Ch. 4.2, Rebecca

Before lunch with Mr. de Winter vs. After lunch with Mr. de Winter: The maitre’d exhibits a 180-degree change in attitude and all the hotel staff bow to the narrator deferentially.

The result?

“I found the change depressing; it made me despise myself.”

lol forever.

Stay tuned, dear blog readers. Stay tuned.

Ch. 4, Rebecca

What we have now — after the very stream-of-consciousness opening where the young narrator waxes on about how wonderful, how all-encompassing, her knowledge of the English countryside is — is a scene with the aloof Mr. de Winter.

Self is so in awe of Du Maurier. Note for note, the trapdoor is being set. She can feel it in every sentence, the engine of the plot is that strong. In fact, it’s rather relentless.

And yet, these are people, actual people, not caricatures. Oh, well, maybe Mr. de Winter is Mr. Rochester 2.0, but he’s a bit more sociable. More attractive, in self’s humble opinion. To be perfectly honest, self never found Mr. Rochester attractive, not in Jane Eyre and not even in Wide Sargasso Sea when he was younger and much more kinky. And Monte Carlo is a way more festive setting than Thornfield. There’s nothing the least bit gothic about Monte Carlo.

Apologies for the constant comparison of Rebecca to Jane Eyre, but self just can’t help it. For one thing, Daphne Du Maurier was very aware of the long shadow of Charlotte Bronte. Even though she wasn’t trying to re-write Jane Eyre, she was so aware of it.

The satire here, by the way, is quite delicious.

This is from the first conversation between the narrator and Mr. de Winter:

“Your friend,” he began, “she is very much older than you. Is she a relation? Have you known her long?” I saw he was still puzzled by us.

“She’s not really a friend,” I told him, “she’s an employer. She’s training me to be a thing called a companion, and she pays me ninety pounds a year.”

“I did not know one could buy companionship,” he said; “it sounds a primitive idea. Rather like the eastern slave market.”

“I looked up the word ‘companion’ once in the dictionary,” I admitted, “and it said ‘a companion is a friend of the bosom.’ “

lol

lol

lol

Stay tuned.

 

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