The Epilogue

Last time, I threatened to write again about Daphne Du Maurier’s Rebecca, focusing on the Epilogue. An epilogue is defined as “a section or speech at the end of a book or play that serves as a comment on or a conclusion to what has happened.” Let’s return to this definition later. This very curious chapter deserves some attention.

In the edition I have been working with, apparently a 2001 reprint, the last chapter ends with the narrator and Maxim returning in haste to Manderley from London where Maxim has firmed up his alibi for his first wife’s murder—that it was indeed a suicide.

“He drove faster, much faster…The road to Manderley lay ahead. There was no moon. The sky above our heads was inky black. But the sky on the horizon was not dark at all. It was shot with crimson, like a splash of blood. And the ashes blew towards us with the salt wind from the sea.”

Then we have an actual letter from the editor that presents some biographical information on Daphne Du Maurier and an explanation of what follows: a letter from Ms. Du Maurier about her experience writing the novel, an essay by her about the real house that inspired Manderley, and “the original epilogue.”

“The Rebecca Epilogue” begins: “If you travel south you will come upon us in the end, staying in one of those innumerable little hotels that cling like limpets to the Mediterranean shore.” There follows a return to the story’s present that was introduced in the beginning: “Last night I dreamt I saw Manderley again.” It is again twenty years after the events of the story’s past and the narrator and Maxim (now surprisingly called Henry) are living a self-imposed exile in Europe. They do not wish to return to England. Henry—or Maxim—is an old man, and the narrator is middle-aged.

So, Rebecca begins say in 1938, goes back for most of its length to 1918, and then returns to 1938 for the epilogue. Of course, this is a fictitious time; we could imagine that it is now 1938 when Ms. Du Maurier wrote the book. In any case, there is no mention made in the novel of real historical events like the two world wars. I’m sure other novels have this structure; I’m just not aware of them. The Odyssey, by contrast, begins in the middle of the story, goes back in time to catch the reader up to the middle, and then proceeds to the end.  

Ooh! Odyssey reference.

It is different but there is a similarity between Rebecca and the Odyssey. If you include the epilogue as part of the text, we have a showing of what happens to the narrator and Henry/Maxim after the climax of the burning of Manderley. There is another great line at the end: “And before us, long as the skein of wool I wind, stretches the vista of our afternoon.”

If we think of the end as occurring with the narrator and Maxim returning to Manderley and finding it in flames, we are forced to rethink the structure of the novel. Now, the climax is probably better seen as Dr. Baker’s revelation that Rebecca was dying, and everything after it—Maxim’s exoneration, the dream-like drive to Manderley, and the discovery of the fire—as showing what happens as a result. It is, indeed, a comment on a conclusion, referring back to our original definition of an epilogue.

Of course, the text as presented shows the aftermath at the beginning, which creates considerable tension as the reader must figure out how the characters got to the situation they did. How and why.

Perhaps there is some wisdom in presenting both endings and letting the reader decide which they like best. I want to say that the last two or so chapters contain some of the best prose writing I’ve ever read.

Thank you, Ms. Du Maurier.

Next time, let’s consider another book by Daphne Du Maurier, a long, short story written some thirty years after Rebecca—Don’t Look Now.

Till then.

#Rebecca #DaphneDuMaurier #AlanBray