Genre: Classic, mystery/suspense
Series: Standalone (there is a sequel written by someone else, but based on the Goodreads rating of 3.04, it shouldn't exist.)
Page Count: 380
Publication Year: 1938
Publisher: Originally published by Victor Gollancz, my edition was published by Avon Books.
Summary: A marriage, a mansion and a mystery.
Since the narrator does not have name, I shall call her…Pumpkin.
Okay. Let’s go.
Pumpkin is a lady’s companion when she meets Maxim, a recent widower. Pumpkin falls in love with Maxim and he’s like, “Well, you love me. Wanna get married and live on my estate Manderley?” and she’s like, “Uhhh, okay.” The story goes from there.
It’s a slow opening, focusing on Pumpkin settling into her role at Manderley and all the struggles that brings. I don’t mind slow beginnings if they are written well, which this is. The shadow of Maxim’s dead first wife, Rebecca, is what drives the first two-thirds of the book. Pumpkin’s love for Maxim is tested as she encounters many things and people associated with Rebecca and she’s forced to face the idea that Maxim might still love Rebecca.
I don’t really like the story because it relies heavily on Pumpkin being passive and naive, neither of which are endearing qualities. The rest of the plot happens because of coincidence and luck. No matter how talented a writer the author is, there’s got to be something besides the prose that I can latch on to. I would be interested in returning to it in another ten years to see if my perspective of Pumpkin and her problems alters.
Pumpkin is a doormat. Her employer in the beginning treats her like garbage and she just takes it. In Manderley she’s in an awkward place which isn’t helped by her refusal to take charge of anything. She wants to put some flowers in a different spot but when the servant says that Rebecca always put them over here, she folds like a beach chair. Repeatedly she’s told how Rebecca did things and she rarely has the guts to say, “Rebecca’s dead and I’m in charge now.” She can’t even do something minor like rewrite the labels on the desk so as not to be reminded of Rebecca’s penmanship.
Her lack of gumption stems from her introversion, which I understand. I also am an introvert but some of the stuff Pumpkin puts up with I would not. Pumpkin should’ve told Maxim is wasn’t her idea to wear the dress. And then she should’ve told him that Mrs. Danvers tried to make her commit suicide. She has moments when she starts to voice her troubles but once the conversation focuses directly on her issue, she backs down and it’s very frustrating. If she’d been able to stick to her guns and do a little redecorating, she would’ve landed in less of a hot soup.
But I do like how Pumpkin’s vivid imagination plays such a large role. She pictures Maxim and Rebecca in their old life and imagines conversations between them, servants, and other random people. Pumpkin’s daydreams have such an impact that they skew what is actually going on.
I wondered how many people there were in the world who suffered, and continued to suffer, because they could not break out from their own web of shyness and reserve, and in their blindness and folly built up a great distorted wall in front of them that hid the truth. This was what I had done. I had built up false pictures in my mind and sat before them. I had never had the courage to demand the truth. Had I made one step forward out of my own shyness Maxim would have told me these things four months, five months ago.
Maxim is not a desirable husband. He’s not physically abusive, but he doesn’t show a loving personality either. He can be curt with Pumpkin and dismissive of her. He doesn’t explain his past with Rebecca, which would’ve saved some trouble later. For about two-thirds of the book we’re given next to no indication that he loves Pumpkin. Once they get to Manderley he barely pays her any attention and doesn’t try to help with the sudden adjustment. I think he’d make a better bachelor.
One random question: how does Maxim make money? It mentions tenants, a farm, tours of Manderley and selling apples, but can that really be it? It’s something I always wonder about the Maxims, Mr. Darcys and Rochesters. That, and what in the world do they do to fill their day?
Pumpkin and Maxim’s romance is…well…no. He’s forty-two and she’s roughly twenty, which I think is gross. One problem is that Pumpkin doesn’t have anyone to advise her in this “romance.” So she meets this man who’s comparatively nice to her and spends time with her and she falls for it. No one is there to say, “Look, Pumpkin, this guy’s been married before and it messed him up. Are you sure you want to deal with that?” Or even, “Pumpkin, this guy’s old enough to be your father and you barely know him. What are you thinking?” She’s had no experience with courtship and she is even less able to critically examine this offer before taking the huge leap. And let’s not forget Maxim’s unfortunate pet name of “child” and him patting her on the head like a dog. Pumpkin is a prime example of why you don’t marry someone who’s twice your age, recently widowed, and practically a stranger.
