Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier

This novel begins in Monte Carlo when our unnamed heroine meets Max DeWinter (Maxim), a handsome widower. Rebecca is his recently deceased wife. The two marry after a very brief courtship and they return to his elegant estate, Manderley. Rebecca’s presence is still very strong in the house, and our heroine gradually learns more about her predecessor and her husband’s past. It is easy to relate to the awkwardness that the heroine must feel, constantly being compared to the graceful, beautiful Rebecca.

For as long as I can remember, awkward situations in television, movies and books have embarrassed me. There were scenes in the first half Rebecca that just made me want to cringe; Du Maurier’s heroine is so naïve and innocent that her actions just seem foolish. I am embarrassed for her. I had to stop multiple times to remind myself that it is fiction.

Without going into too much detail, I felt conflicted near the end of the book. I’m of the opinion that domestic violence is never okay and people never “deserve it.” Yet it is written in a way that portrays this in a sympathetic light. Other popular books that are out now (for example the Twilight saga) also seem to be sympathetic to people who are moderately aggressive in relationships, and I wonder if I only hold this opinion because I’ve recently been thinking about the effect of abuse in literature. I would be curious to hear whether others who have read Rebecca are similarly conflicted.

Review: The Believers

The back cover of The Believers by Zoe Heller introduces the book thus: “When a stroke fells radical New York lawyer Joel Litvinoff, a secret is revealed that forces Audrey, his wife, to reexamine everything she believed about their forty year marriage.” I was able to guess from reading this description what his secret was – I bet you can too. Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite so obvious from reading the beginning of the book that something was going on, so I think that the fact that this was included on the book’s cover is a bit of a disappointment. There is potential for the family’s revelation to be a big surprise, and some crafty re-wording could have prevented this giveaway.

But I don’t want to dwell too much on my qualms here, because it didn’t really detract from my enjoyment of the novel, and it is at least quite descriptive of the plot. Though Joel’s wife Audrey does little to continue her life as Joel lingers in a coma, their children do move forward. By the end of the novel, the family isn’t really revolving around their absent father anymore; rather, each child has been subtly influenced by his illness.

Based on the title, I mistakenly believed that this book would be more about the religious beliefs of the family. While that does play a part in the story, I have since interpreted The Believers as referring to a much broader kind of belief. The characters reconsider their beliefs on family, lifestyle, love, death, and yes, religion.

Audrey spends most of the novel acting angry and cruel, with rare moments of affection and sympathy bestowed upon her loved ones. Even though her outbursts are often shocking, I think this is how I prefer her to act. After all that happens in the course of the book, if Audrey isn’t a little bit justified in acting like a jerk, I don’t know who is. If her nasty remarks make me uncomfortable, it’s probably just because I’m a little jealous that she can get away with it. Near the end of the story, she seems to regret her harsh past, but I don’t.