Books & Reviews 📚

Reading Daphne du Maurier books for the first time

Reading is kind of slow lately… but I’m glad I’m reading no matter how slow!

Daphne du Maurier (1907-1989) was an English author and playwright. She was known for her moody, so-call romantic, and supernatural plots. Her books are said to be as timeless as Michael Jackson’s music, so here I am.

Daphne du Maurier - The British Library

However, English literature is not exactly right up my alley, so I randomly chose 5 of this author’s books and tried not to read the synopsis or reviews. Had I known what I was getting into!

Book #168: My Cousin Rachel

My Cousin Rachel by Daphne du Maurier

I actually got to the end of this book, so yay! It was the first book I read from Du Maurier, but I was left wondering if she wrote a lot of stupid characters. Philip Ashley is probably the stupidest character I’ve ever met. He’s rich, spoiled, obsessive, and has no common sense… then the boring book ends. It just ends! But let’s play a game:

Me: Philip Ashley is so stupid.

Audience: How stupid is Philip Ashley?

Ashley is so stupid that when he discovers Rachel wastes money like tomorrow never comes, he actually gives her a great allowance to squander some more. When it gets out of hand, this numb skull gifts her his estate and inheritance. Also, all the clues were given to Stupid Ashley where it concerns the killing of his beloved uncle, but the fool ignored all the signs pertaining to the solving of the mystery. He’s so stupid!

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Rachel is quite the stupid character, too, and prettily stereotyped and all.

It was a dull classic with a meh predictable mystery for a highly acclaimed novel. I didn’t enjoy the writing style, the pacing is atrocious, the ending was rushed faster than Usain Bolt could claim gold, and I disliked the setting. Not my cup of coffee. Overall, I wasted time reading this book when I could’ve been reading…

Book #169: …Rebecca

Rebecca by Daphne Du Maurier, Sally Beauman - 9781844080380 - Dymocks

Where do I start? I actually dislike books in which the character/s doesn’t have a name… especially the main one. It’s quite annoying. The main character is dull, boring, and stupid just as Philip Ashley. Perhaps, even stupider and more annoying. Ooh, look at me, I have no name, therefore, I am intriguing and mysterious. Wrong, Nameless! You married a man that treats you like a child. What’s so good about that?

As for Maxi, murder is never the answer. No matter how wrong someone did you, you don’t go around killing people. Books like these are so off-putting. Plus, the author thinks it’s okay to describe every single flower/tree that is encountered and that alone can take up to 4 pages. 

It was a snooze fest and I couldn’t stay for the end. Nameless had no name, and it’s good that her parents didn’t name her, for they quickly figured out that their baby girl would grow up to have no personality.

After reading this book, I didn’t know how to feel to continue with her work for I disliked everything from the writing to the characters in this one. Tell me, Antoine, how am I supposed to feel?

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The Others

Jamaica Inn - Kindle edition by du Maurier, Daphne. Romance Kindle The House on the Strand eBook: du Maurier, Daphne ...Frenchman's Creek by Daphne du Maurier | Little, Brown and Company

Well, I didn’t really get anywhere with the other 3 books to be honest. I couldn’t get pass how horrible Joss Merlyn was in Jamaica Inn. I also couldn’t believe how stupid the protagonist Mary Yellan appeared. She witnessed at first-hand how terrible her uncle Joss is to her aunt Patience (The irony isn’t lost here regarding my patience with this author’s work) and still managed to stay. However, I didn’t stay for another second.

Giving this author a 4th chance, I turned to The House on the Strand, yawned and put it down as it suddenly dawned on me: Life is too short to read boring books.

As for Frenchman’s Creek, I chose it for two things: the beautiful cover and Frenchmen (duh!), but that was before I discovered how actually boring this author’s work was. I didn’t get anywhere with this book, but I put it down for two things: a grown married woman committing adultery with a pirate and the usage of the Lord’s Name in vain was overbearing. I don’t know if every 19th century spoiled aristocrat dreamt of escaping marriage to have affairs with dashing French pirates that read poetry (of course, of course, see how the Frenchman is typically, beautifully, and romantically stereotyped!), but this is not the adventurous trip I signed up for.

