.
I also liked the tension Favell brought to the table, the sense of solitude I think we all experience when we move away, and the deceit we learn about in the last third or so was aces.
But it’s not all doom and gloom.
I quite liked the narrators wide-eyed charm and unrelenting love for Maxim. He’s often cold and aloof when she is around, but her want to try and make the marriage work despite something always boiling in him emotionally is endearing. It also has a unique coming-of-age story. The narrator grows up quickly in this scenario, and the quote that really endured me to her was this: “The moment of crisis had come, and I must face it. My old fears, my diffidence, my shyness, my hopeless sense of inferiority, must be conquered now and thrust aside. If I failed now I should fail forever.” Amazing, isn't it?
Also, most of the book is set at the sprawling Manderley estate, which has numerous areas our main character can explore. The library, the fireplace room, the gardens, and even the craggy cottage down by the ocean are home to many exciting encounters. The descriptions of the estate really painted a picture and helped bring the characters placed in them alive.
The ending really threw me for a loop. Not the last bit, but some of the character reveals were quite interesting.
All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed this classic gothic romance, and I look forward to reading more from the author.
🎵| Soundtrack
❖ Thrice – Come All You Weary
❖ Lo Mimieux - Berceuse
⭐ | Rating
❖ 4 out of 5
A young lady gets swept away to live with Maxim de Winter at his enormous ancestral home named Manderley. Maxim’s previous wife, Rebecca, passed away, and the new shy, inexperienced, yet loving wife tries her best to fill Rebecca’s shoes. But what happens when she tries to learn more about the family's past?
The answer to that question leads the reader down a rabbit hole filled with mystery, jealousy, scandal, and trepidation. Daphne du Maurier attacks all the senses and ratchets the tension of this ‘fish-out-water’ story in many interesting ways.
One of the more sadistic angles is the psychological turmoil inflicted by the infamous Mrs. Danvers. I actually quite liked her character from start to finish. Hopefully I am not alone on this. 😀 She’s edgy and contrite.
I also liked the tension Favell brought to the table, the sense of solitude I think we all experience when we move away, and the deceit we learn about in the last third or so was aces.
But it’s not all doom and gloom.
I quite liked the narrators wide-eyed charm and unrelenting love for Maxim. He’s often cold and aloof when she is around, but her want to try and make the marriage work despite something always boiling in him emotionally is endearing. It also has a unique coming-of-age story. The narrator grows up quickly in this scenario, and the quote that really endured me to her was this: “The moment of crisis had come, and I must face it. My old fears, my diffidence, my shyness, my hopeless sense of inferiority, must be conquered now and thrust aside. If I failed now I should fail forever.” Amazing, isn't it?
Also, most of the book is set at the sprawling Manderley estate, which has numerous areas our main character can explore. The library, the fireplace room, the gardens, and even the craggy cottage down by the ocean are home to many exciting encounters. The descriptions of the estate really painted a picture and helped bring the characters placed in them alive.
The ending really threw me for a loop. Not the last bit, but some of the character reveals were quite interesting.
All in all, I thoroughly enjoyed this classic gothic romance, and I look forward to reading more from the author.
🎵| Soundtrack
❖ Thrice – Come All You Weary
❖ Lo Mimieux - Berceuse
⭐ | Rating
❖ 4 out of 5
January 16, 2021
Jar of Death Pick #39
I'm just gonna say it....
This book is overrated.
I didnt hate it but I didn't love it. It was just fine.
Nothing special.
But I am happy that I can now watch both the Hitchcock movie and the Netflix movie.
I'm just gonna say it....
This book is overrated.
I didnt hate it but I didn't love it. It was just fine.
Nothing special.
But I am happy that I can now watch both the Hitchcock movie and the Netflix movie.
September 26, 2012
There are very few books that I remember the opening line of. This is one I can assure you I will never forget. "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again."
The characters come alive, page after page. I found myself getting totally frustrated with the narrator and then realising why? Such is the magic of this story. That and of course Manderley. Manderley, Manderley. I have been there.I've seen the rhododendrons and strolled through the Happy Valley and felt the mist of the ever present sea upon my skin. I'm sure I have met Rebecca and the unnamed I, often.
This book is stunning!
The characters come alive, page after page. I found myself getting totally frustrated with the narrator and then realising why? Such is the magic of this story. That and of course Manderley. Manderley, Manderley. I have been there.I've seen the rhododendrons and strolled through the Happy Valley and felt the mist of the ever present sea upon my skin. I'm sure I have met Rebecca and the unnamed I, often.
This book is stunning!
March 4, 2013
[image error]
Dark, Gothic, mysterious...you can say all of this about Rebecca, but I have to say that none of these really does the book justice.
Yes, it's got some dark to it. It's a story of the second wife...the young and naive bride of the rich, powerful Maximus deWinter. A tragic hero whose first wife died a bit less than a year ago. Maxim seems in turns devastated, angry, and confused about Rebecca. And in turn, our heroine...whom we never do learn the name of...what's up with that? My GR friend Cathy gave me her theory, and I wholeheartedly agree, that this glaring omission was a way for this woman to remain stripped of her own identity, immersed in a world in which she is to forever remain in the shadow of the woman who came before...Rebecca.
Rebecca
REBECCA
REBECCA
I almost got sick of the name. Her metaphorical ghost was everywhere.
"Dear God, I did not want to think about Rebecca. I wanted to be happy, to make Maxim happy, and I wanted us to be together. There was no other wish in my heart but that. I could not help it if she came to me in thoughts, in dreams. I could not help it if I felt like a guest in Manderley, my home, walking where she had trodden, resting where she had lain. I was like a guest, biding my time, waiting for the return of the hostess..."
Granted, the heroine (whom I'll refer to as Mrs. deWinter), is very much a doormat. She is exactly the type of person to let herself be pushed into the background. From the servants constant allusions to the way things were done by "Mrs. de Winter" (i.e., REBECCA!), to Mrs. Danvers, the creepy housekeepers obvious ploys to make Mrs. deWinter uncomfortable in her new home. Even Maxim at times made me question her place in her new life. Sometimes he stuck up for her in subtle ways, but more often, he is an absent character, an absent husband, and even as Mrs. deWinter proclaims her immature, everlasting love and devotion, I couldn't help but feel uneasy about him. It seems that there is always some kind of wall between him and his new young wife. Not only is he twice her age, but he holds on to the past too much.
"He did not belong to me at all, he belonged to Rebecca. He still thought about Rebecca. He would never love me because of Rebecca. She was in the house still, a Mrs. Danvers had said; she was in that room in the west wing, she was in the library, in the morning room, in the gallery above the hall...And in the garden, and in the woods, and down in the stone cottage on the beach. Her footsteps sounded in the corridors, her scent lingered on the stairs. The servants obeyed her orders still, the food we ate was the food she liked. Her favorite flowers filled the rooms...Rebecca was still mistress of Manderley. Rebecca was still Mrs. de Winter."
The biggest thing about this novel is that EVERYTHING IS NOT AS IT SEEMS. In fact, almost nothing is as you think it is. And while the first seventy five percent of the book is dedicated to proving how self deprecating and weak willed the heroine is, the last of the book takes all of your preconceptions and throws them into the ocean to drown with Rebecca!!!! Danvers is still creepy and evil, but I think above all, she's just crazy. Maxim isn't at all indifferent or unsympathetic, or even unloving. In fact, at times I think he is more vulnerable than the new Mrs. deWinter.
There are secrets within the halls of Manderley, this gorgeous, sprawling house amid lush gardens and alongside the tumultuous sea. Honestly, I expected that the Gothic manor home would be dark and dreary, spooky and scary, but that was not at all the case. Manderley is actually portrayed as beautiful and refined, a well run and respected estate...almost perfection. It is regarded by the English as near perfection, just as they regarded Rebecca. So the way that you Manderley is described is this:
[image error]
But the FEEL of Manderley is this:
[image error]
Because the overall mystery and suspense behind this book lends a sinister vibe to the de Winter's marriage, turning every word from the servants, their friends, and even each other, into phrases with hidden meaning and hidden agendas. What should have been a triumphant rags to riches story for this young girl left alone in the world who catches the eye of the rich and handsome man...no, no, no...it's twisted into something dark.
