“When the water drains from the marshes, and little by little the yellow sands appear, rippling and hard and firm, it seems to my foolish fancy, as I “When the water drains from the marshes, and little by little the yellow sands appear, rippling and hard and firm, it seems to my foolish fancy, as I lie here, that I too go seaward with the tide, and all my old hidden dreams that I thought buried for all time are bare and naked to the day, just as the shells and the stones are on the sands.”
It seems to me that Daphne du Maurier can do no wrong. As of today, I have read nine of her works, including seven novels and two collections of short stories. Five of these I’ve awarded the illustrious five stars, and the rest a notable four stars. I love her writing to pieces. Like a schoolgirl being asked to prom, I become unreasonably giddy just at the thought of picking up one of her books!
Confession: For a brief moment, I was skeptical about picking up The King’s General. At first glance, it seemed to be classified more heavily towards historical fiction, rather than the Gothic mystery which I find so alluring in du Maurier’s hands. All those fears were wiped out when I read the very first page. Yes, this is historical fiction; it takes place during the English Civil War with the supporters of Charles I, the Royalists, pit against the Parliamentarians. However, it’s much more than that – it’s a mystery, a tragedy and a romance. The Gothic element is clearly there, complete with a sprawling mansion, secret passages, and the whisperings of a ghost. And the icing on an already scrumptious cake – the setting is Cornwall!
Honor Harris and Richard Grenville meet when Honor is eighteen and Richard ten years her senior. Both are passionate and headstrong and there is an instant chemistry between the two. But this is du Maurier, and romance in her hands is not of the sweet, saccharine variety. Their love is cursed from the start, although never truly extinguished. Honor Harris tells us their story, looking back after a period of years.
“I will say for Richard what he never said for himself, and I will show how, despite his bitter faults and failings, it was possible for a woman to love him with all her heart, and mind, and body and I that woman.”
Richard is indeed a flawed hero, if we can in fact call him a hero. He’s courageous, brazen, and loyal to those that have earned his admiration and trust. He is also bitter and vengeful, and his morals slide into that slippery gray area. Honor is most certainly the heroine of the novel, and du Maurier’s use of the first person narration here is extremely effective. The reader can understand her very intimately – what drives her devotion to Richard and how her pride has affected the lives of others. She’s intelligent and perceptive and many of her kinfolk look to her for advice and security. Her faithful servant Matty is her constant ally and I would go so far as to call her something of a heroine in her own right.
A drama like this one naturally has to have a villain as well. Who is this villain, you wonder? Well, du Maurier doesn’t necessarily make this completely evident either. This seems to be a trademark of her work – the ambiguous nature of some of the characters that leave the reader with many questions long after finishing the last page (think My Cousin Rachel.) On the surface, she’s written Gartred, Richard’s bewitching sister, as what should be the obvious villainess. You’ll have to decide for yourself if she fits neatly into this label or not. When Honor describes Gartred to the reader, she does so with the perfect analogy. I couldn’t help but think of those blood-red rhododendrons that greet the second Mrs. de Winter upon her arrival to Manderley!
“There was one flower, an orchid, that grew alone; it was the color of pale ivory, with one little vein of crimson running through the petals. The scent filled the house, honeyed, and sickly sweet. It was the loveliest flower I had ever seen. I stretched out my hand to stroke the soft velvet sheen, and swiftly my uncle pulled me by the shoulder. ‘Don’t touch it, child. The stem is poisonous.’”
I could go on talking for ages about the excellent characterization, the breathtaking scenery, the trademark mysterious atmosphere, the clever foreshadowing, and the remarkable writing that I have found in this and all of du Maurier’s work. I should also mention that I learned so much more than I could have imagined about the English Civil War and in particular, the battles that were fought on Cornish ground. When I finished, however, I realized that I hadn’t been put through some grueling history lesson, but rather an enthralling account of what it would have been like for both the soldiers and the civilians during this time. It’s as if du Maurier wielded her inventive pen and waved her magical wand – by the end not only had I been swept away by the people and their hopes and dreams, their fears and insecurities, and their passions, but I had also been enlightened on a period of history that I knew little about. This is another clear favorite!
