Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier, is not typically my kind of book. I have been known to enjoy Pride and Prejudice, or something akin to it from time to time, but romance has never been my favorite sort of literature. I can't really pin point why I'm enjoying Rebecca so much. One, I particularly like the fact that the main character is nameless. I've never read any other book like that before, it's interesting. I also enjoy the manner in which the main character and Maxim de Winter meet in Monte Carlo. There's something about the typical byronic hero that tugs so predictably at my heart strings. I don't really like that it does so, it makes me feel like a typical weepy female who reads romance novels as some sort of emotional porn. I feel the same way the main character feels when Maxim shows her the smallest bit of affection, it's quite silly how I've identified with her so much. We're nothing alike, and thankfully so.
Countdown to Montreal with Amy during reading week continues: 2 days and counting, boys and girls. I really hope all of our plans don't fall through, or shit will hit the fan. 737 should be fun though, if I can find something suitably sexy yet non-slutty to wear. At least I have my shoes already decided on :)
posted by Joanna @ 12:13 AM
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