I can see how this became one of the defining books of the twentieth century. It's just a bit racier than the older classics, with more romance, more touchy-feely (she puts his hand on his knee, oh my!), more gruesome, and maybe a little less PC. Though definitely not PC by today's standards. But the wording and the prose are much easier to read than many of the classics that I've read recently, and the mystery surrounding Manderley and this odd collection of people is truly captivating. I don't tend to even like mysteries all that much, and let me assure you...above all; the romance and the suspense, this is for sure a mystery. There are revelations upon revelations.
I was bored to tears for about three chapters. And then we travel to Manderley and the plot thickens **insert evil laugh** and before I know it, I'm gasping and making my own little predictions...some that I guess right, and others that are complete shockers. And the END,
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Authors just don't end book like that nowadays...there would be quite the uproar, I think. But when it comes to these old books that paved the way for modern fiction...they were truly in a class all their own.
I'm so glad I finally took the plunge!!!
*********************************************************
This was listed as one of the most popular romance novels ever written, along with Pride and Prejudice.
**Buddy read with Karen, Cathy, Tea, and Dorota**
Dark, Gothic, mysterious...you can say all of this about Rebecca, but I have to say that none of these really does the book justice.
Yes, it's got some dark to it. It's a story of the second wife...the young and naive bride of the rich, powerful Maximus deWinter. A tragic hero whose first wife died a bit less than a year ago. Maxim seems in turns devastated, angry, and confused about Rebecca. And in turn, our heroine...whom we never do learn the name of...what's up with that? My GR friend Cathy gave me her theory, and I wholeheartedly agree, that this glaring omission was a way for this woman to remain stripped of her own identity, immersed in a world in which she is to forever remain in the shadow of the woman who came before...Rebecca.
Rebecca
REBECCA
REBECCA
I almost got sick of the name. Her metaphorical ghost was everywhere.
"Dear God, I did not want to think about Rebecca. I wanted to be happy, to make Maxim happy, and I wanted us to be together. There was no other wish in my heart but that. I could not help it if she came to me in thoughts, in dreams. I could not help it if I felt like a guest in Manderley, my home, walking where she had trodden, resting where she had lain. I was like a guest, biding my time, waiting for the return of the hostess..."
Granted, the heroine (whom I'll refer to as Mrs. deWinter), is very much a doormat. She is exactly the type of person to let herself be pushed into the background. From the servants constant allusions to the way things were done by "Mrs. de Winter" (i.e., REBECCA!), to Mrs. Danvers, the creepy housekeepers obvious ploys to make Mrs. deWinter uncomfortable in her new home. Even Maxim at times made me question her place in her new life. Sometimes he stuck up for her in subtle ways, but more often, he is an absent character, an absent husband, and even as Mrs. deWinter proclaims her immature, everlasting love and devotion, I couldn't help but feel uneasy about him. It seems that there is always some kind of wall between him and his new young wife. Not only is he twice her age, but he holds on to the past too much.
"He did not belong to me at all, he belonged to Rebecca. He still thought about Rebecca. He would never love me because of Rebecca. She was in the house still, a Mrs. Danvers had said; she was in that room in the west wing, she was in the library, in the morning room, in the gallery above the hall...And in the garden, and in the woods, and down in the stone cottage on the beach. Her footsteps sounded in the corridors, her scent lingered on the stairs. The servants obeyed her orders still, the food we ate was the food she liked. Her favorite flowers filled the rooms...Rebecca was still mistress of Manderley. Rebecca was still Mrs. de Winter."
The biggest thing about this novel is that EVERYTHING IS NOT AS IT SEEMS. In fact, almost nothing is as you think it is. And while the first seventy five percent of the book is dedicated to proving how self deprecating and weak willed the heroine is, the last of the book takes all of your preconceptions and throws them into the ocean to drown with Rebecca!!!! Danvers is still creepy and evil, but I think above all, she's just crazy. Maxim isn't at all indifferent or unsympathetic, or even unloving. In fact, at times I think he is more vulnerable than the new Mrs. deWinter.
There are secrets within the halls of Manderley, this gorgeous, sprawling house amid lush gardens and alongside the tumultuous sea. Honestly, I expected that the Gothic manor home would be dark and dreary, spooky and scary, but that was not at all the case. Manderley is actually portrayed as beautiful and refined, a well run and respected estate...almost perfection. It is regarded by the English as near perfection, just as they regarded Rebecca. So the way that you Manderley is described is this:
[image error]
But the FEEL of Manderley is this:
[image error]
Because the overall mystery and suspense behind this book lends a sinister vibe to the de Winter's marriage, turning every word from the servants, their friends, and even each other, into phrases with hidden meaning and hidden agendas. What should have been a triumphant rags to riches story for this young girl left alone in the world who catches the eye of the rich and handsome man...no, no, no...it's twisted into something dark.
I can see how this became one of the defining books of the twentieth century. It's just a bit racier than the older classics, with more romance, more touchy-feely (she puts his hand on his knee, oh my!), more gruesome, and maybe a little less PC. Though definitely not PC by today's standards. But the wording and the prose are much easier to read than many of the classics that I've read recently, and the mystery surrounding Manderley and this odd collection of people is truly captivating. I don't tend to even like mysteries all that much, and let me assure you...above all; the romance and the suspense, this is for sure a mystery. There are revelations upon revelations.
I was bored to tears for about three chapters. And then we travel to Manderley and the plot thickens **insert evil laugh** and before I know it, I'm gasping and making my own little predictions...some that I guess right, and others that are complete shockers. And the END,
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Authors just don't end book like that nowadays...there would be quite the uproar, I think. But when it comes to these old books that paved the way for modern fiction...they were truly in a class all their own.
I'm so glad I finally took the plunge!!!
*********************************************************
This was listed as one of the most popular romance novels ever written, along with Pride and Prejudice.
**Buddy read with Karen, Cathy, Tea, and Dorota**
April 7, 2023
Wow! What an amazing book! First of all, *sigh*– Manderley. Oh, how I’d love to explore such a breathtaking estate!
This story was hauntingly beautiful, eerie, and mysterious. Irrevocably a timeless gothic masterpiece. I immediately fell in love with the words. The lovely sophisticated language accentuated by the new Mrs. de Winter's rolling insecurities made for a most captivating story.
Reliant on the financial compensation as the unfortunate lady companion of the hateful and intrusive Mrs. Van Hopper, our unnamed narrator’s story begins. Wedding Mr. Maxim de Winter so quickly was both liberating and confining as she soon found herself living in the shadow of Rebecca, Maxim’s deceased first wife. Though free of her financial restrictions, she was unintentionally tossed into a new complex situation, one that preyed upon her internal strength. And it was then that her weaknesses began to feed upon her as she attempted to course her way through this new life, through dreadful moments of humiliation and degradation. It was actually pretty heartbreaking being inside the mind of our narrator as she endured cruelty that wreaked havoc on her previously low self-esteem all while she drowned in the constant feeling of inferiority.
Though naïve, inexperienced, and lacking confidence, the new Mrs. de Winter was interesting to follow. I was very empathetic toward her the entire story and was even able to see parts of myself displayed in some of her qualities. She was observant, intuitive, nostalgic, and dreamy.
One of my favorite quotes she said was: “If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again.”
Introspection overcame me with this quote, illuminating my own nostalgic tendencies. I loved it!
A slow thriller it was indeed, but a worthy buildup was necessary in such a story that was harboring a dark twist in the cupboard. Some have stated it is too slow and even lacks suspense, but to that I disagree because stating this book is any less appealing for those reasons would be undeserving. The intricate descriptions and slow pace were what created the eerie buildup and was highly favorable for the time period this book was written in. It does require patience though, something often overlooked in today’s fast-paced technological world! At a certain point (around 75% into the story) it takes off soaring, all the way to the end. It was very difficult to put it down!
The ending was well worth it all. It was fulfilling and empowering and left me with the most pleasant feeling. Perhaps someone inferior can rise above if given the right opportunity and freedom. The ending was also left hanging open for interpretation which was very intriguing! My lasting impression from the story was a solemn reminder—don’t be fooled by someone’s outward persona for an image of indecency may secretly lurk within them.
