Rebecca. Rebecca. Rebecca. She was everywhere. She was indestructible. She was gone cold and still winning. She was the bursting rhododendrons. She was the engulfing fire. She was the ghost haunting the nameless narrator who sometimes I sympathize with but most of the time I despise thanks to her being very much spineless and ignorant of all the things she was supposed to be careful about (and being too oversensitive about all the things she wasn't supposed to care).

This story is hella complex if you ask me. It makes me feel things that aren't always a 'good' feeling, but that I believe is proof that I'm reading something that wasn't linear, monochromatic, black-and-white good-versus-evil. At times I feel like the protagonist, the second Mrs de Winter, is an unreliable narrator, and maybe she was. She saw everything through a particular, biased, even maybe deluded filter, and as much as I understand the difficulty of being too young of a soul to be sacked in that situation, she wasn't really helping herself here.

Moral of the story? I guess never marry before knowing your partner and definitely never do it in a rushed, head-spinning, lack-of-option manner. Oh, also: fighting the gone soul is a losing battle. End it before you started it.