The naivete of the narrator of Rebecca

It may not be great literature (it isn't) but Daphne du Maurier's most famous novel, Rebecca, is so far great entertainment and pretty well written for all that, rising above the level of the standard woman-in-distress Lifetime movie genre, of which it was a precursor. Yes, the conventions are all there and, yes, we readers are far more knowledgeable and aware than the (unnamed?) narrator - though you'd think she might have read Jane Eyre if not Turn of the Screw? We know way before she knows, or acknowledges, that there's got to be a screw loose in a wealthy English landowner who proposes to and marries a woman about half his age, w/ whom he has virtually nothing in common, after they take a couple of drives in his car while visiting Monte Carlo (he as a widower in mourning, she as the paid companion to a nasty older woman). And we've got to be suspicious immediately of the dour head-of-household servant, Mrs. Danvers, and her open hostility toward the new bride. If she, the narrator, had any spine about her, which is to say if she were older and more mature and more comfortable in her marriage, she would tell hubby Maxim (de Winter) to fire that nasty woman immediately. And of course we would immediately wonder why she and her husband are settling into new living quarters in the less desirable East Wing while the West Wing, where Maxim lived with his (supposedly?) late wife, Rebecca, remains sealed off. But we're not she, and were she less naive there would be no story here I guess. As it - about a third through - it maintains its pace as a strong narrative - not too believable, but entertaining never the less.

To order a copy of "25 Posts from Elliot's Reading: Selections from the first 2,500 blog entries," click here.