I did myself the honors of watching the new 2020 Netflix movie Rebecca after finishing the novel, and I must say it was pretty amazing for a film adaptation. Though it obviously lacked the ability to produce that slow eerie buildup as the novel did, it compensated with its visual appeal, suspense, and underlying sinister tones. It also delivered quite a cinematic ending. I very much enjoyed it and recommend giving it a watch even though there were some obvious differences from the book. I personally don’t try to obsessively compare film adaptations of books because they are each their own form of art and what one can do, the other simply cannot. I just try to appreciate them both in their own way because no matter what, it is still so exciting to see the characters and story come to life on a screen!
This story was hauntingly beautiful, eerie, and mysterious. Irrevocably a timeless gothic masterpiece. I immediately fell in love with the words. The lovely sophisticated language accentuated by the new Mrs. de Winter's rolling insecurities made for a most captivating story.
Reliant on the financial compensation as the unfortunate lady companion of the hateful and intrusive Mrs. Van Hopper, our unnamed narrator’s story begins. Wedding Mr. Maxim de Winter so quickly was both liberating and confining as she soon found herself living in the shadow of Rebecca, Maxim’s deceased first wife. Though free of her financial restrictions, she was unintentionally tossed into a new complex situation, one that preyed upon her internal strength. And it was then that her weaknesses began to feed upon her as she attempted to course her way through this new life, through dreadful moments of humiliation and degradation. It was actually pretty heartbreaking being inside the mind of our narrator as she endured cruelty that wreaked havoc on her previously low self-esteem all while she drowned in the constant feeling of inferiority.
Though naïve, inexperienced, and lacking confidence, the new Mrs. de Winter was interesting to follow. I was very empathetic toward her the entire story and was even able to see parts of myself displayed in some of her qualities. She was observant, intuitive, nostalgic, and dreamy.
One of my favorite quotes she said was: “If only there could be an invention that bottled up a memory, like scent. And it never faded, and it never got stale. And then, when one wanted it, the bottle could be uncorked, and it would be like living the moment all over again.”
Introspection overcame me with this quote, illuminating my own nostalgic tendencies. I loved it!
A slow thriller it was indeed, but a worthy buildup was necessary in such a story that was harboring a dark twist in the cupboard. Some have stated it is too slow and even lacks suspense, but to that I disagree because stating this book is any less appealing for those reasons would be undeserving. The intricate descriptions and slow pace were what created the eerie buildup and was highly favorable for the time period this book was written in. It does require patience though, something often overlooked in today’s fast-paced technological world! At a certain point (around 75% into the story) it takes off soaring, all the way to the end. It was very difficult to put it down!
The ending was well worth it all. It was fulfilling and empowering and left me with the most pleasant feeling. Perhaps someone inferior can rise above if given the right opportunity and freedom. The ending was also left hanging open for interpretation which was very intriguing! My lasting impression from the story was a solemn reminder—don’t be fooled by someone’s outward persona for an image of indecency may secretly lurk within them.
I did myself the honors of watching the new 2020 Netflix movie Rebecca after finishing the novel, and I must say it was pretty amazing for a film adaptation. Though it obviously lacked the ability to produce that slow eerie buildup as the novel did, it compensated with its visual appeal, suspense, and underlying sinister tones. It also delivered quite a cinematic ending. I very much enjoyed it and recommend giving it a watch even though there were some obvious differences from the book. I personally don’t try to obsessively compare film adaptations of books because they are each their own form of art and what one can do, the other simply cannot. I just try to appreciate them both in their own way because no matter what, it is still so exciting to see the characters and story come to life on a screen!
March 23, 2013
“Moonlight can play odd tricks upon the fancy, even upon a dreamer’s fancy. As I stood there, hushed and still, I could swear that it was not an empty shell but lived and breathed as it had lived before.”
Rebecca has become one of my favorites, with its heavy atmosphere and setting, mood, its building suspense and tension, and its slowly but effectively told plot. While reading I was reminded of Bronte’s Jane Eyre, as it has many similar elements and qualities. However, I think that the biggest difference lay in the main protagonist. Jane is clearly the star of Bronte’s novel, showing a strength, resolve and independence that is admirable. Here, in Rebecca, it’s not any one person, but Manderley itself that holds influence over all. No, not the mousy narrator, nor ghostly Rebecca, nor sinister Mrs. Danvers, not even complicated, brooding Maxim hold more power than Manderley. Manderley creeps into the conscience of all, having a life of its own. It is a symbol of all the mystery within the novel.
The plot is not complicated, yet the mysteries that come to the surface make it entertaining, and the author does an excellent job of withholding key information to keep us guessing. A young, inexperienced, naïve, young woman marries Maxim De Winter, a mysterious man whose wife had died a year earlier. Stepping into grand Manderlay, our unnamed narrator is clearly in over her head. Within her own mind, she has an overly romanticized image of what life and marriage will be like within these walls. In truth, she barely knows Maxim, and certainly doesn’t know the many other secrets that surround the estate. Manderley is an immense residence, a sprawling estate, and Maxim’s new wife, who comes from a humble, lower class background, is overwhelmed with her new role. She must learn how to manage the place, entertain guests, be the proper host, and, in short, be the new Mrs. De Winter. These are big shoes, indeed, though and she is constantly reminded that she isn’t the other Mrs. De Winter. She’s no Rebecca, seems to be the whispered word from the servants and guests. As Maxim’s sister Beatrice reminds the new Mrs. De Winter, “you are so very different from Rebecca.” For Rebecca De Winter is seemingly more alive than dead, and makes her presence felt. As the narrator tries to adjust to her new life, she learns more about Maxim, Rebecca, and the many secrets from years past.
Another place where De Mauerier excels is in the timing and pacing. What would a Gothic, atmospheric story be without key, unforeseen and unexpected shifts and twists? There are a few key shifts that throw us off a bit and come unexpected. Things aren’t always exactly as they seem; neither are people. There’s also a level of ambiguity about the passage of time and the world between life and death. This is especially evident when the narrator explores the very rooms that Rebecca lived in, the very clothes that she wore, the bed she slept in, even the notebook that she wrote in. It seems that Rebecca is all around.
Rebecca is simply an amazing novel, and a definite read for a rainy, dreary, cold night by the fireside. Also, there is an excellent film version done by Hitchcock (although the plot is altered somewhat).
Definitely recommended!
Rebecca has become one of my favorites, with its heavy atmosphere and setting, mood, its building suspense and tension, and its slowly but effectively told plot. While reading I was reminded of Bronte’s Jane Eyre, as it has many similar elements and qualities. However, I think that the biggest difference lay in the main protagonist. Jane is clearly the star of Bronte’s novel, showing a strength, resolve and independence that is admirable. Here, in Rebecca, it’s not any one person, but Manderley itself that holds influence over all. No, not the mousy narrator, nor ghostly Rebecca, nor sinister Mrs. Danvers, not even complicated, brooding Maxim hold more power than Manderley. Manderley creeps into the conscience of all, having a life of its own. It is a symbol of all the mystery within the novel.
The plot is not complicated, yet the mysteries that come to the surface make it entertaining, and the author does an excellent job of withholding key information to keep us guessing. A young, inexperienced, naïve, young woman marries Maxim De Winter, a mysterious man whose wife had died a year earlier. Stepping into grand Manderlay, our unnamed narrator is clearly in over her head. Within her own mind, she has an overly romanticized image of what life and marriage will be like within these walls. In truth, she barely knows Maxim, and certainly doesn’t know the many other secrets that surround the estate. Manderley is an immense residence, a sprawling estate, and Maxim’s new wife, who comes from a humble, lower class background, is overwhelmed with her new role. She must learn how to manage the place, entertain guests, be the proper host, and, in short, be the new Mrs. De Winter. These are big shoes, indeed, though and she is constantly reminded that she isn’t the other Mrs. De Winter. She’s no Rebecca, seems to be the whispered word from the servants and guests. As Maxim’s sister Beatrice reminds the new Mrs. De Winter, “you are so very different from Rebecca.” For Rebecca De Winter is seemingly more alive than dead, and makes her presence felt. As the narrator tries to adjust to her new life, she learns more about Maxim, Rebecca, and the many secrets from years past.
