‘My Cousin Rachel’ is so skillfully written that sometimes you cannot be quite sure what you’re reading: is it a gothic romance? A comedy of manners? A slow-burning thriller? Only the grisly opening, with the hanged man at Four Corners an object lesson, stands as an object lesson of the rough justice that prevails in Philip Ashley’s Cornish world. His devotion for his guardian, uncle Ambrose Ashley, is the center of his life; both men are confirmed bachelors, which makes Ambrose’s sudden infatuation with “my cousin Rachel” in Italy all the more confounding. When Ambrose abruptly marries her and settles in her villa in Florence, young Philip is shocked. Not eighteenth months later, uncle Ambrose is dead, of a presumed brain tumor, and cousin Rachel is on her way to Cornwall to return his things to his grieving nephew. Philip’s life is upended by the beautiful middle-aged Rachel, and her cosmopolitan ways, but something is not quite right about her. There are tantalizing hints in a few unsent letters from Ambrose and oddities in her behavior; with Philip, we must puzzle out her motives. No one writes about longing like DuMaurier—Philip’s desire is painful, as is his slowly dawning realization that Rachel may not be what she seems. Interestingly, DuMaurier also conveys the tenuousness of Rachel’s existence, helping the reader really feel what lengths a life of dependence might push a woman to. Fascinating.