THE FICTION WRITER
by Jillian Cantor
The author of a Daphne du Maurier knockoff is asked to ghostwrite another du Maurier–adjacent story.
As Cantor, author of the Gatsby-inspired Beautiful Little Fools (2022), notes in her acknowledgments, “In many ways this novel is extremely meta, but what is more so than a fiction writer who just wrote a retelling, writing a novel about a fiction writer…who just wrote a retelling?” Actually, it’s quite a bit more complicated than that. Olivia Fitzgerald, struggling author of an unsuccessful book called Becky based on du Maurier’s classic Rebecca (“The death knell was the Kirkus review…calling Becky ‘a shoddy, ridiculous knockoff’ ”), is hired to write yet another version of the gothic romance by a hot, reclusive mega-billionaire who claims du Maurier stole his late grandmother’s life story. The chapters that unfold Olivia's trip to California to meet with Henry Asherwood are interspersed with excerpts from what seems to be yet another version of the story, titled The Wife; by whom it was written is unclear. There are also echoes of the Rebecca story arc in Ash’s own life. Everywhere you look, it seems, there are dead wives, unfriendly housekeepers, fires, and the sentence “Last night I dreamt I went to Malibu again,” which is clever but five repetitions seem like a lot. Our path through this house of mirrors is the burgeoning, quasi-forbidden romance between Ash (twice named People’s Sexiest Man Alive) and Olivia (“average-looking, curly-haired Jewish girl from suburban Connecticut”), unfurled in such a perfunctory and silly way that it’s possibly supposed to be funny. “Then I tried the scone—simultaneously spicy and sweet and unlike anything I’d tasted before. Unusual but intoxicating. Almost like Ash himself.” LOL. The clear point of the exercise is that literary retellings are not thievery—Rebecca itself can be seen as a retelling of Jane Eyre—but at a certain point one wonders if there's any reason to tell this story so many times.
An overwrought scaffolding draped with undercooked prose. Maybe if you really love du Maurier...