Another place where De Mauerier excels is in the timing and pacing. What would a Gothic, atmospheric story be without key, unforeseen and unexpected shifts and twists? There are a few key shifts that throw us off a bit and come unexpected. Things aren’t always exactly as they seem; neither are people. There’s also a level of ambiguity about the passage of time and the world between life and death. This is especially evident when the narrator explores the very rooms that Rebecca lived in, the very clothes that she wore, the bed she slept in, even the notebook that she wrote in. It seems that Rebecca is all around.
Rebecca is simply an amazing novel, and a definite read for a rainy, dreary, cold night by the fireside. Also, there is an excellent film version done by Hitchcock (although the plot is altered somewhat).
Definitely recommended!
September 2, 2025
"LAST NIGHT I dreamt I went to Manderley again."
Rebecca. Oh, Rebecca. Why must it always be Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca?
This book was about 100 pages too long, the plot twist was about 100 pages too late, and the unnamed narrator was about as annoying as I can normally stand. It took me a while to get through the first three-quarters of the book. I was bored out of my mind and annoyed most of the time. I don't think I've read anything with such a worthless character being the lead. I wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her more often than not. If I had to read a "'Yes', I said." from Mrs. de Winter one more time, I was going to explode. If I turned it into a drinking game, we would've all died of alcohol poisoning.
The husband was also boring, and apathetic, and I had no idea what she saw in him. I'd understand if she married him for the money--considering it was common back then to marry simply for a bump in status--but she actually loved him, and for absolutely no reason because he never gave her one. It doesn't help that their dynamic was a little gross, considering she was half his age--literally--and he treated her like a child.
Thank goodness I made it to the twist. It got infinitely better after that, as I was more interested in how it played out than annoyed by Mrs. de Winter and her having the backbone of a limp spaghetti noodle. I was starting to lose my mind thinking I'd have to listen to her drivel on and on about the mundane things that ran on repeat in her mind. I'm ultimately satisfied with how it all turned out, but good grief was it a long time getting there. The ending was confusing, and I had to look it up, but I didn't hate it, even if it was a little abrupt. I would've loved to have had more of the head housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, being unapologetic. I think her character's sass and wanting to know her motivation ultimately kept me going.
This is the first book in a while I'd say I don't really recommend--unless you don't mind being bored to tears for a while until it gets to the good part. Granted it was nice to be able to check a classic off my TBR, but I probably should've just watched the movies.
"And the ashes blew towards us with the salt wind from the sea."
Rebecca. Oh, Rebecca. Why must it always be Rebecca, Rebecca, Rebecca?
This book was about 100 pages too long, the plot twist was about 100 pages too late, and the unnamed narrator was about as annoying as I can normally stand. It took me a while to get through the first three-quarters of the book. I was bored out of my mind and annoyed most of the time. I don't think I've read anything with such a worthless character being the lead. I wanted to take her by the shoulders and shake her more often than not. If I had to read a "'Yes', I said." from Mrs. de Winter one more time, I was going to explode. If I turned it into a drinking game, we would've all died of alcohol poisoning.
The husband was also boring, and apathetic, and I had no idea what she saw in him. I'd understand if she married him for the money--considering it was common back then to marry simply for a bump in status--but she actually loved him, and for absolutely no reason because he never gave her one. It doesn't help that their dynamic was a little gross, considering she was half his age--literally--and he treated her like a child.
Thank goodness I made it to the twist. It got infinitely better after that, as I was more interested in how it played out than annoyed by Mrs. de Winter and her having the backbone of a limp spaghetti noodle. I was starting to lose my mind thinking I'd have to listen to her drivel on and on about the mundane things that ran on repeat in her mind. I'm ultimately satisfied with how it all turned out, but good grief was it a long time getting there. The ending was confusing, and I had to look it up, but I didn't hate it, even if it was a little abrupt. I would've loved to have had more of the head housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, being unapologetic. I think her character's sass and wanting to know her motivation ultimately kept me going.
This is the first book in a while I'd say I don't really recommend--unless you don't mind being bored to tears for a while until it gets to the good part. Granted it was nice to be able to check a classic off my TBR, but I probably should've just watched the movies.
"And the ashes blew towards us with the salt wind from the sea."
September 23, 2023
the only book to ever exist actually
May 19, 2019
"I could fight the living but I could not fight the dead"
Our narrator is the companion of Mrs. Van Hopper. During Mrs. Van Hopper's illness (more from wanting attention than from any disease or virus), the narrator meets with Maximilian de Winter, a wealthy Englishman and widower. After a courtship of two weeks, Maxim asks our narrator if she will marry him. Following their honeymoon in Italy, Maxim drives her to his Cornish manse, Manderley.
The narrator, or the new Mrs. de Winter, is a timid, shy, twenty-something, middle class woman. She feels unequal to the responsibilities of directing the running of Manderley. The housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, is devoted to the memory of the first Mrs. de Winter, or Rebecca. Mrs. Danvers, with sinister intent, leaves everything just as if Rebecca is still alive. She subtly suggests that the narrator will never be as cultured and beautiful as Rebecca.
"Little things, meaningless and stupid in themselves, but they were there for me to see, for me to hear, for me to feel. Dear God, I did want to think of Rebecca. I wanted to be happy, to make Maxim happy, and I wanted us to be together. There was no other wish in my heart but that. I could not help if she came to me in thoughts, in dreams. I could not help it if I felt like a guest in Manderley, my home, walking where she had trodden, resting where she had lain. I was like a guest, biding my time, waiting for the return of the hostess. Little sentences, little reproofs reminding me every hour, every day."
The distance and unemotional demonstration of Maxim's love leaves our narrator feeling as if Maxim regrets their hasty marriage. She feels to be in the same likeness as the spaniel, Jasper.
"It was over then. The episode was finished. We [would] not speak of it again. He smiled at me over his cup of tea, and then reached for his newspaper on the arm of his chair. The smile was my reward, like the pat on the head of Jasper. Good dog, then, lie down, don't worry me anymore. I was Jasper again. I was back to where I had been before."
Maxim takes the narrator to the Happy Valley. (I just love the description of the valley.)
"We stood on the slope of a wooded hill, and the path wound away before us to a valley, by the side of a running stream. There were no dark trees here, no tangled undergrowth, but on either side of the narrow path stood azaleas and rhododendrons, not blood-coloured like the giants in the drive, but salmon, white and gold, things of beauty and grace, drooping their lovely, delicate heads in the soft rain. . . . The spell of the Happy Valley was upon me. This was at last the core of Manderley. The Manderley I would know and learn to love."
The narrator questions her relationship with her husband. She questions herself.
"Was it always going to be like this? He away ahead of me, with his own moods which I did not share, his secret troubles that I did not know? Would we never be together, he a man and I a woman, standing shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, with no gulf between us? I did not want to be a child. I wanted to be his wife, his mother. I wanted to be old."
The characterization is in-depth and amazing. The narrator has quite an imagination. She tends to imagine the worst of situations. She worries about things that have not happened. She can scare herself. The twists and turns of the plot and the subplots are compelling and mesmerizing. The atmosphere is gothic and creepy. The mystery is dark and suspenseful. The romance is deviled with misunderstandings and low self-esteem and, in the end, enduring love. Though there were times I wanted to shake the heroine, I thoroughly enjoyed this novel. I highly recommend it.
Our narrator is the companion of Mrs. Van Hopper. During Mrs. Van Hopper's illness (more from wanting attention than from any disease or virus), the narrator meets with Maximilian de Winter, a wealthy Englishman and widower. After a courtship of two weeks, Maxim asks our narrator if she will marry him. Following their honeymoon in Italy, Maxim drives her to his Cornish manse, Manderley.
The narrator, or the new Mrs. de Winter, is a timid, shy, twenty-something, middle class woman. She feels unequal to the responsibilities of directing the running of Manderley. The housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, is devoted to the memory of the first Mrs. de Winter, or Rebecca. Mrs. Danvers, with sinister intent, leaves everything just as if Rebecca is still alive. She subtly suggests that the narrator will never be as cultured and beautiful as Rebecca.