“Time heals all wounds, say the complacent, but I think it is not so much time that does it as determination of the spirit. And the spirit can often turn to devil in the darkness.”
Merged review:
“When the water drains from the marshes, and little by little the yellow sands appear, rippling and hard and firm, it seems to my foolish fancy, as I lie here, that I too go seaward with the tide, and all my old hidden dreams that I thought buried for all time are bare and naked to the day, just as the shells and the stones are on the sands.”
It seems to me that Daphne du Maurier can do no wrong. As of today, I have read nine of her works, including seven novels and two collections of short stories. Five of these I’ve awarded the illustrious five stars, and the rest a notable four stars. I love her writing to pieces. Like a schoolgirl being asked to prom, I become unreasonably giddy just at the thought of picking up one of her books!
Confession: For a brief moment, I was skeptical about picking up The King’s General. At first glance, it seemed to be classified more heavily towards historical fiction, rather than the Gothic mystery which I find so alluring in du Maurier’s hands. All those fears were wiped out when I read the very first page. Yes, this is historical fiction; it takes place during the English Civil War with the supporters of Charles I, the Royalists, pit against the Parliamentarians. However, it’s much more than that – it’s a mystery, a tragedy and a romance. The Gothic element is clearly there, complete with a sprawling mansion, secret passages, and the whisperings of a ghost. And the icing on an already scrumptious cake – the setting is Cornwall!
Honor Harris and Richard Grenville meet when Honor is eighteen and Richard ten years her senior. Both are passionate and headstrong and there is an instant chemistry between the two. But this is du Maurier, and romance in her hands is not of the sweet, saccharine variety. Their love is cursed from the start, although never truly extinguished. Honor Harris tells us their story, looking back after a period of years.
“I will say for Richard what he never said for himself, and I will show how, despite his bitter faults and failings, it was possible for a woman to love him with all her heart, and mind, and body and I that woman.”
Richard is indeed a flawed hero, if we can in fact call him a hero. He’s courageous, brazen, and loyal to those that have earned his admiration and trust. He is also bitter and vengeful, and his morals slide into that slippery gray area. Honor is most certainly the heroine of the novel, and du Maurier’s use of the first person narration here is extremely effective. The reader can understand her very intimately – what drives her devotion to Richard and how her pride has affected the lives of others. She’s intelligent and perceptive and many of her kinfolk look to her for advice and security. Her faithful servant Matty is her constant ally and I would go so far as to call her something of a heroine in her own right.
A drama like this one naturally has to have a villain as well. Who is this villain, you wonder? Well, du Maurier doesn’t necessarily make this completely evident either. This seems to be a trademark of her work – the ambiguous nature of some of the characters that leave the reader with many questions long after finishing the last page (think My Cousin Rachel.) On the surface, she’s written Gartred, Richard’s bewitching sister, as what should be the obvious villainess. You’ll have to decide for yourself if she fits neatly into this label or not. When Honor describes Gartred to the reader, she does so with the perfect analogy. I couldn’t help but think of those blood-red rhododendrons that greet the second Mrs. de Winter upon her arrival to Manderley!
“There was one flower, an orchid, that grew alone; it was the color of pale ivory, with one little vein of crimson running through the petals. The scent filled the house, honeyed, and sickly sweet. It was the loveliest flower I had ever seen. I stretched out my hand to stroke the soft velvet sheen, and swiftly my uncle pulled me by the shoulder. ‘Don’t touch it, child. The stem is poisonous.’”
I could go on talking for ages about the excellent characterization, the breathtaking scenery, the trademark mysterious atmosphere, the clever foreshadowing, and the remarkable writing that I have found in this and all of du Maurier’s work. I should also mention that I learned so much more than I could have imagined about the English Civil War and in particular, the battles that were fought on Cornish ground. When I finished, however, I realized that I hadn’t been put through some grueling history lesson, but rather an enthralling account of what it would have been like for both the soldiers and the civilians during this time. It’s as if du Maurier wielded her inventive pen and waved her magical wand – by the end not only had I been swept away by the people and their hopes and dreams, their fears and insecurities, and their passions, but I had also been enlightened on a period of history that I knew little about. This is another clear favorite!
