Rebecca was the literary sensation of 1938. Critics lauded its genius, comparing it to Jane Eyre, and its sales soared, rivaling those of Gone with the Wind, Margaret Mitchell's highly popular novel from two years prior. Some reviewers dismissed Rebecca as a passing fad, spurred on by the news of the film rights selling before publication. However, the majority agreed that it would endure as a remarkable tale of spine-chilling mystery, Gothic aesthetics, and unforgettable characters.
Now, eighty-four years later, Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca has shown no sign of a decline in readership. Arguably, it has become even more iconic and classic than ever before. Like the shadow of Rebecca herself, the book has haunted much of my life. This was my first time truly reading it, but in high school, I played the role of Frith in a stage adaptation. I memorized my lines, but I must have been too preoccupied with backstage antics to pay attention when it wasn't my cue. The details of the plot were almost entirely forgotten, yet certain fragments of dialogue would trigger memories from over a decade ago.
With "memory" being a recurring theme in the novel, specifically the desire to preserve or repress it, there was a mysterious extra layer to my reading experience. Certainly, there are memories from back then that I would love to save, and others that I would prefer to erase. Now, at least, I can appreciate du Maurier's words. There is no doubt that Rebecca is a masterpiece of creative writing, regardless of one's feelings about the plot. Both Mrs. de Winters are extraordinary characters, despite one not having a name and the other not having a physical presence.
Mrs. Danvers is a legendary villain. I don't remember which of my friends played her in our school play, but I'm sure she didn't do her justice. I doubt anyone could. Mrs. Danvers is an entire feeling. She creates an oppressive atmosphere when she enters a room. Her touch conveys a message. Her subtext is cryptic and open to interpretation. All of this is just as important as the actual words she says, and you can only get those feelings from the book.
Mrs. Danvers is so menacing that Stephen King, the great master of horror, chose instead to simply evoke her name in Bag of Bones. The effect is truly chilling. The descriptions in the novel are superb. Pay close attention to the details of flowers, trees, and other natural elements. When anxiety is high, du Maurier might describe the flowers as "blood-red" and aggressive, as if they are in cahoots with the characters. At times of peace, she might allow their fragrant scent to diffuse the tensions. But usually, there is something sinister lurking beneath the pleasant exterior. Just like Manderley and its many secrets.
Impressively, the novel continues to captivate even after the "twist." Once a mystery is solved, there is often little left to do but grudgingly plod on to the inevitable conclusion. In this case, however, the conclusion is anything but inevitable. Those familiar with the long history of Gothic novels might have their suspicions about where things will end up, but there is no way to be certain until the very last sentence.
Beyond Daphne du Maurier's written work, it cannot be overlooked how impressive the novel is as a source of inspiration. The shadow of Rebecca can be seen in hundreds of Gothic romances written in the 1960s and '70s, and probably in most works in the genre even today. Of course, not all of the credit goes to Rebecca, as it utilizes many of the elements long established by the Bronte sisters, Ann Radcliffe, and other earlier Gothic masters. Still, for a genre that is so derivative and repetitive, Rebecca stands out as a landmark of originality.