Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

Get it here. You’re gonna want to, trust me.

Of course I’ve known of Rebecca for years. I’ve had it on my TBR (that’s “to be read” for those of you not down with fanatical reader lingo) list for over a year. I was going for it last year when I changed my mind to Jane Eyre for whatever reason. They’re similar, in that they’re both that of the Gothic Fiction variety, but that’s where the similarities end. This book gets right down to it, and there’s less of the fawning over the dashing Maxim de Winter, thanks be to God. Not that there’s less love, there’s just much more compelling drama and livelier characters. Mrs. Danvers took shape in my mind immediately as a former coworker of mine, Judy. I won’t go into that here.

I don’t want to say too much, you should read it and wonder as I did. I had no trouble at all envisioning Manderley, the author is quite talented (obviously) at spinning a vivid portrait of the glorious estate. I wanted to sit under the chestnut tree, and walk along the shingle beach, and eat a scone in front of the library fireplace while rubbing Jasper’s silken ears. Yes, I would like to send for a new frock from London. And freshen those flowers while you’re here, won’t you? I wouldn’t have a bit of trouble being the lady of the house.

So, thanks to my book club for forcing me to read another one I would have probably put off for another year or more. And let me tell you this, crazy bitches could take some notes from this one.