“Time heals all wounds, say the complacent, but I think it is not so much time that does it as determination of the spirit. And the spirit can often turn to devil in the darkness.”...more
Wonderfully dark and atmospheric and utterly suspenseful, Daphne du Maurier’s Jamaica Inn is a thrilling adventure of a novel! I wish I had picked up Wonderfully dark and atmospheric and utterly suspenseful, Daphne du Maurier’s Jamaica Inn is a thrilling adventure of a novel! I wish I had picked up this book on a chilly, gray and dreary fall day so I could have curled up on the sofa next to the fire with a blanket and a cup of tea. That would have created the perfect environment for reading this one! Nevertheless, it was still a satisfying reading experience.
On her deathbed, Mary Yellan’s mother exacts a promise from her daughter – that she will seek out her Aunt Patience and reside with her in order to avoid the uncertainties and pitfalls of a single young woman living alone in her hometown of Helford. Here, Mary’s mother describes her sister Patience as “a great one for games and laughing, with a heart as large as life” with “ribbons in her bonnet and a silk petticoat.” So, the spirited yet obedient Mary leaves the comfort of her farm and sets out to find Aunt Patience in Bodmin. As always, du Maurier does a superb job of evoking the sensations of the surroundings and we see the contrast between the tranquility of Helford with the hostility of the moors for which she is bound. “It was a gentle rain that fell at Helford, a rain that pattered in the many trees and lost itself in the lush grass, formed into brooks and rivulets that emptied into the broad river, sank into the grateful soil which gave back flowers in payment.” On journeying into Bodmin and beyond, Mary and the reader are submitted to harsher conditions with a palpable feeling of threat in the air. “This was a lashing, pitiless rain that stung the windows of the coach, and it soaked into a hard and barren soil. No trees here, save one or two that stretched bare branches to the four winds, bent and twisted from centuries of storm, and so black were they by time and tempest that, even if spring did breathe on such a place, no buds would dare to come to leaf for fear the late frost should kill them.” We get an immediate sense of foreshadowing as Mary relates “No human being could live in this wasted country and remain like other people; the very children would be born twisted, like the blackened shrubs of broom, bent by the force of a wind that never ceased, blow as it would from east and west, from north and south. Their minds would be twisted, too, their thoughts evil, dwelling as they must amidst marshland and granite, harsh heather and crumbling stone.”
Once arriving in Bodmin, Mary learns that her aunt now lives out at the formidable Jamaica Inn where her uncle, Joss Merlyn, is the sinister and drunken proprietor of the now disreputable inn that welcomes no travelers but the vilest characters that scurry in from the darkness of the moors. Mary finds Aunt Patience a changed and nearly unrecognizable person. “Her face had fallen away, and the skin was stretched tight across her cheekbones. Her eyes were large and staring, as though they asked perpetually a question, and she had a little nervous trick of working her mouth… Was this poor tattered creature the bewitching Aunt Patience of her dreams, dressed now like a slattern, and twenty years her age?” The suspense mounts as Mary discovers secrets and despicable acts that envelop the owner and the inn itself.
Like her aunt, will Mary now languish as her surroundings drain the life out of her? Perhaps made of stronger stuff, Mary perseveres and manages to even wander the moors unattended trying to find answers to the mysteries that plague her sanity. On these solitary ventures where the treacherous marshes place her at increasing risk, Mary encounters two more singular individuals that seem to be quite adapted to the danger of the moors. Jem Merlyn, brother to her infamous uncle, is a bit of an enigma with his charlatan ways, coarse appearance and sharp tongue yet irresistible, ruggedly handsome, and lively bearing. Despite her better judgment, Mary falls for this man. “Jem Merlyn was a man, and she was a woman, and whether it was his hands or his skin or his smile she did not know, but something inside her responded to him, and the very thought of him was an irritant and a stimulant at the same time.” Just the right amount of romance ensues. Mary also meets Francis Davey, the Vicar of Altarnun out on the moors where he rescues her as she finds herself lost and confused when trying to return to the inn. The vicar’s gentle manner and unusual appearance are a bit contradictory yet he often arrives at the right moment to save Mary from her predicaments time and again. On one such occasion, we read “Mary looked up at the pale eyes in the colourless face, the halo of cropped white hair, and she thought again how strange a freak of nature was this man, who might be twenty-one, who might be sixty, and who with his soft, persuasive voice would compel her to admit every secret her heart possessed, had he the mind to ask her. She could trust him; that at least was certain. Still she hesitated, turning the words over in her mind.”