"Little things, meaningless and stupid in themselves, but they were there for me to see, for me to hear, for me to feel. Dear God, I did want to think of Rebecca. I wanted to be happy, to make Maxim happy, and I wanted us to be together. There was no other wish in my heart but that. I could not help if she came to me in thoughts, in dreams. I could not help it if I felt like a guest in Manderley, my home, walking where she had trodden, resting where she had lain. I was like a guest, biding my time, waiting for the return of the hostess. Little sentences, little reproofs reminding me every hour, every day."
The distance and unemotional demonstration of Maxim's love leaves our narrator feeling as if Maxim regrets their hasty marriage. She feels to be in the same likeness as the spaniel, Jasper.
"It was over then. The episode was finished. We [would] not speak of it again. He smiled at me over his cup of tea, and then reached for his newspaper on the arm of his chair. The smile was my reward, like the pat on the head of Jasper. Good dog, then, lie down, don't worry me anymore. I was Jasper again. I was back to where I had been before."
Maxim takes the narrator to the Happy Valley. (I just love the description of the valley.)
"We stood on the slope of a wooded hill, and the path wound away before us to a valley, by the side of a running stream. There were no dark trees here, no tangled undergrowth, but on either side of the narrow path stood azaleas and rhododendrons, not blood-coloured like the giants in the drive, but salmon, white and gold, things of beauty and grace, drooping their lovely, delicate heads in the soft rain. . . . The spell of the Happy Valley was upon me. This was at last the core of Manderley. The Manderley I would know and learn to love."
The narrator questions her relationship with her husband. She questions herself.
"Was it always going to be like this? He away ahead of me, with his own moods which I did not share, his secret troubles that I did not know? Would we never be together, he a man and I a woman, standing shoulder to shoulder, hand in hand, with no gulf between us? I did not want to be a child. I wanted to be his wife, his mother. I wanted to be old."
The characterization is in-depth and amazing. The narrator has quite an imagination. She tends to imagine the worst of situations. She worries about things that have not happened. She can scare herself. The twists and turns of the plot and the subplots are compelling and mesmerizing. The atmosphere is gothic and creepy. The mystery is dark and suspenseful. The romance is deviled with misunderstandings and low self-esteem and, in the end, enduring love. Though there were times I wanted to shake the heroine, I thoroughly enjoyed this novel. I highly recommend it.
May 28, 2021
4.5 stars
Hauntingly atmospheric, Rebecca fully captures the lingering presence of the deceased, and the suffocating dread experienced by the living.
For a novel written in the 1930s, it remains surprisingly genre-bending and unpredictable, mixing Gothic mystery with a dose of police procedural drama. As someone who had studied architecture in the past, I greatly appreciate the extensive, vivid passages on Manderley, which are paramount in setting up mood, as well as manifesting the invisible threat—Rebecca is as much about Manderley the place, as the actual going-ons within it.
Told rather uniquely as a lengthy flashback with an intentionally ambiguous protagonist, Rebecca comes across like a drug-induced dream in slow motion—which could be a turn-off for plot-craving readers—as proven by my reading buddy, who was bored to tears and DNF'd 40 pages in; but I was happily savoring the lyrical writing, and the slow decent into madness triggered by seemingly inoffensive object: handkerchief has never being so menacing. I can nitpick on a couple character developlemt choices (the protagonist being so timid and naive for so long), but as a whole I really enjoyed its unrelenting tone and the morally ambiguous characters.
Additionally, I am now even more impressed by Hitchcock's 19040 film adaptation, which in my opinion perfectly captured the claustrophobic beauty of Daphne du Maurier's text, as well as improved upon a couple narrative splinters.
Overall, Rebecca is a deserved classic that remains completely enjoyable outside of academic analysis (at least for me). I probably wouldn't recommend go into this thinking it's a romance novel, but more of a psychological suspense with romance element—and one with potent lingering power.
Hauntingly atmospheric, Rebecca fully captures the lingering presence of the deceased, and the suffocating dread experienced by the living.
For a novel written in the 1930s, it remains surprisingly genre-bending and unpredictable, mixing Gothic mystery with a dose of police procedural drama. As someone who had studied architecture in the past, I greatly appreciate the extensive, vivid passages on Manderley, which are paramount in setting up mood, as well as manifesting the invisible threat—Rebecca is as much about Manderley the place, as the actual going-ons within it.
Told rather uniquely as a lengthy flashback with an intentionally ambiguous protagonist, Rebecca comes across like a drug-induced dream in slow motion—which could be a turn-off for plot-craving readers—as proven by my reading buddy, who was bored to tears and DNF'd 40 pages in; but I was happily savoring the lyrical writing, and the slow decent into madness triggered by seemingly inoffensive object: handkerchief has never being so menacing. I can nitpick on a couple character developlemt choices (the protagonist being so timid and naive for so long), but as a whole I really enjoyed its unrelenting tone and the morally ambiguous characters.
Additionally, I am now even more impressed by Hitchcock's 19040 film adaptation, which in my opinion perfectly captured the claustrophobic beauty of Daphne du Maurier's text, as well as improved upon a couple narrative splinters.
Overall, Rebecca is a deserved classic that remains completely enjoyable outside of academic analysis (at least for me). I probably wouldn't recommend go into this thinking it's a romance novel, but more of a psychological suspense with romance element—and one with potent lingering power.
January 28, 2019
This is a classic, and for good reason. Daphne du Maurier’s haunting, lyrical prose perfectly sets the atmosphere for a story that is miscast as a romance – it’s much more a thriller or suspense novel. In fact, Manderley itself is the object of more affection in this book than any human being. Its beauty, its flowers, its woods, its rooms and changing scenes – du Maurier lingers lovingly over every detail, while the flesh-and-blood characters sometimes get short shrift. Heck, the narrator never even gets a name!
Du Maurier’s slow buildup through the first half of the novel pays off brilliantly in the second half – especially the last third – showing that not only can she set a scene, she can execute a climax. Really glad I checked this one off my list. Now, on to rewatch Hitchcock’s film version.
Du Maurier’s slow buildup through the first half of the novel pays off brilliantly in the second half – especially the last third – showing that not only can she set a scene, she can execute a climax. Really glad I checked this one off my list. Now, on to rewatch Hitchcock’s film version.
June 17, 2007
I love this book. It's not entirely perfect, but still deserving of five stars (which, for the record, just means "it's amazing").
What's so good about it? The beautiful descriptive writing, the nightmarish, dream tinted atmosphere, the complexity of the life at Manderly involving the well-planned out and delicious sounding meals (and teas, and the ball), the routine and order of the servants, the cars, the descriptions of each sight and smell of the flowers and the sea. The characters are interesting and multi-dimensional: the tortured yet patient Frank; Mrs. Danvers--evil, manipulative, devilish and ghoulish; Max: the brooding, flawed new husband; The Unnamed narrator with all of her insecurities and obstacles to overcome...even Jasper the dog is allowed to be prophetic and telling.
The most prescence of character is of course given to someone who is dead and buried by the time the story plays out--the first mistress of the house--the beautiful, the organized, the talented, and the untouchable Rebecca.
This is a mystery, a drama, a love story, a psychological portrait...it's a perfect set-up for a wonderful novel and the great film that followed. It's a must-read!--my top shelf.
What's so good about it? The beautiful descriptive writing, the nightmarish, dream tinted atmosphere, the complexity of the life at Manderly involving the well-planned out and delicious sounding meals (and teas, and the ball), the routine and order of the servants, the cars, the descriptions of each sight and smell of the flowers and the sea. The characters are interesting and multi-dimensional: the tortured yet patient Frank; Mrs. Danvers--evil, manipulative, devilish and ghoulish; Max: the brooding, flawed new husband; The Unnamed narrator with all of her insecurities and obstacles to overcome...even Jasper the dog is allowed to be prophetic and telling.
The most prescence of character is of course given to someone who is dead and buried by the time the story plays out--the first mistress of the house--the beautiful, the organized, the talented, and the untouchable Rebecca.
