 |
| Daphne du Maurier in 1944. Photograph: Hans Wild |
READING GROUP
on't Look Now: The 'middlebrow' question
How far does Du Maurier's work rise above the limitations of effective genre writing? And does it matter if it's only entertainment?
Sam Jordison
Friday 14 October 2011
I
n 1938, the distinguished author VS Pritchett wrote in the Christian Science Monitor that Rebecca would be "here today, gone tomorrow". I think by now, that it's safe to say that he was wrong.
Yet while Daphne du Maurier's books have proved durable, they still haven't the reputation of those by contemporaries like Anthony Powell, Evelyn Waugh, or even VS Pritchett. She spent a great deal of her life denying that she was a romantic novelist - often in the face of concerted marketing from her publisher – but the stigma still remains.
Perhaps there's some justification. I know that before I read Rebecca I always thought of Du Maurier as a slightly more sophisticated Barbara Cartland. After I read Rebecca, I continued to think pretty much the same thing – only with the qualification that being an upmarket Barbara Cartland is all right with me. Du Maurier is nearly always entertaining, can write with real urgency, has an intriguing darker side and provides good insights into human nature – as well as plenty of stuff about galloping hooves, brooding men and women in impressive dresses.
But of course, that doesn't really do justice to the full range of her talents. She has plenty to offer above and beyond the bodice. As is well shown in stories like the subject of this month's book club, Don't Look Now, and her violent, pessimistic masterpiece The Birds, Du Maurier could be a daring and original writer, unafraid to stare into some of the most troubling parts of the human psyche.
So where does she stand?
On our opening post for this month's Reading Group, zibibbo raised the question of whether Du Maurier "might be worth taking seriously beyond her talent for cooking up macabre plots." The answer to that, according to most people posting here has been a resounding "yes". Complimentary comments have included: "she is one of the masters of having a location become a character in her work"; "it's wonderfully written"; "I find it really haunting" and "impressive".
But there have been qualifications. In a series of posts, Jericho999 wrote:
"The writing was sometimes poor and flabby - lots of 'she nodded her head up and down', that sort of thing. Also, it simply didn't create the sense of deep unease that you find in, say, Henry James's Turn Of The Screw. It doesn't play with perception in the same way."That sort of lack of care in the finished sentence happens again and again in Du Maurier - it's particularly glaring in Jamaica Inn. Don't get me wrong, I like her writing; I've read most of her stuff. But she's not first order. Somerset Maugham called his own output "the very top rank of the second rate", and I think the same could probably be said for Du Maurier."
Du Maurier, it seems, is middlebrow. Or possibly not, because as Jericho999 also suggests:
"I hate the word 'middle brow'. It's used by snobs to belittle other people's reading tastes! l love a Jilly Cooper as much as I love a Hemingway, in the right setting – but obviously, I wouldn't say that she's as good or adept a writer. That's kind of what I mean by Du Maurier. And I sometimes think that claims are made for her which aren't quite… accurate."
It's hard to argue with Jericho999. Middlebrow is an unfortunate term. And while I love reading Du Maurier, I can also say that her writing lacks something. It's very effective, and vivid, but aside from a few delicious lines ("Last night I dreamed I went to Manderley again"), it isn't exactly quotable. It can be flabby. And it can be (as anyone who has read Frenchman's Creek will know) overwrought.
So where do we place Du Maurier? Is she good enough to hold her own against Papa? Has she been underestimated or overrated? Or do such questions even matter so long as we continue – in defiance of VS Pritchett – to enjoy her stories?
Over to you.
No comments:
Post a Comment