I remember seeing Daphne du Maurier's novel Rebecca on various bookshelves when I was a teenager. I don't think I ever read it, or if did, I didn't appreciate the sensitivity of her characterization of the narrator, a young woman plagued by self-doubt after she marries the wealthy Maxim, master of Manderley, a "gray stone manse on the windswept Cornish coast." This is the kind of novel you think it's going to be after you read the first line: "Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again." Shivers. Hard to tear myself away to attend to normal daily tasks like getting dressed.