This is a mystery, a drama, a love story, a psychological portrait...it's a perfect set-up for a wonderful novel and the great film that followed. It's a must-read!--my top shelf.
November 3, 2020
Is there anything more heartbreaking than the narrator's awkwardness, and deep love for Maxim? And is there anything more heartbreaking than the fact that he's a total asshole who doesn't even realize it?
Saw the old movie ages ago, really liked it, but very excited to see the sexy new people in the sexy new Netflix movie.
Saw the old movie ages ago, really liked it, but very excited to see the sexy new people in the sexy new Netflix movie.
June 20, 2013
Upon finishing my re-read of Rebecca, my initial thought was, "Why wasn't this a favorite of mine before????" This is only the second or third time I've ever re-read a book, and I'm so, so glad I re-read this one. It's now in my top ten, maybe even top five, of all-time favorite novels.
I originally read this classic when I was fourteen, and going into my freshman year of high school, for my honors English course. It seems as though I did thoroughly enjoy this book then, but never had the full appreciation of everything it entailed. Now, fourteen years later, (If you can add, you've probably guessed my age, haha), and married, there is so much more to this story than what I remember. There is so much more I understand about certain dynamics which, at fourteen and not married, I could never have understood before. I think even being an adult, I have come to understand more of what this story entails.
There are some unsettling notions about this story, several creepy moments, and at times, even though I vaguely remembered the outcome and ending, the author had me thinking different things.
This is one story where I truly loved every character. From the new Mrs. de Winter, to Mrs. Van Hopper, (even though she's a witch, I still thought her a great character), Maxim, the wait staff, and even, Mrs. Danvers. They each had their own roles, and I don't think anyone was under or overdone. They all fit perfectly.
The new Mrs. de Winter, for we never know her un-married name, reminded me a lot of myself: shy, meek, quiet, but also, not used to such a grand lifestyle, and being waited on, and the like. (I certainly don't know anything about grand lifestyles, etc.) I felt her actions and her feelings were just in most cases. Though she was a little foolish, (Aren't we all, at times?), at times, I was glad she began to come into her role, and finally kind of stand up for herself a bit. I think people forget the time Rebecca was penned, and women were still seen to be submissive, but also not as prominent, still a little object-like. I really did enjoy this story from her point of view. I don't think it would have worked any other way.
Oh dear, Danny...Mrs. Danvers has to be one of my favorite antagonists. There is something so real about her actions, her demeanor, and her intentions. I mean, forget what happened with "The Dress", you know what I mean if you either read the novel or watched the movie. But, the entire time, Mrs. Danvers is just downright creepy. When she speaks of Rebecca, the way she talks about her, and her treatment of the new Mrs. de Winter, it was so obvious this obsession. It was creepy and even sickening to read at times. Even though she's in my book, evil, I still love her character. She's perfect in that evil antagonistic way.
I'm not usually one for classics, nor lush, over-descriptive writing. However, this is one novel where I absolutely fell in love with the writing. It's been a long time since I've never wanted a novel to end, and when I came upon the last chapter, I dreaded turning the pages. I don't even remember the first line to my all-time favorite book, but the opening line of Rebecca I have never forgotten. This is one of my favorite reads this year, and now and all-time favorite, so far, and one book I'm keeping and re-reading again, and again. I can't wait for my trip back to Manderley......
I originally read this classic when I was fourteen, and going into my freshman year of high school, for my honors English course. It seems as though I did thoroughly enjoy this book then, but never had the full appreciation of everything it entailed. Now, fourteen years later, (If you can add, you've probably guessed my age, haha), and married, there is so much more to this story than what I remember. There is so much more I understand about certain dynamics which, at fourteen and not married, I could never have understood before. I think even being an adult, I have come to understand more of what this story entails.
There are some unsettling notions about this story, several creepy moments, and at times, even though I vaguely remembered the outcome and ending, the author had me thinking different things.
This is one story where I truly loved every character. From the new Mrs. de Winter, to Mrs. Van Hopper, (even though she's a witch, I still thought her a great character), Maxim, the wait staff, and even, Mrs. Danvers. They each had their own roles, and I don't think anyone was under or overdone. They all fit perfectly.
The new Mrs. de Winter, for we never know her un-married name, reminded me a lot of myself: shy, meek, quiet, but also, not used to such a grand lifestyle, and being waited on, and the like. (I certainly don't know anything about grand lifestyles, etc.) I felt her actions and her feelings were just in most cases. Though she was a little foolish, (Aren't we all, at times?), at times, I was glad she began to come into her role, and finally kind of stand up for herself a bit. I think people forget the time Rebecca was penned, and women were still seen to be submissive, but also not as prominent, still a little object-like. I really did enjoy this story from her point of view. I don't think it would have worked any other way.
Oh dear, Danny...Mrs. Danvers has to be one of my favorite antagonists. There is something so real about her actions, her demeanor, and her intentions. I mean, forget what happened with "The Dress", you know what I mean if you either read the novel or watched the movie. But, the entire time, Mrs. Danvers is just downright creepy. When she speaks of Rebecca, the way she talks about her, and her treatment of the new Mrs. de Winter, it was so obvious this obsession. It was creepy and even sickening to read at times. Even though she's in my book, evil, I still love her character. She's perfect in that evil antagonistic way.
I'm not usually one for classics, nor lush, over-descriptive writing. However, this is one novel where I absolutely fell in love with the writing. It's been a long time since I've never wanted a novel to end, and when I came upon the last chapter, I dreaded turning the pages. I don't even remember the first line to my all-time favorite book, but the opening line of Rebecca I have never forgotten. This is one of my favorite reads this year, and now and all-time favorite, so far, and one book I'm keeping and re-reading again, and again. I can't wait for my trip back to Manderley......
August 8, 2009
****SPOILERS FROM BOTH THE BOOK AND THE MOVIE AND JANE EYRE******
After a relatively slow start, once this book hit its climax, the suspense of what would happen next continued to build until it reached a wallop of an ending. My understanding is that there is a tendency to compare this book to Jane Eyre - the orphan who meets a rich man whom she wished to wed, but he holds a horrible secret regarding a former woman in his life. The heroines are similar too - average looking, lonely, and naive, but frankly, Bronte's Jane Eyre can't shine du Maurier's Rebecca shoes when it comes to storytelling. IMHO, Rebecca simply blows Jane Eyre away.
I'm so glad that the movie Rebecca was different from the book. My friend, Sarah, tells me that the endings between the two are different because the book ending was censored from inclusion in the movie. So the movie ends with a fire a la Jane Eyre's crazy Bertha. I guess when all else fails - burn the house down!
Nevertheless, I had been meaning to read this one for a long time, and I'm very glad that I did. Some readers found the unnamed heroine (intentionally done we believe to further cast her in Rebecca's overwhelming shadow) to be naive to the point of annoying, but I didn't. To me, she was a typical 20 something, in love for the first time, who became the mistress of an enormous estate. I'm not sure how many people would have had the strength to step into that role and to take over management of a group servants who weren't impressed and had loyalty to Rebecca, when she had done nothing prior to have built up her confidence. I think that the most interesting twist in the book is not when we find out that Maxim murdered Rebecca, but when we discover that the beautiful Rebecca was nothing but an adulterous, fake, money-grubbing, nasty bitch who was banging her cousin - oy, I never saw that one coming. And good for the author, who gave me a heck of a reason to root for Maxim to get away with murder. Yee ha!
After a relatively slow start, once this book hit its climax, the suspense of what would happen next continued to build until it reached a wallop of an ending. My understanding is that there is a tendency to compare this book to Jane Eyre - the orphan who meets a rich man whom she wished to wed, but he holds a horrible secret regarding a former woman in his life. The heroines are similar too - average looking, lonely, and naive, but frankly, Bronte's Jane Eyre can't shine du Maurier's Rebecca shoes when it comes to storytelling. IMHO, Rebecca simply blows Jane Eyre away.
I'm so glad that the movie Rebecca was different from the book. My friend, Sarah, tells me that the endings between the two are different because the book ending was censored from inclusion in the movie. So the movie ends with a fire a la Jane Eyre's crazy Bertha. I guess when all else fails - burn the house down!
