A lingering sense of presence. A meal half-eaten, some crumbs wandering here and there, a tea cup with some sips abandoned, a note half written, a word half spelt. Every action abandoned is a part of someone. A part they left midway, untouched. Yet, a part that stayed in the closets of the time.

Rebecca is about this lingering presence, the gaze that never fades, the essence that stays. The narrator being a companion of Mrs Danvers comes across Max de Winter. Ages and worlds apart, yet they come together under the roof of time and after marriage live together in his house, Manderley. And, Manderley, the vividness, the whiff of flowers, the smells of memories, the abandonment, I loved each bit of the writing. Each thought poured in, so gleaming, so classic. I was drawn right from the page one.

Rebecca, how her absence is captured by the author was something I could imagine. How the presence of people blends with their absence, how their memories peep in from the corners of the house, how imprints never fade, how words live different skins and never die. How one woman’s dreams can be burnt by the sheer absence of another one – I mean, this book delves deep into layers and layers of varied themes that all I can say is that it’s a book that made me imagine quite vividly and feel quite deeply. I felt like it left its imprints on my skin. 

All in all, a book I couldn’t write much about in words yet each word felt like a tug, a memory, a secret, my heart must make space for. ✨
Ps – this is not a review. (拾)