by Daphne DuMaurier

This is a Classic written in 1938 that has the poetic feeling of stories written in the Victorian and Edwardian eras. The story starts out with a tone of remembrance about a place called Manderley. You can hear a sadness in the 'voice' of the first person narrator, even without knowing anything about the person whose memories we're about to experience. We are never given her first name, but she soon becomes known as the second Mrs. de Winter.

 

In some ways the first couple of chapters seemed a little slow and I found it hard to identify with the main character, who is far too shy and self-deprecating. Yet I found myself being drawn in to her story and although I thought Max de Winter was a real beast to her, I approved of the choice she made and in the same circumstances, I'm sure I would have done the same thing. She did love him after all, despite his gruff ways, and choices for women in that time were very limited. I might well have strangled her employer.

 

I wasn't quite halfway through when I noticed hints that certain assumptions about things at Manderley might not be as they seemed. What unfolded had some real surprises in store.

 

I couldn't identify with the second Mrs. de Winter at all, yet I found myself drawn into the story and wanting to see what happened. Her mental scenarios of how things might turn against her became silly and there were times I wanted to slap her and tell her to do something other than what she was doing. My biggest complaint would be the ending. If this book had been published recently, I would expect a sequel to tell me what happened after the ending events. A lot of questions about what would follow were left unanswered. Other people have tried writing sequels, but they haven't caught my interest.

 

I'm giving this 4 stars because the quality of the writing is superb, but in fact I didn't like any of the characters. I do have to admit that they were well defined though, and I will probably read more of DuMaurier because of the quality of her writing.

Considered by some to be Daphne Du Maurier's most feminist novel, "My Cousin Rachel" follows the story of wealthy orphan Philip Ashley, and his two cousins - Ambrose and Rachel.
Due to health, Ambrose spends his winters in warmer climates, leaving his cousin (young adult, Philip) in charge of his vast estate. While in Italy Ambrose falls in love with and marries Rachel, but letters sent home suggest that Rachel may be trying to poison Ambrose. Philip heads to Florence only to discover Ambrose is dead and Rachel has gone.
Rachel arrives in the Cornish estate soon after Philip's return. She appears to be a lovely woman, cultured, intelligent and unlike the few women Philip has encountered. She overcomes his anger at Ambrose's death with her intriguing gentleness and Philip finds himself falling in love with her.
The tension comes from not knowing whether Rachel is manipulating Philip or Philip is misinterpreting her words and actions. In many ways it's a tragic love story, while in other ways it's a story about a woman trying to negotiate her way in a world determined to misunderstand and control her. I enjoyed it very much.

This book has been described as gothic, and also as romantic suspense and mystery. It has elements of literary fiction was well in its deep interiority. I read it for the first time decades ago, when I was fifteen. Reading it again, I realized I’d held it unconsciously in the back of my mind as the model for a mystery in the sense that the mystery is Rebecca herself. Who was she? What was her true nature? What was her relationship with Maxim? What were her secrets? What secrets do others know about her?

 

Remarkably, I remembered the big revelations. I can reread some mysteries I haven’t looked at for several years—five or ten, not the forty that have intervened since I read Rebecca—and have no idea “who done it,” but that may be because they had less emotional impact. Emotion enhances memory.

 

I’d forgotten most of the details, though, so this second reading was fresh in many ways, and this time I was reading with an author’s attention to craft. I admired how du Maurier builds suspense with environmental detail. Sometimes the weather is bit too sympathetic with the events, or the flowers too obviously symbolic, but overall the effect is immersive and moody.

 

She develops relationships and meaning through seemingly superficial interactions. And there is a great deal of suffocating superficiality in the upper class lifestyle that bewilders and intimidates the second Mrs. De Winter.

 

I was intrigued by du Maurier’s choice to begin with a dream and then a day in the life of the narrator and her husband after the events of the story. We already know from the outset that this is their future. This allows the end to be dramatic, an abrupt surprise without the customary denouement. The reader is left to fill in a few details, but the early chapters have let us know what happens at some distance from that night. The author chose a slow (not dull, slow) beginning over a slow end.

 

The end is foreshadowed early in the book, and so is the big secret. While they’re still courting, Maxim loans his future second wife (the nameless narrator) a book of poetry she finds in his car. The first poem she reads is about being pursued by a hell hound. Not exactly a romantic gift, but it’s inscribed to him from Rebecca. Before marrying him, the narrator cuts out the first wife’s inscription and burns it.

 

A few things about the book are dated, such as beginning with a dream. The term “idiot,” used repeatedly to describe Ben, a man with an intellectual disability, is jarring. But as a period piece, it portrays the times well, especially women’s roles and the assumptions made about class by those who are immersed in class-based society.

 

The protagonist’s namelessness is bit contrived, but it suits her lack of a strong identity except as a wife. Her artistic abilities are dismissed by others as a nice hobby, and she seems to lose interest in creating art as soon as she gets married except for sketching her costume for the fancy dress ball. Her life is about her marriage and her husband. If she weren’t that sort of woman, the rest wouldn’t be possible. Her devotion to him when he reveals his secret is almost as disturbing as the secret itself. How it affects her and changes her is only possible if she starts out as timid and lacking confidence as she does. And her timidity also prevents her from taking actions and asking questions a more confident person would have, and which would have prevented many of her troubles. She endures Mrs. Danvers. She fears her. She doesn’t ask simple questions, such as what Ben means about never saying anything, or why Mrs. Danvers is suddenly being helpful and suggesting a costume.