Nevertheless, I had been meaning to read this one for a long time, and I'm very glad that I did. Some readers found the unnamed heroine (intentionally done we believe to further cast her in Rebecca's overwhelming shadow) to be naive to the point of annoying, but I didn't. To me, she was a typical 20 something, in love for the first time, who became the mistress of an enormous estate. I'm not sure how many people would have had the strength to step into that role and to take over management of a group servants who weren't impressed and had loyalty to Rebecca, when she had done nothing prior to have built up her confidence. I think that the most interesting twist in the book is not when we find out that Maxim murdered Rebecca, but when we discover that the beautiful Rebecca was nothing but an adulterous, fake, money-grubbing, nasty bitch who was banging her cousin - oy, I never saw that one coming. And good for the author, who gave me a heck of a reason to root for Maxim to get away with murder. Yee ha!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 2, 2017
My 'mindblowingly well written' shelf fits this masterpiece like a glove. Every sentence is a treat, and I'm convinced I will revisit Manderley again, and again.
July 13, 2020
"Rebecca was dead. Rebecca could not hurt us. She had played her last joke, as Maxim had said. She could do no more to us now."
A leitura deste livro arrastou-se por mais de um mês. Não sei se por ter mais ou menos uma ideia do enredo, ou por ter visto há uns anos a adaptação de 1940 com a Joan Fontaine e o Laurence Olivier (está disponível de forma gratuita no YouTube), a leitura não estava a entusiasmar-me. Mas decidi que tinha de terminar a leitura e aproveitei este fim de semana de caloraça para a adiantar. E se o recomeço custou, depois fui ganhando entusiasmo e queria chegar ao fim da história.
A narrativa começa, a meu ver, de forma um pouco arrastada, talvez por isso o pouco entusiasmo. A segunda Mrs. de Winter é muito pãozinho sem sal, tímida, insegura, com medo de receber visitas e não estar à altura e parece também um cachorrinho de volta de Max. A culpa não é totalmente dela, porque afinal não foi criada/educada para ser uma senhora de Manderley e não tem muita experiência, mas se Max casou com ela é porque viu nela algo que valia a pena, caramba! Não se sabe impor, com medo da Mrs. Danvers (que parece uma assombração, aparece quando menos se espera) e com receio de alterar alguma coisa na mansão pois todos lhe diziam que Rebecca fazia assim ou a Rebeca fazia assado, sem tomar as rédeas de Manderley e o Mr. de Winter também se afasta um pouco e os dois nunca tiveram uma conversa franca antes dos casamento, pois se tivessem tido também não havia "Rebecca" para ninguém 😂
A segunda Mrs. de Winter, que é uma pena não ter nome tia Daphne, vive obcecada com a Rebecca e pensa mais nela do que o próprio viúvo! Até que a maldosa Mrs. Danvers espoleta um acontecimento, levando a segunda Mrs. de Winter a fazer algo que abala toda a narrativa, mas que também faz com que se esclareça que afinal Rebecca não era nenhum anjo e que Maximilian nunca a amou. E quando descobre isto a segunda Mrs. de Winter parece uma tonta e fica toda contente porque ele nunca amou Rebecca! E é também depois de essa sombra se dissipar que a segunda Mrs. de Winter começa a arrebitar e mostrar personalidade própria.
Só que um barco encalha na enseada e por causa disso descobre-se o segredo de Maximilian e começa todo um suspense e terror de ser descoberto, mais para a segunda Mrs. de Winter do que até para o próprio Maximilian. Será que se safam ou Rebecca, mesmo depois de morta, leva a melhor?
O enredo é muito bom e a tia Daphne sabia fazer as coisas, cria uma tensão que muito poucos autores conseguem.
Mas mais ninguém acha estranho a segunda Mrs. de Winter ficar do lado do marido mesmo depois de saber o que ele fez à Rebecca? Não teria medo de que lhe acontecesse o mesmo?
A leitura deste livro arrastou-se por mais de um mês. Não sei se por ter mais ou menos uma ideia do enredo, ou por ter visto há uns anos a adaptação de 1940 com a Joan Fontaine e o Laurence Olivier (está disponível de forma gratuita no YouTube), a leitura não estava a entusiasmar-me. Mas decidi que tinha de terminar a leitura e aproveitei este fim de semana de caloraça para a adiantar. E se o recomeço custou, depois fui ganhando entusiasmo e queria chegar ao fim da história.
A narrativa começa, a meu ver, de forma um pouco arrastada, talvez por isso o pouco entusiasmo. A segunda Mrs. de Winter é muito pãozinho sem sal, tímida, insegura, com medo de receber visitas e não estar à altura e parece também um cachorrinho de volta de Max. A culpa não é totalmente dela, porque afinal não foi criada/educada para ser uma senhora de Manderley e não tem muita experiência, mas se Max casou com ela é porque viu nela algo que valia a pena, caramba! Não se sabe impor, com medo da Mrs. Danvers (que parece uma assombração, aparece quando menos se espera) e com receio de alterar alguma coisa na mansão pois todos lhe diziam que Rebecca fazia assim ou a Rebeca fazia assado, sem tomar as rédeas de Manderley e o Mr. de Winter também se afasta um pouco e os dois nunca tiveram uma conversa franca antes dos casamento, pois se tivessem tido também não havia "Rebecca" para ninguém 😂
A segunda Mrs. de Winter, que é uma pena não ter nome tia Daphne, vive obcecada com a Rebecca e pensa mais nela do que o próprio viúvo! Até que a maldosa Mrs. Danvers espoleta um acontecimento, levando a segunda Mrs. de Winter a fazer algo que abala toda a narrativa, mas que também faz com que se esclareça que afinal Rebecca não era nenhum anjo e que Maximilian nunca a amou. E quando descobre isto a segunda Mrs. de Winter parece uma tonta e fica toda contente porque ele nunca amou Rebecca! E é também depois de essa sombra se dissipar que a segunda Mrs. de Winter começa a arrebitar e mostrar personalidade própria.
Só que um barco encalha na enseada e por causa disso descobre-se o segredo de Maximilian e começa todo um suspense e terror de ser descoberto, mais para a segunda Mrs. de Winter do que até para o próprio Maximilian. Será que se safam ou Rebecca, mesmo depois de morta, leva a melhor?
O enredo é muito bom e a tia Daphne sabia fazer as coisas, cria uma tensão que muito poucos autores conseguem.
Mas mais ninguém acha estranho a segunda Mrs. de Winter ficar do lado do marido mesmo depois de saber o que ele fez à Rebecca? Não teria medo de que lhe acontecesse o mesmo?
March 5, 2015
Re-read during a cold winter night. It was better than ever.
Rebecca is my favorite villainess in all of literature. If I were reborn as satan's spawn in another life, I hope I can be half as terrifying as Rebecca. She eats up and spits out 21-year-old doe-eyed girls for breakfast, she reduces dashing and wealthy men to quibbling babies, and takes as her loyal minion a servant so terrifying that she by all rights should have been the main villain of any novel...ALL WHILE SHE'S DEAD.
Rebecca, I salute thee. You may be a crazy, evil bitch, but I secretly love you and want to be you.
Rebecca is my favorite villainess in all of literature. If I were reborn as satan's spawn in another life, I hope I can be half as terrifying as Rebecca. She eats up and spits out 21-year-old doe-eyed girls for breakfast, she reduces dashing and wealthy men to quibbling babies, and takes as her loyal minion a servant so terrifying that she by all rights should have been the main villain of any novel...ALL WHILE SHE'S DEAD.
Rebecca, I salute thee. You may be a crazy, evil bitch, but I secretly love you and want to be you.
March 13, 2025
this was actually so entertaining like the plot twists were plot twisting so hard??
4 stars <3
4 stars <3
January 5, 2017
This is one of those" everyone should read books"at least that is what I understand it to be. I am not so sure about that. Regardless this was fun to read. I went through bouts of being irritated with our main character ( I see what the author did there) , many bouts of being irritated with her. Not to the point of not wanting to read it, but from the point of being older and watching (reading) a young person make...not so good decisions. I suppose if I were 25 years younger my view might be different. I enjoyed the time and place that was evoked in this novel. I think all of us might yearn for something like it.
