Throwback Thursday – this is a weekly event hosted Jenny. It is the time each week to recognize those older books… an older book we’ve always wanted to read, or one that we have read and love; maybe one from our childhood; or review an older book — how about even a classic!
My throwback is “REBACCA” by Daphne Du Maurier
A shy ladies’ companion, staying in Monte Carlo with her stuffy employer, meets the wealthy Maxim de Winter. She and Max fall in love, marry and return to Manderlay, his large country estate in Cornwall. Max is still troubled by the death of his first wife, Rebecca, in a boating accident the year before. The second Mrs. de Winter clashes with the housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers, and discovers that Rebecca still has a strange hold on everyone at Manderlay.
Why I like the book?
To me “REBECCA” will always be my favorite book because it is so beautifully written. The characters are so well developed, we can see them in the mind’s eye. There are so many, never anticipated, twists and turns that captivate your imagination and keep you guessing.
EXCERPT FROM THE BOOK: (CHAPTER 1)
“Last Night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me. There was a padlock and a chain upon the gate. I called in my dream to the lodge-keeper, and had no answer, and peering closer through the rusted spokes of the gate I saw that the lodge was uninhabited.
No smoke came from the chimney, and the little lattice windows gaped forlorn. Then, like all dreamers, I was possessed of a sudden with supernatural powers and passed like a spirit through the barrier before me. The drive wound away in front of me, twisting and tuning as it had always done, but as I advanced I was aware that a change had come upon it; it was narrow and unkept, not the drive that we had known At first I was puzzled and did not understand, and it was only when I bent my head to avoid the low swinging branch of a tree that I realised what had happened. Nature had come into her own again and little by, little, in her stealthy, insidious way had encroached upon the drive with long tenacious fingers. The woods, always a menace even in the past, had triumphed in the end. They crowded, dark and uncontrolled, to the borders of the drive. The beeches with white, naked limbs leant close to one another, their branches intermingled in a strange embrace, making a vault above my head like the archway of a church. And there were other trees as well, trees that I did not recognise, squat oaks and tortured elms that straggled cheek by jowl with the beeches, and had thrust themselves out of the quiet earth, along with monster shrubs and plants,none of which I remembered.”