One of my favorite things about du Maurier’s writing, besides her ability to create a tremendous sense of atmosphere, is her incredible talent for bringing to life even those inanimate objects within her novels. The houses in Jamaica Inn appear to live and breathe of their own accord and I loved reading about them. The vicar’s home is described here: “There was something strangely peaceful about the house, something very rare and difficult to define… The room in which she was sitting had the quiet impersonality of a drawing-room visited by night. The furniture, the table in the centre, the pictures on the walls, were without that look of solid familiarity belonging to the day. They were like sleeping things, stumbled upon at midnight by surprise.” The inn itself reflects a different sort of feeling: “The house was treacherous tonight, her very footsteps sounding hollow on the flags, and there were echoes that came unbidden from the walls. Even the kitchen, the one room in the house to possess some measure of warmth and normality, gaped back at her as she left it, yellow and sinister in the candle-light.”
As Mary tries to uncover the dark secrets of the inn and the covert operations of her uncle and his company, the reader is taken on a blood-tingling trek between the bleak moors, the gaiety of the Launceston fair, the oppressiveness of Jamaica Inn, the strange tranquility of the vicar’s home, and the wretched Cornwall coast. Mary must learn who to trust - the Vicar of Altarnun, Jem Merlyn, or Squire Bassat and his wife? Will she be able to save herself and Aunt Patience from the horrors of the moors and the madness of the inn? Grab a copy of this book, find a cozy corner, and hunker down for a very captivating read! ...more
"Do you remember my father’s aviary in Hampshire, and how the birds there were well fed, and could fly about their cage? And one day I set a linnet fr"Do you remember my father’s aviary in Hampshire, and how the birds there were well fed, and could fly about their cage? And one day I set a linnet free, and it flew straight out of my hands towards the sun?... Because I feel like that. Like the linnet before it flew."
If you’ve ever felt confined, if you’ve ever felt like just throwing all caution to the wind and escaping, then you can empathize with Dona St. Columb, the heroine of this delightful adventure! Now, I know what you are thinking, because I had the same exact thought… what’s up with a pirate story from the brilliant creator of Rebecca?! Well, I would say first and foremost, that you can’t compare this to Rebecca, as they can’t all be masterpieces. However, it is worthy of its own unique praise. It’s more lighthearted, yes, but I don’t think everything has to be so somber all the time. In fact, this book may be a more high-spirited read, but certainly it still causes one to pause and reflect.
Dona is married to a titled landowner in 17th century England. She is a mother and adores her children. Given the time and place, however, Dona is bound by societal restrictions and the expectations placed on the women of her time. Dona does not adapt well to these boundaries, however, and decides to escape London and relocate with her children and nurse to her husband’s home on the Cornwall coast. Her husband, Harry, is left behind to continue with his diversions in the city. Harry doesn’t really ‘get it’. He’s a bit clueless but not a brute, so we can tolerate him.
"… in reality it was escape she wanted, escape from her own self, from the life they led together; that she had reached a crisis in her particular span of time and existence, and must travel through that crisis, alone."
Upon reaching the coast, Dona soon hears the whispers of the rumor of piracy. And so her adventure begins, as does ours. In true du Maurier fashion, the landscape is spectacularly drawn and the Helford River and Frenchman’s Creek become almost entities of their own. You can hear the wind and the crashing waves, the cry of the birds; and you can envision the bluebells and the mysterious painted ship. Dona must struggle with her new-found freedom, her understanding of love, and reconcile these feelings with her sense of responsibility and love for her children. Not an easy battle for a woman and a mother’s conscience today, much less in the 1600’s!
I couldn’t imagine how this would end, and you of course will need to read the book to find out. All I can say is that du Maurier always manages to execute her endings perfectly. Read this for the witty banter between Dona and her manservant, William (whom I adored), for the intriguing character that is the Frenchman, for the comical gentry that Dona finds so stodgy, and for the thrill of the high seas. But, most of all, you should read this for the beautiful prose and the nostalgic feel of times gone by. I loved it for the sheer entertainment and joy I felt while reading this. It may not be transformative, but it is captivating and enchanting.