At one point
At one point
June 4, 2025
Excellent! kinda everything you want in a moody gothic read. Daphne du maurier’s writing is so lush and mesmerizing, almost makes me wanna live at Manderley lol
September 1, 2017
Rebecca is a thriller and cozy mystery of the highest caliber. The suspense will have you turning pages like the wind. The writing is superb and colorful. The characters are true to life if not a bit exaggerated as required in the style of the plot.
If the English upper class have earned a reputation for reserve in dire situations, this book is a catalog of that behavior. In fact, that is one the keys to this romantic classic. Moodiness is exacted so incredibly well that the reader simply has no idea when and if a character will break down in defeat.
The English class system of the early twentieth century is on display as well as manor living. From the usually dour and at times friendly servants to the jolly and decadent land holders and entitled, life has its expectations of duty and rewards of position. Manderley is palatial and grand amid the oversize landscape. The large rooms are warmed by fires and furnished exquisitely.
Nature is a character unto its own as Rebecca serves well in its depiction of spring and summer in southwestern England: the lovely red rhododendron "trees", roses, sweeping lawns, the suffocation of warm months, and the torrents of rain. The temperamental sea lies below and a small boat bay is arced by a shingle beach.
There were times I felt a twist about to happen. Sometimes I was correct! At the end, DdM thoroughly had me anticipating a different conclusion, but the one she wrote was better and and actually more appropriate.
Rebecca is a classic well-worth your time. Thanks to Andrei Badica (sorry that I can't show the breves!) for writing an exciting review that drew me to this book.
If the English upper class have earned a reputation for reserve in dire situations, this book is a catalog of that behavior. In fact, that is one the keys to this romantic classic. Moodiness is exacted so incredibly well that the reader simply has no idea when and if a character will break down in defeat.
The English class system of the early twentieth century is on display as well as manor living. From the usually dour and at times friendly servants to the jolly and decadent land holders and entitled, life has its expectations of duty and rewards of position. Manderley is palatial and grand amid the oversize landscape. The large rooms are warmed by fires and furnished exquisitely.
Nature is a character unto its own as Rebecca serves well in its depiction of spring and summer in southwestern England: the lovely red rhododendron "trees", roses, sweeping lawns, the suffocation of warm months, and the torrents of rain. The temperamental sea lies below and a small boat bay is arced by a shingle beach.
There were times I felt a twist about to happen. Sometimes I was correct! At the end, DdM thoroughly had me anticipating a different conclusion, but the one she wrote was better and and actually more appropriate.
Rebecca is a classic well-worth your time. Thanks to Andrei Badica (sorry that I can't show the breves!) for writing an exciting review that drew me to this book.
February 17, 2017
I read this at some point when I lived in NY [1991 - 1997] but I don't remember the exact date. OMG I hated this book. I hated everything about it. Even now, when people talk about it, I shudder. Ugh. I am so glad I never had to read this again.
And yes, I know I am in the minority. I know TONS of people L O V E this book. Ugh. No thank you. I will sit in my little corner alone and love how much I despise it.
March 29, 2009
This was a lovely book. From even the first page, du Maurier's writing style engulfed me and made me feel as if I was walking right beside the narrator. That being said, I have to admit that I am disappointed with the way the story played out. With the exception of one event and a few details, nothing happened that I didn't see coming well in advance.
It seems to me that the theme of opposites is highly in play in this novel. Our narrator's first name is never given, however Mr. de Winter claims that it is an unusual and lovely name, but she really has no "identity" of her own. She lives for others, namely Mr. de Winter, not for herself. Yet Rebecca, whose name is rather plain --and please, no screams about this comment, as Rebecca is my own name and I still feel this way!-- has an almost overbearing persona. Rebecca runs her world, being Manderley and her social circle, nobody else. Yet the second Mrs. de Winter exerts nothing of her own personality into the world around her.
However, I will say that I was not disappointed with Mrs. de Winter-2's growth during the book. She started out as a meek and unassuming child, but toward the end of the book she had matured, although not to the point my gender-equality loving self would have liked. But this was a different time, so I can't be too harsh on that front.
I started this book with expectations of a major twist, with the power to knock my socks off, so to speak, but my socks were still firmly on my feet after finishing. I did enjoy the book, and as I said before, the writing style was beautiful and very easy to lose yourself in, but I wasn't amazed by the book as I hoped I would be.
It seems to me that the theme of opposites is highly in play in this novel. Our narrator's first name is never given, however Mr. de Winter claims that it is an unusual and lovely name, but she really has no "identity" of her own. She lives for others, namely Mr. de Winter, not for herself. Yet Rebecca, whose name is rather plain --and please, no screams about this comment, as Rebecca is my own name and I still feel this way!-- has an almost overbearing persona. Rebecca runs her world, being Manderley and her social circle, nobody else. Yet the second Mrs. de Winter exerts nothing of her own personality into the world around her.
However, I will say that I was not disappointed with Mrs. de Winter-2's growth during the book. She started out as a meek and unassuming child, but toward the end of the book she had matured, although not to the point my gender-equality loving self would have liked. But this was a different time, so I can't be too harsh on that front.
I started this book with expectations of a major twist, with the power to knock my socks off, so to speak, but my socks were still firmly on my feet after finishing. I did enjoy the book, and as I said before, the writing style was beautiful and very easy to lose yourself in, but I wasn't amazed by the book as I hoped I would be.
May 29, 2019
The thing that drew me into this story at first was the writing style. I loved Daphne du Maurier’s eloquence when describing a scene, and I could understand why this book was so well received on that alone. Honestly, this would be a five star read if it wasn’t for the beginning of the book, because it starts out pretty slow. You’re just getting to know the characters and understand who they are, because they’re the most important aspects of the story. But as the story goes on it gets progressively better. Their arrival at Manderley was interesting enough, and adjusting to life there was good enough too. And the last 100 pages or so was exceptional, I couldn’t put it down if I wanted to during that stretch. That’s where the mystery really comes crashing down, and after the big reveal of the story it never really slows down. Even the last sentence is full of intrigue. It was one of the better stretches of reading I’ve had in a very long time.
The characters are a bit annoying at times, the narrator can be childish and immature and Maxim can be cold and stoic, but it absolutely works within the context of the story, and I couldn’t picture the characters any other way after finishing it. I wish the beginning and middle was a little faster paced, because the end was unbelievable. It easily would’ve been five stars if that was the case, but for now it’s between 4 and 4.5.
The characters are a bit annoying at times, the narrator can be childish and immature and Maxim can be cold and stoic, but it absolutely works within the context of the story, and I couldn’t picture the characters any other way after finishing it. I wish the beginning and middle was a little faster paced, because the end was unbelievable. It easily would’ve been five stars if that was the case, but for now it’s between 4 and 4.5.
June 22, 2021
Also find this review here - Don't Stop Readin'
"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again."
This is undoubtedly the most haunting opening line of any book ever.
The only mistake I committed was reading Mary Higgins Clark’s A Cry in The Night before Rebecca . They both were eerily similar to each other in the beginning, that was a good book too but this one was miles better.
But good thing their resemblance faded after first 130 pages or so, this book took a more sharper and sinister turn later. Every single thing led to build up an ominous feeling inside you, as if a shadow is following you. I can say I simply loved this book, it was just perfection to me. The writing was disturbingly beautiful and buffed to supremacy.
I recommend this to all mystery/horror fans out there. Rebecca is the epitome of precision, doesn't get any better than this.
Must-read, this one.
"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again."
This is undoubtedly the most haunting opening line of any book ever.
The only mistake I committed was reading Mary Higgins Clark’s A Cry in The Night before Rebecca . They both were eerily similar to each other in the beginning, that was a good book too but this one was miles better.
But good thing their resemblance faded after first 130 pages or so, this book took a more sharper and sinister turn later. Every single thing led to build up an ominous feeling inside you, as if a shadow is following you. I can say I simply loved this book, it was just perfection to me. The writing was disturbingly beautiful and buffed to supremacy.
I recommend this to all mystery/horror fans out there. Rebecca is the epitome of precision, doesn't get any better than this.
Must-read, this one.
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