Mrs. Danvers, Manderley’s housekeeper, should’ve been fired after Rebecca died. I don’t care how efficient she is, she’s not the kind of person you want in your life. Maxim really should’ve considered whether keeping someone intensely loyal to Rebecca was a good idea. She doesn’t like Pumpkin, she obsesses over Rebecca, she causes deliberate grief, and she’s just straight-up creepy. No one in their right mind would look at Mrs. Danvers and say, “This is the kind of employee I want in charge.”
No matter how much I dislike most of the cast, they are believable. All that they do fits with their personality, and they all have a personality, which is really impressive. This is one of the most fully-realized casts I’ve ever read which is even more impressive since the author was only thirty-one when she wrote it.
Characters aside, the other prominent element is the atmosphere. Manderley and its grounds become their own character, crawling over the story and choking Pumpkin’s nerves only to sprawl unconquered to the sea. Nothing is left out of Manderley’s shadow; its presence is felt before the newlyweds even arrive at its gates. But great atmosphere is not enough.
The dialogue falls flat at times. Pumpkin is no prodigy when it comes to conversation but she’s not given much competition. Conversations can be repetitive, monosyllabic and a bit boring. Maxim does have some good sarcastic comments. Nowadays writers are told to not overuse the word “said.” It’s overused here. Not everyone will catch or even care about it, but it’s a little grating for me. Same thing applies to the word “was.”
Now we come to it. What is it about this book that doesn’t float my boat? It’s hard to pinpoint. It must be a combination of unlikable characters, Manderley being all grrr, and the abrupt and convenient ending. It’s like an accordion. You see it unfolding, each previously hidden valley revealing a new bit of information and then BLAM! it all comes crashing back together, complete with undignified squeaks and awkward honks.
Years ago I watched the Hitchcock adaptation and as I read this book, bits of the story came back to me so nothing was a complete surprise. The movie alters some actions and changes the very ending, but even so, the book spoils itself from the outset. I knew that a certain someone didn’t experience a certain something because it’s right there in the first ten pages. While the cast is in agony during the denouement, I’m chill as a cucumber. A few more pages could’ve cauterized the stump of an ending.
I wanted it to be better. I was hoping for a break in my five-star drought. I think I’ll try one of Daphne’s other books, just so I can experience her writing without knowing the destination.
Rebecca, always Rebecca. I should never be rid of Rebecca.
Check out my rating here.
I want to touch on the ending.
SPOILER ALERT
While somewhat understandable, Pumpkin’s reaction to learning Maxim deliberately killed Rebecca is strange. All she does is feel relief that he never loved Rebecca. She doesn’t care a fig that Maxim is a murderer and she desperately hopes he gets away.
What we learn of Rebecca does not paint a flattering image. She’s repeatedly adulterous, manipulative, cruel, and several screws short of a bookcase. She is bad news in every regard. Viewing the situation from Maxim’s eyes—without the knowledge of her cancer—killing her was the only way to prevent more horrors in his life and the lives of his family and friends. Yes, it’s murder, but she brought it on herself by being the crazy freak she is. Still, Pumpkin should’ve had more of a reaction.
What are the odds of Maxim’s bullet hitting Rebecca’s heart but completely missing her ribs? Unless he’d been secretly practicing, that seems mighty convenient. And this line, “I’d forgotten…that when you shot a person there was so much blood.” Um, Maxim, what are you not telling us? When else have you seen someone shot? I suppose he could’ve been in WWI. But what if Maxim was married before and he also killed that wife? Oh man, Pumpkin’s one mistake away from being six-feet under, isn’t she.
It was nice to see Pumpkin’s new determination to take over responsibilities in Manderley. Too bad it never comes to fruition.
I guess we’re meant to assume that Mrs. Danvers set the fire. So she finds out about Rebecca’s cancer, freaks out and then starts a fire in (presumably) the west wing over the betrayal? That seems extreme.