"Contentment is a state of mind and body when the two work in harmony, and there is no friction. The mind is at peace, and the body also. The two are sufficient to themselves. Happiness is elusive – coming perhaps once in a life-time – approaching ecstasy." ...more
Oh, how I wish I could rewind the past month and start all over again! Then I could pick up Rebecca and experience this breathtaking novel once more aOh, how I wish I could rewind the past month and start all over again! Then I could pick up Rebecca and experience this breathtaking novel once more as if for the first time. Truth be told, this wasn’t actually my first time reading this quintessential piece of classic gothic literature. However, I am ashamed to say that the number of years that have passed between my first reading and this recent one, combined with what I like to call a lingering case of ‘momnesia’, effectively rendered this reading very much like a first time. For that I am actually grateful, because I completely immersed and surrendered myself to the beautiful writing of the remarkably talented Daphne du Maurier.
The unnamed narrator is an inexperienced and insecure young woman with not much of a future to speak of – unless becoming a companion to an overbearing busybody by the name of Mrs. Van Hopper could be called a promising prospect! So when the handsome, mysterious and wealthy Maxim de Winter seems to take an interest and offers a much more enticing alternative – that of being his wife – what is a girl to do but accept?! The honeymoon at an end, the newly married couple returns to Manderley, Max de Winter’s estate. Manderley itself is a major character in this novel. I could sense it almost as a living, breathing entity; the descriptions of this magnificent place were so masterfully crafted. I felt as if I were sitting right there with Mrs. de Winter as she approached Manderley for the first time.
"Suddenly I saw a clearing in the dark drive ahead, and a patch of sky, and in a moment the dark trees had thinned, the nameless shrubs had disappeared, and on either side of us was a wall of colour, blood-red, reaching far above our heads. We were amongst the rhododendrons. There was something bewildering, even shocking, about the suddenness of their discovery. The woods had not prepared me for them. They startled me with their crimson faces, massed one upon the other in incredible profusion, showing no leaf, no twig, nothing but the slaughterous red, luscious and fantastic, unlike any rhododendron plant I had seen before… these were monsters, rearing to the sky, massed like a battalion, too beautiful I thought, too powerful; they were not plants at all."
Rhododendrons, Red, Rebecca… She is everywhere. The second Mrs. de Winter (the only name by which she will ever be identified) had not expected the ceaseless competition from the deceased first Mrs. de winter, Rebecca - Rebecca with a capital R written with such confidence, a confidence that even transcends death. She lingers in the morning-room, she lurks in the gallery, she tarries in the cottage by the beach. But most of all, Rebecca dwells within the minds of everyone living in the West Country along the rugged coast of England. Max de Winter becomes a brooding and aloof husband once back within the clutches of Manderley and Rebecca’s memory. The new Mrs. de Winter is tormented by her own fantasies of this formidable adversary. Since the novel is cleverly written from the perspective of this naïve young woman, the reader becomes intimate with the psychological turmoil she endures. She is also subject to the criticism and malice of the sinister housekeeper, Mrs. Danvers. Mrs. Danvers worshiped Rebecca during her life and continues to do so even after her death. I absolutely loved to hate this dark and intimidating woman!
"Once more, I glanced up at her and once more I met her eyes, dark and somber, in that white face of hers, instilling into me, I knew not why, a strange feeling of disquiet, of foreboding. I tried to smile, and could not; I found myself held by those eyes, that had no light, no flicker of sympathy towards me."
Every single character is drawn skillfully and comes to life within the pages of this book. The tension builds and one cannot help becoming entangled with the suspenseful buildup of events leading to the climax. I was transported to another time and place and was perfectly mesmerized. I can’t say much more without getting into spoiler territory if you have not yet read this masterpiece. Just grab a copy soon and experience this one – please! This is the best of the best and is going on that very special bookshelf at home.
"I wondered how many people there were in the world who suffered, and continued to suffer, because they could not break out from their own web of shyness and reserve, and in their blindness and folly built up a great distorted wall in front of them that hid the truth. This was what I had done. I had built up false pictures in my mind and sat before them. I had never had the courage to demand the truth." ...more