In the constant effort to broaden my knowledge of literature, this summer I decided to finally pick up a book that’s sat on my shelf for ages: Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier. While I usually stay in my lane of realistic fiction or romance, I’ve always been intrigued by Gothic fiction novels. I actually love the whole idea of Gothic fiction and its aesthetic, and I find its history be very interesting, but sometimes the plot doesn’t really do it for me. I’m not a huge fan of horror or suspense in general (I scare easily, sue me), and can find the genre to be a little tedious, but something about Rebecca was calling my name. Originally published in 1938, I knew du Maurier’s hit novel would be a quite different from my usual style of reading, but I was ready for a change. If you’ve been thinking about reading Rebecca, please enjoy my detailed, spoiler-free review of this classic novel!
Plot: 4.8/5
The story’s plot was a tad bit confusing at first, as we start the novel by describing a dream. It’s not that du Maurier didn’t establish the fact that we were listening to a dream, because she did, but there was something about the way it was written that didn’t click at first. The narrator, whose name we never learn, describes her and her husband’s estate, Manderley. At first I was confused as to why we were describing a home in such detail, but you quickly come to learn just how integral Manderley is to the plot.
The narrator soon jumps to her past and describes the story of how she meets her now-husband, the wealthy Mr. Maxim de Winter. Mr. de Winter is quite the guarded and cagey character (red flag, hello!) and doesn’t share much about his past — but what we do know is that he’s recently widowed. His wife, Rebecca, had drowned in a sailing accident a year ago, and Mr. de Winter is clearly still very affected by his her death. Sorry ladies, I don’t know about you, but I would not be drawn to this strange man, regardless of how much money he has.
Well, as a shock to no one, the unnamed narrator and Mr. de Winter end up getting hitched after a short amount of time knowing each other — yay! Our unnamed narrator is now officially Mrs. de Winter, and it’s time for the newlyweds to head to Manderley to start this new chapter of their lives together. Manderley, as gorgeous as it is, has a strange and cold air to it, and Mrs. de Winter immediately picks up on this. While her instincts are telling her that something is off, she just keeps telling herself it’s because the staff at the estate is still mourning the loss of Rebecca, and that change is hard! Sure, let’s go with that…
To keep a long story short (and to avoid spoilers), the new Mrs. de Winter repeatedly attempts to acclimate to her new life, but there are these constant hiccups that prevent her from truly feeling at home. Maybe it’s the staff at Manderley, maybe it’s Mr. de Winter’s unresolved trauma, but whatever it is, it’s clear that Rebecca’s presence is still lingering throughout the estate, and that’s causing some problems for Mrs. de Winter.
I loved the plot. It was mysterious, spooky, and brilliantly written. Never did the book feel like it was poorly written or rushed (sometimes it was a little too slow), and every single detail had a purpose. Finding out more about Rebecca and her relationship with Mr. de Winter was so juicy and engaging; I wanted to know every single excruciating detail about these people. It wasn’t even salacious or risqué, it was just generally so interesting to find out more about these mysterious characters. However, the ending was not what I was expecting. This isn’t to say I thought it was bad or didn’t like the ending, but it definitely was not what I was expecting. If I could slightly tweak the ending for a little more closure, I would, but it was still a decently satisfying conclusion.
Characters: 5/5
The four main characters you need to care about are the new Mrs. de Winter, Mr. de Winter, Rebecca, and Mrs. Danvers, the head housekeeper at Manderley.
The narrator is probably the character who is shrouded in mystery the most, and it simultaneously made me appreciate the character more, while also making me want to scream. She doesn’t even have a first name, which is such a wonderfully brilliant social commentary of how women at the time were seen and treated, but also, that can be just a little aggravating at times when I wanted to connect with her. All we know is that she’s in her early twenties working as a companion to a rich American woman when she meets Maxim, and that’s pretty much it. I want to know more about this girl, I want to build a better understanding and appreciation for her, and I understand why we don’t get all these details, but that still doesn’t make it any less irksome. Her physical traits are vague at best, and she’s honestly pretty bland and lacks a personality, but something about her made me want to care. Maybe it’s because we’re similar in age, maybe it’s because I pity her, or maybe it’s ultimately du Maurier’s ability to flesh out characters — I’m not sure. But what I do know is that the narrator could’ve been as exciting as watching paint dry if done poorly, but her indistinctness is terrifically done.
