Daphne Du Maurier is widely considered to be one of our most gifted female writers. In fact, scratch that because it sounds patronising, as if women need to be sectioned off in their own area. She is widely considered to be one of our finest writers full-stop, so I have always meant to read more of her work.
The only book I’ve read until now was Rebecca, a novel which constantly makes it onto all-time greatest lists whenever masterpieces are being discussed. I was a kid when I read it, plucking the dated TV tie-in paperback from my parents’ wicker bookcase, a youthful and bewildered Joanna David gazing out from the cover. In fact, a guilty glance over my shoulder to my own bookcases has just revealed that yes, I never put it back...
Rebecca is a really great book. I was probably only about 10 or 12 when I read it and if a story about old-fashioned love and adult jealousy can enchant someone who still watches Grange Hill, it’s got something going for it.
However, I was not immediately gripped by the idea that I should seek out more of her work. And I think it is because Rebecca, however thrilling and occasionally dark, still resonates a gentility which doesn’t quite match my literary tastes. The titles of Du Maurier’s other novels – Jamaica Inn, Frenchman’s Creek – just seemed to nudge towards the twee, so she wasn’t really at the top of my must-read list.
While browsing about in the bookshop the other day, I suddenly spotted a copy of Don’t Look Now and Other Stories and knew immediately that I must have it. Never having seen the film – another highly celebrated work – all the way through, I only had a vague idea of the storyline. But with my love of paranormal fiction, I knew at once that it was a must-read.
And I wasn’t wrong. Although Don’t Look Now is the big-name striker in the team, all the other players on the pitch quietly make their own mark. From the sublimely odd and unexpected turns of the title story, to the equally bizarre A Border-Line Case, Du Maurier shows an awe-inspiring grasp of character and place.
Somehow she manages to take strange, fanciful notions and place them right into the middle of ordinary life in the most believable way. I felt a little frustration with A Border-Line Case, simply because the language and action felt almost dream-like and as if Du Maurier had become a little self-indulgent. But on the whole, these five stories were intriguing and bold, in most cases seeming to introduce ideas and characters merely to let us know they existed, with no conclusion or even real comment on them at all.
Although Don’t Look Now is her most satisfying tale, as it does at least have an ending, The Way of the Cross might be the most accomplished. In just 67 pages she paints an astonishingly vivid picture of a group of disparate tourists in Jerusalem, all suffering a series of minor calamities and for what purpose? Just as we get a grip on them all, we leave them. And that is where Du Maurier’s consummate skill and assurance really makes itself known.
The final story, The Breakthrough, left me positively gripped and desperate to know more about the psychic energy experiments of an eccentric scientist. But I guess I will never know what might have been if the story was allowed to progress, the plug pulled on that particular intrigue.
This copy of Don’t Look Now is part of the Penguin Decades series, a really beautifully presented collection with covers by Zandra Rhodes, which makes it something of a keepsake and I'd recommend seeking out these attractive editions.
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