Legendary novelist Daphne du Maurier has long been held in high esteem for her tales of Cornish folk, and though not her masterpiece (Rebecca is widely regarded as du Maurier’s best work), Jamaica Inn certainly does nothing to damage her reputation for finely-crafted stories of thriller and suspense.
I’ll let you in to a secret. Jamaica Inn is actually the first du Maurier novel I’ve ever read, and the first book I’ve been able to concentrate on and get drawn into for quite some time. It’s gripping from the start, and considering it was written over 80 years ago, du Maurier can still show other writers how it’s done.
Set in Cornwall in the Victorian era, the book tells the story of young Mary Yellan from Helford, who goes to Jamaica Inn to live with her aunt and her husband. With a dark and brooding reputation for sinister goings-on, the inn itself has as much character as the humans portrayed within its walls and dimly-lit passages.
From the moment Mary arrives by stagecoach at Bodmin Moor on a wet and windy winter’s night, the story grips you, and as it unfolds, it clings to you, so that simply putting it down isn’t an option.
Du Maurier obviously had talent, as her second novel certainly doesn’t skimp on the details. Almost every nook and cranny of Jamaica Inn is described so well, that when I visited the real-life building on a sunny day in early September, I was disappointed by the tourist trap it has now become.
Rumour had it that a young du Maurier was inspired to write the book after getting lost in thick fog while horseriding and seeking refuge at the inn. A local vicar is said to have entertained her with ghost stories and smuggling tales, erstwhile becoming inspiration for one of the more enigmatic and mysterious characters in the book.
Along with the inn itself, the beautiful Cornish countryside is scripted in such vivid (and sometimes desolate) colour too, that the surroundings, like the inn itself, play as much a part of the story as Mary and the family and smuggling gangs that surround her. Her uncle, Joss, is a particularly nasty piece of work – his brother less so – and is well-deserved of his fearful reputation.
Slowly unravelling the horrors that Jamaica Inn has seen and continues to see, she confides in a local vicar, and her uncle’s brother, but is there really anyone she can trust?
Discovering and becoming part of the bloody and violent smuggling stories herself, Mary longs to draw attention to the wicked tales that are kept secret within the corridors and locked storage rooms of her uncle’s feared drinking establishment.
A compelling read, du Maurier brings each scene to life with her descriptions of settings and human emotions, leaving little to the imagination. And that’s why this book shines.
So little work is needed to set the scene that you can enjoy the story and follow its twist and turn-filled journey wholeheartedly, all the time enjoying the interaction between the characters and their relationships, and seeing how they (or how you think they) fit into the story.
Rebcecca is sitting on my bedside shelf, waiting to me to open its covers and begin reading its tales. On the basis of Jamaica Inn (and the promise of an even more wondrous and accomplished book), it won’t have to wait long.
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