In the nicest way possible, it really takes a lot for me to care about any sort of male character. I’m sorry, but it’s true! I find that male characters can be so insufferable or boring (I feel like there’s no in between), and they’re somehow the worst person you’ve ever met or interacted with. They’re either too annoying, sexist, stupid, or just really weird and off-putting? I don’t know, but I don’t generally care for many male characters. That being said, Mr. de Winter was an intriguing character! He was a mysterious man, and arguably a walking red flag of a person, but his enigmatic nature is what drew me in: Why are you like this? What made you act this way? Have you always been so distant? Did I like him? As a literary character, absolutely — but if he was a real person I’d have to interact with, I wouldn’t ever want to get to know him. He’s a 42-year-old reclusive widower. I have nothing in common with this man, and I have no desire to get to know him any better. I would run for the hills if we ever actually crossed paths. But as a character, he was interesting enough for me to care.
Our titular character did not disappoint! She was full of surprises and was decently complex for a female character at the time. For being a ghostly figure and having such a looming presence for being a deceased character that we only learn about in stories and flashbacks, she felt very much alive and present. Rebecca was all over Manderley, and her impact was a strong one. Probably to no one’s surprise, she was my favorite character in the novel. I love a complex woman, and I love a woman that haunts a narrative. Everywhere you go, you see traces of Rebecca, whether you want to or not, and that’s fierce! She was basically revered by all of Manderley’s staff, and I love that a woman was able to command and demand respect, while still also being able to be gentle. She was a woman in charge, and I deeply admire that.
Mrs. Danvers was probably my least favorite character, but you’re not supposed to like her, so props to du Maurier for creating such an unlikeable character that I wanted to keep seeing more of. She was so bad, like evil-bad, that she was great. I love an antagonist, or just an intentionally unlikeable character (unless they’re a man, then please stay away) because there’s something so fun about truly being mean and not caring. Do you know how badly I would love to say every thought that pops into my head? It’s my dream, honestly. Mrs. Danvers does not care for the narrator whatsoever, and I love that she’s unabashedly a hater. Her use of mind games against the narrator is so entertaining, I truly wish I was that smart (but not evil, I’d never do that to another person, but I wish I was clever enough to think of something like that). You live your life, you wicked woman! I can only envy the level of not caring that you’ve achieved.
Pacing: 4.5/5
I’ll be honest: the pacing can be a tad slow at times, but I understand why du Maurier decided to take her time at certain points in the novel. Overall, it never felt like it dragged, thankfully, but I can understand why someone might say the book needs to pick up the pace. And that’s totally a valid criticism! I personally really appreciated the thorough world-building, even if I wanted to know more details about other aspects of the novel that weren’t given to me. The setting felt very real — which it should, because it takes place in Cornwall, England, which is an actual place — but I’ve read far too many books that have settings that are real places but do not feel realistic or tangible at all. I felt like I was at Manderley and like I knew the landscape of the grounds and could really visualize what Mrs. de Winter was experiencing. Maybe I didn’t need to know so many details about the narrator’s time in Monte Carlo with her companion (where the novel starts), but I don’t think the visceral nature of the story would’ve been possible if the pacing wasn’t so slow and detailed.
In the words of connor Franta, “read a book!”
Pacing aside, this book truly was excellent. In a time where our regular and media literacy seems to be dwindling and no one seems to care about critical thinking, we all need to put down our phones and pick up a book. I hate to admit it, but my parents were right, it is the damn phones. I can’t keep doom-scrolling for hours on end at night — it’s so detrimental to my mental and physical health, and I can feel the negative impact it’s having on me. I’ve always loved reading, and as indecisive as I am, I know I made the right choice picking up Rebecca. This book was so engaging and well-written, and the plot was so clever and sharp that I was eating it up.
I don’t completely agree with the beliefs that all classics are good because they’re classics, and that you must read a classic for the sake of it being a classic (I’m looking at you, Lord of the Flies and Of Mice and Men), but Rebecca truly is so good that we should be making those arguments in favor of reading this book. A female author dominating a traditionally male genre? Sign me up — especially if the story is about the complexities of being a woman in society, and how to navigate finding your own way while living in the shadow of someone else. If you want a suspenseful read about a woman trying to adjust to a new life where she’s not welcomed, then I recommend giving Rebecca a chance. Even if that’s not what you’re looking for, I advocate for you to branch out and try something new! You never know, you might just end up loving it.