Rebecca is often presented as a gothic novel, but it’s actually hard to pin down the genre. It has some gothic elements, some suspenseful elements, a marriage plot. Ultimately, I would characterize it as psychologically suspenseful litfic. The psychological suspense relates to the narrator, who remains unnamed for the entirety of the book. Twenty-one at the start of the novel, she is working as a lady’s “companion” in Monte Carlo, when she meets and falls in love with widower Maxim de Winter, and they marry within weeks of meeting.
When Maxim and the narrator return to Maxim’s estate of Manderley, the narrator becomes haunted by the psychological specter of Rebecca, the late Mrs. de Winter. Very little changes at Manderley, and everyone talks so lovingly of Rebecca, and the narrator can do nothing but compare herself to this ghost and assume that everyone else is doing the same—including Maxim. She loves Maxim dearly, though he often treats her paternally; on more than one occasion she compares his treatment of her to the absent-minded affection he gives their dog. He does eventually give a rationale for this, though I didn’t really buy it.
The author of the afterword in the version I read notes that long after the book is closed, modern readers will be remembering the character of Rebecca more than anyone else, that they are drawn to her more than the narrator. Not so for me. Rebecca is painted at various times in the book as either a paragon or a villain. There is no in-between and very little idea of who she really was, so honestly I didn’t really care about her except as she affected the narrator. Instead, I was much more connected to the narrator, and I felt so much for her—though not necessarily with her. I felt dread during a particular chapter when she was so excited, and I knew that her expectations were about to be dashed; I felt pity and sympathy for her fantasies of what her life would be like that I knew wouldn’t happen. I felt frustration for her mousiness and inability to have a spine.
This is a slow-paced novel until about the last 20-30%, when the speed really ramps up, but I was engaged from the beginning. Du Maurier quietly builds tension, often using nature imagery to reflect the narrator’s experience (e.g., Rebecca’s beloved rhododendrons are very in your face at times). I admit I also went in with certain expectations because of the book’s being spoken about as being gothic, so I was waiting for events to happen that didn’t. But this is still a book that pulls you along, and I was gripped for the last 20% or so.
I really loved this book. It was so captivating and so well-written. While some of the characters may have felt a bit flat, I expect the narrator and the overall feel of the book will stick with me. If you’ve been wanting to read more classics, this is a great one to try.
