Gripping gothic novel worthy of its high reputation

It’s been a long time since I wrote a ‘The Reading List’ review, so it seemed appropriate to return with a novel I’d been meaning to read for a long time. This novel famously opens with the protagonist returning to Manderley in a dream. This first line is one of literature’s best known, and I’m amazed I’d never really followed it up! At some point I had tried it, but not got beyond the first few pages. Now that I’ve read it, I’m amazed I only got so far, as it is one of the most gripping books I’ve read! I know that ‘gripping’ is one of my favourite compliments to give books, but it really is incredibly appropriate here.

Part romance, part crime, du Maurier is a master at building suspense and dread, plunging her protagonist into the twists and turns of her narrative. It is almost a story about narrative, or rather the narratives we create for ourselves. The protagonist spends much of the novel imagining dire situations or unfavourable interpretations of the actions of those around her. She is a believable and relatable character for the way she spins stories and scenarios in her head – something I think we all do at times. But her predecessor, the first Mrs de Winter, is as much obsessed by narrative, except that this one is externalised – the vision of a happy marriage and kind woman she puts across to the world. The contrast between the two wives is the heart of the novel, and du Maurier reflects this in how she writes.

Published in 1938, the book has quite a cinematic feel, matching the tone and in some ways plot that we’d expect of a movie of its time. It is raised above melodrama by the insightful portrayal of the protagonist and her inner life. We never know her name, in contrast to Rebecca, whose name has such power over the protagonist and other characters. This helps to present her as something of an every-woman, and yet she is highly individualised. It is her we view all the other characters through, and she could almost be said to be a self-inflicting unreliable narrator, as du Maurier deftly crafts the novel through the lens of her shyness and paranoia.

The plot itself may not surprise those with a familiarity with the genre, and many people may have seen one adaptation or another. I’ve only seen the Netflix version, which is perhaps best forgotten (and I now realise differs from the novel in some ways). But even if you think you know the story, I would encourage you to read the book. It’s far more interesting, intense, and insightful than you might expect.

So all in all I am glad I finally got round to reading this one, and I can totally understand why it has drawn so much praise for so many years. I would highly recommend reading it, particularly if you’re interested in crime writing.

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Have you read Rebecca? And have you seen any of the adaptations? I’d love to hear your thoughts on both, and your recommendations on the adaptations!