So far, I’ve read only three novels by Daphne du Maurier: ‘Rebecca’, ‘Jamaica’, and ‘My cousin Rachel’. Each of them was gripping in its own way, and each of them depicted its characters and settings very vividly. I can see now why they are classics. And I can see why so many people see them as something more than old-style thrillers, and why they call for a deeper interpretation of them. Because these novels are really worth of that. There’s more to them than suspense and Gothic tropes, and there are more up to open interpretation than you think.
Having read a bit about Daphne du Maurier’s life, I think that, at least in her case, we should not apply the Death of the Author concept. Because she would have said very interesting things about herself and her novels. We often perceive ‘Rebecca’, a story of a nameless protagonist marrying the widowed aristocrat Maxim de Winter, as a love story in ‘Jane Eyre’ ‘s style. We either feel drawn to the mystery and to the romantic qualities of the plot, or we warn other readers that it shouldn’t be a love story, and that there’s something utterly wrong about the very substance of the novel. And guess what? Daphne du Maurier has never intended it as a love story, as a story where you should believe Max and root for him (as you can see here, for example: https://www.theguardian.com/books/2018/feb/23/olivia-laing-on-daphne-du-mauriers-rebecca-80-years-on).
Another thing is that we often think about her books as of ‘atmospheric thrillers about women’, and there are several assumptions behind this. First, that thrillers can’t be good books. Second, that you make a novel atmospheric by the sheer fact of setting it in a certain place, such as Cornwall with its moors and cliffs and mansions. Third, that thrillers written by women are women’s fiction, and thus women’s fiction can’t be just human beings’ fiction. But the questions of gender and place, crucial as they are for du Maurier’s works, don’t make these works something ‘only’ for women or ‘only’ for people interested in ‘quaint’ places.
The places she describes are ‘atmospheric’, but this only means she was good at evoking them. Period. When the Jamaica Inn is gloomy and neglected in ‘Jamaica’, it isn’t just for suspense and an aura of ‘something’s going to happen’. It reflects the mood of the characters, the fears of Mary Yellan, the protagonist, and the unbearable, terrifying secrets of the inn’s owner. When in ‘My Cousin Rachel’ an Italian villa and a Cornwall estate are contrasted, it’s, again, on purpose. When the nameless protagonist of ‘Rebecca’ finds Manderley a place beautiful and haunting at once, it reflects her feelings, and the mystery surrounding the mansion and its former inhabitant. There’s always some deeper meaning to such descriptions, on either psychological or symbolic level (or both). Sometimes, they signify mystery. Sometimes, they signify evil, which is always terrifyingly human instead of predictably supernatural in these novels.
And the tensions between du Maurier’s characters are more complicated than you may think. There are things her protagonists wouldn’t admit openly, or things they would realize gradually. The former is quite clear in ‘Jamaica’, when Mary is, actually, subconsciously attracted to her uncle. If, eventually, she chooses his younger brother, that’s not only because Jem will drive her away from the area connected to so many traumatic memories. It is, inevitably, because he is similar to his sibling. In ‘My Cousin Rachel’, two men from the same family are enchanted with the eponymous heroine. Ambrose and Philip are similar. And they both will never know what is the truth about Rachel, whether she loved them or manipulated them or did both these things at once. In ‘Rebecca’, Mrs Danvers says she loved Rebecca, and how are we supposed to interpret her words? If they sound queer to us, does it mean that they are really queer? The feelings and dynamics du Maurier presents are tense and ambiguous.
Another thing is that social issues and relations are more complicated than your typical story about aristocrats in their mysterious mansions. ‘Jamaica’ is a story of a countryside girl, a farmer’s daughter, whose initial plans include leading a ‘fair’ life and working ‘like a man’. Her village is something she longs after, and a gentry family in the novel, though shown as supporting Mary in her case against the dark affairs of her uncle, is still a backstage part of the story. In ‘Rebecca’, the protagonist is new and strange to the world of aristocrats, and she thinks about it (and is reminded of it) many times. We are meant to root for her rather than perceiving her as a social climber. On the other hand, the novels often otherize certain groups, such as people with albinism or Italians. I think, though, that it is more important to understand how xenophobia and ableism worked in the author’s time (and the times she wrote about) than to just reject her work.
There is more to Daphne du Maurier’s novels than you think, and her style is simply better than the styles of many other popular writers of her period. Thus, I highly recommend her books to you if you like psychological thrillers and historical fiction.
Left Hand of Fiction 