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Book Reviews: Rebecca, du Maurier; Golem, Wisniewski; Burnt Offerings, Marasco
Title: Rebecca
Author: Daphne du Maurier
Published: 1938
Rating: 5 of 5
Page Count: 420
Total Page Count: 364,485
Text Number: 1328
Read Because: reread; ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library but I own it in paperback
Review: This is as much a dream as Manderley: beautiful, unbelievable, privileged, stumbled upon, an exuberance of flowers which growing cloying, claustrophobic, finally nightmarish as identities are mirrored and overshadowed, as actions are compelled. I love warm-weather gothic for just that vibe, and this is so gothic—the laborious slow burn of the first half, the intense thriller of the second half, the blatant and utterly effective gimmick of the unnamed protagonist and the titular Rebecca. It's manipulative, seductive, compellingly characterized; Mrs. Danvers holds a particularly special place in my heart. This has been a favorite since I was in high school and rereads never disappoint.
(Somehow I assumed that I'd never reviewed this before, which is doubly untrue: In ~high school I used to keep reviews on index cards, and it's in there! 5.6.2001: "The beginning is a bit slow and quite strange, but twists in plot make wonderful reading later on." (Also I called it great and/or a "literary great" three times. I was fifteen.) I also reviewed it in 2006, the height of my "every review is like a very redundant essay" phase, pls do not follow that link. I projected onto the protagonist, envying/fearing(/desiring) Rebecca, but mentioned Mrs. Danvers not at all(‽), and talked a lot about its genre conventions.
A fresh review is worth it because neither of those can stand—I've crossposted a ton of ancient reviews to GoodReads but have no inclination to do so with 2006-me-talking-Rebecca. But I'm tickled by the way that rereading can be tied to rereviewing; in the startlingly concrete evidence of how experiences with a book change over time, in how arbitrary a representation a review may actually be of a relationship with a book, in watching myself age in stop-motion through my reviews.)
Title: Golem
Author: David Wisniewski
Published: Clarion Books, 1996
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 30
Total Page Count: 369,090
Text Number: 1354
Read Because: mentioned n this discussion of scary Jewish children's books, but I finally picked it up because it came up in a Jacob Geller video; hardback borrowed from the Wilsonville Public Library
Review: It's difficult to imagine reading this in a group setting or to a child because the intricate papercuts demand to be poured over by one's own—they're claustrophobically dense and brutally crisp; the white core at the cut edges of intense red, orange, and brown paper almost feels like an aggressive sharpening filter. It defines the tone: things with are vast, sacred, awesome, unknowable, and mournful seen with too much clarity. What an experience! I'm always on the lookout for Jewish picture books(/Jewish picture book authors) and scary picture books, and this is a goldmine of both.
Title: Burnt Offerings
Author: Robert Marasco
Published: Valancourt Books, 2015 (1973)
Rating: 3 of 5
Page Count: 255
Total Page Count: 371,065
Text Number: 1363
Read Because: numerous mentions by Gothic Charm School, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: Like many early and/or formative examples of a genre, this feels cliché in retrospect: a young urban family escapes the crowded city for a vast, decrepit summer home; the home consumes its occupants to sustain itself and revive its wealth and beauty, which is charmingly literal and elicits some great imagery, especially in the hum behind the occupied bedroom door and in the tedious but occasionally very effective level of material detail.
It doesn't compare to haunted houses I love more. The tension between the fear of being and the drive to be consumed by the home hinges on materialism but offers limited examination of class anxiety; and while it's natural that a haunted house must compel its inhabitants, there's just not enough autonomy for me to buy the ultimate surrenders. So thematically it's as trite as the premise: all the familiar components are there, but the examination isn't particularly diverse or robust. Nonetheless this grew on me as it went on; not a must-read for the genre, not a particular favorite, but satisfyingly adequate with some fun touches.
Author: Daphne du Maurier
Published: 1938
Rating: 5 of 5
Page Count: 420
Total Page Count: 364,485
Text Number: 1328
Read Because: reread; ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library but I own it in paperback
Review: This is as much a dream as Manderley: beautiful, unbelievable, privileged, stumbled upon, an exuberance of flowers which growing cloying, claustrophobic, finally nightmarish as identities are mirrored and overshadowed, as actions are compelled. I love warm-weather gothic for just that vibe, and this is so gothic—the laborious slow burn of the first half, the intense thriller of the second half, the blatant and utterly effective gimmick of the unnamed protagonist and the titular Rebecca. It's manipulative, seductive, compellingly characterized; Mrs. Danvers holds a particularly special place in my heart. This has been a favorite since I was in high school and rereads never disappoint.
(Somehow I assumed that I'd never reviewed this before, which is doubly untrue: In ~high school I used to keep reviews on index cards, and it's in there! 5.6.2001: "The beginning is a bit slow and quite strange, but twists in plot make wonderful reading later on." (Also I called it great and/or a "literary great" three times. I was fifteen.) I also reviewed it in 2006, the height of my "every review is like a very redundant essay" phase, pls do not follow that link. I projected onto the protagonist, envying/fearing(/desiring) Rebecca, but mentioned Mrs. Danvers not at all(‽), and talked a lot about its genre conventions.
A fresh review is worth it because neither of those can stand—I've crossposted a ton of ancient reviews to GoodReads but have no inclination to do so with 2006-me-talking-Rebecca. But I'm tickled by the way that rereading can be tied to rereviewing; in the startlingly concrete evidence of how experiences with a book change over time, in how arbitrary a representation a review may actually be of a relationship with a book, in watching myself age in stop-motion through my reviews.)
Title: Golem
Author: David Wisniewski
Published: Clarion Books, 1996
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 30
Total Page Count: 369,090
Text Number: 1354
Read Because: mentioned n this discussion of scary Jewish children's books, but I finally picked it up because it came up in a Jacob Geller video; hardback borrowed from the Wilsonville Public Library
Review: It's difficult to imagine reading this in a group setting or to a child because the intricate papercuts demand to be poured over by one's own—they're claustrophobically dense and brutally crisp; the white core at the cut edges of intense red, orange, and brown paper almost feels like an aggressive sharpening filter. It defines the tone: things with are vast, sacred, awesome, unknowable, and mournful seen with too much clarity. What an experience! I'm always on the lookout for Jewish picture books(/Jewish picture book authors) and scary picture books, and this is a goldmine of both.
Title: Burnt Offerings
Author: Robert Marasco
Published: Valancourt Books, 2015 (1973)
Rating: 3 of 5
Page Count: 255
Total Page Count: 371,065
Text Number: 1363
Read Because: numerous mentions by Gothic Charm School, ebook borrowed from the Multnomah County Library
Review: Like many early and/or formative examples of a genre, this feels cliché in retrospect: a young urban family escapes the crowded city for a vast, decrepit summer home; the home consumes its occupants to sustain itself and revive its wealth and beauty, which is charmingly literal and elicits some great imagery, especially in the hum behind the occupied bedroom door and in the tedious but occasionally very effective level of material detail.
It doesn't compare to haunted houses I love more. The tension between the fear of being and the drive to be consumed by the home hinges on materialism but offers limited examination of class anxiety; and while it's natural that a haunted house must compel its inhabitants, there's just not enough autonomy for me to buy the ultimate surrenders. So thematically it's as trite as the premise: all the familiar components are there, but the examination isn't particularly diverse or robust. Nonetheless this grew on me as it went on; not a must-read for the genre, not a particular favorite, but satisfyingly adequate with some fun touches.