 

The narrator shows herself to be brave and compassionate occasionally, such as the time she defies Maxim to make sure their dog is all right, and when she feels real concern for servants. She’s more comfortable visiting her maid’s mother than people like the Bishop’s wife.

 

Later, once she knows the big secret, she finds it easy to be severe with servants. To picture herself as the mistress of the great house, taking on its routines and responsibilities. Nothing scares her because she has new confidence in being loved. Not in her own abilities, but in her identity as wife.

 

In this process, she loses her fear of Mrs. Danvers, whose identity is totally invested in her closeness to Rebecca. When Rebecca is dethroned as a memory, the power dynamic changes between the second Mrs. De Winter and the housekeeper. They’re surrogates for Maxim and Rebeca in their power struggle, one that carries on after Rebecca’s death.

 

Maxim’s character is shown for what it is when Rebecca’s is revealed. He’s strong but not heroic. He valued his great house and his reputation and so endured the painful bargain of his marriage. He shows himself to be incredibly adept at taking risks that end up in his favor and being cool in situations that would crack another person. The second Mrs. De Winter proves love is blind. Their relationship is powerful but not admirable. I felt empathy for the narrator at first, when she was shy, lost and confused, overwhelmed by her new circumstances, but she changed. In twenty-four hours, as Maxim notes, the young, lost look he loved is gone.

So this to me is not a typical Daphne du Maurier novel. There are hints of some Gothic elements here and there with a curse being flung about. But other than that, du Maurier just follows along following five generations of the Brodrick family from 1820 to 1920 following five of the male characters from the Brodrick family. I have to say that from beginning to end the tale of "Hungry Hill" is going to grab you. And you start to wonder if a curse is really what is affecting certain members of the family or is it simply fate? I loved the writing, the character development, the setting, and ultimately the ending. It seems that in the end, the last male surviving member of that family has changed his family's fate.

 

"Hungry Hill" starts off following a man that is named Cooper John (due to the cooper mine he opens up on Hungry Hill). Cooper John is a widower with two sons (Henry and John) and three daughters. Cooper John is focused on enlarging his family's castle called Clonmere and having enough money left to take care of his children's children. I don't think that Cooper John was a bad man, but he is very black and white on things and he loves his children though he is often left confused and frustrated with his second eldest son, also named John. From there, du Maurier follows the rest of the family line and the book is broken up into parts. From Cooper John we follow Greyhound John, Wild Johnnie, Henry, Hal, and finally we go into the last book called The Inheritance.

 

 

I have to say that all of the sections were fascinating. I don't think you will come away liking most of the people in this book, but you will love reading about them. I think my favorite book though had to be the one with Henry. My least favorite (as much as one was my least favorite) was the one with Hal. I don't want to get into talking too much and spoiling things, but you have to wonder at times if only so and so happened this may have meant a different fate for the characters that follow. Except for the character of Greyhound John, I don't think that any in the Brodrick family loved the land truly. And even then with him, he lost interest in it as soon as he finally gets the woman he has desired. 

 

The Donovan family is another big piece of this book and we find out at the beginning of the book, Cooper John's grandfather was shot in the back by a Donovan. And the Donovan's of the present seem focused on ruining Cooper John and his family's fortune. There seems to be parts superstition and just plain rage towards the Brodrick's and I wonder if du Maurier contemplated showing their side of the story at all. 

 

The writing was so good. I honestly felt sad when I got to the end. I would have loved to read on about this family past the 1920s. The flow was great too. From book to book it makes sense who we follow and why and I always loved books where I can follow characters through decades.

The setting of this book is Ireland in the late 1800s and the first World War. I have to say that it read as different to me than what I expected. I don't know what I thought about Ireland back then, but I honestly didn't know anything about cooper mines existing there. 

The ending of the book though gives a glimmer that a new change is finally coming to the Brodrick clan and with that the end of the supposed curse. 

„Oberża na pustkowiu” Daphne du Maurier to jedna z 25 pozycji polecanych na plażę w dwumiesięczniku Książki 3/2019. Piwowska seria KIK zawsze trzymała nie najgorszy poziom, sprawdziłem na Allegro i trafiłem za jakieś grosze (12,50 wraz z przesyłką). Tak książka trafiła do mojej biblioteczki. Było to pierwsze moje spotkanie z Daphne du Maurier, i muszę przyznać całkiem udane. Książka napisana w 1936 roku, ale niczym nie ustępuje współczesnym thrillerom. Anglia XIX wieku, wybrzeże Kornwalii, torfowiska, miłość, przestępstwo, zdrada i wszystko inne, co można wcisnąć i świetnie opisać barwnym językiem. Tu brawa dla tłumacza Wacławy Komarnickiej. Książka przedstawia historię dziewczyny Mary, która po śmierci matki udaje się, do swojej ciotki zamieszkującej z demonicznym wujem. W tym czasie w Anglii kobieta nie mogła posiadać nieruchomości, a i bicie kobiet było dozwolone pod warunkiem, że kij nie będzie grubszy od kciuka mężczyzny. Książki streszczać nie będę, bo przecież to thriller, a nie chcę odbierać innym przyjemności spotkania się z twórczością Daphne du Maurier. Polecam, choć już trudno o czytanie na plaży, ale jesienne słoty bardziej przybliżą klimat książki dziejącej się gdzieś między listopadem a styczniem.