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Daphne Du Maurier is not my cup of coffee. Her writing sometimes fell flat and I did not get a sense of that glowing sophistication that’s always associated with her writing. Most, if not all of her work were too wordy and descriptive. And ALL of her characters were stupid. They lacked common sense and book sense; they were all pumped full of nonsense. Du Maurier books are torturing devices and I’m glad this ride is over for I’m…

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***GIFs/Images that don’t belong to LPM are via Google Search (Right-click for original source)


Football ⚽

And the star of the World Cup goes to..

No, it’s not Lionel Messi or even Cristiano Ronaldo.

When women tuned into the Morocco v Iran game on Friday, the social media world EX.PLO.DED! No, it was not because of one of the players, but a certain coach. Hervé Renard of Morocco!

There is actually more footage of the French coach than the match. Women took to social media to express the reason why they’re suddenly interested in the World Cup and yes, I might have rolled my eyes at some point. Some people said he looks like something called Jaime Lannister (or something of the foreign sort) from some show I’ve never seen (I think it’s Game of Thrones, but I don’t care for it), others said he should be on romance book covers (Fabio would have a cow!), the next James Bond, a male model, an actor, and some said he looks like Prince Charming from Shrek.

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Doesn’t even come close to the real thing…

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Even the commentators had a field day! They called him dashing and other glowing adjectives every time the camera landed on his face. And I’m sitting trying to enjoy the game wondering if they’ve never seen an attractive man before.

I like Renard. A lot. And he might have just boosted the female ratings for the WC, but he’s more than just a pretty weathered face in an immaculate white shirt. I’ve been a long time supporter of Renard. I was elated when he became the first coach to win 2 AFCON (African Cup of Nation) titles with Zambia and Ivory Coast and I threw my support behind him when he took on the Morocco job. I also think that he’s one of the most stylish coaches of all time despite his style being so effortlessly simple.

I’m not saying that it’s not nice to appreciate beauty, but we live in a world where everything has to be beautiful in order to be accepted or worshipped. This can easily turn into lust. I’m glad that I do not tune into football for the great looks, but for the game itself otherwise, I wouldn’t be enjoying the game. If good looks won games, then Renard definitely would’ve taken this World Cup, but he isn’t going to. I’m certain all the ladies who started watching the beautiful game just for him would abandon it when his team leaves. 

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Here’s a funny thought, though: the first time I laid eyes on Renard, I was like, “Did this man just stepped out of a romance novel?” I mean, here’s a suave dude with flowing shiny blond hair, astonishing eyes, nice bone structure, really nice tan and stubble and handsome ruggedness. He is the quintessential walking stereotype romantic Frenchman hopeless writers write about. 

Yes, he’s shockingly French looking, but the world is still spinning.

And thirsty ladies, the WC sensation is taken.

Yay for interracial goodness! 😃

#amwriting ✍


Short Story #15

Tattoos tell stories of love, war, courage, pain, and faith. So when Marilyn discovered the tattoos on her boyfriend’s lower back as he lay on the bed motionlessly and shirtless, she smiles at the discovery and traces a curious finger over the ink. Jean-Pierre Papin flinches slightly at the contact which she dismissed as an automatic reflex.

The tattoos were names and she smiles thinking that they were perhaps names of friends or relatives as she counts the small cursive names: five in total.

“Pierre?” she called out.

The Frenchman grunts knowing what was coming next. “Hmm?”

“What are these names?”

“They’re the names of my enemies.”

She gasps and pulls her hand back as if burned by a wicked fire. “Why put those names there then?”

“They’ve done me wrong at some point in life.”

“But it doesn’t make any sense.”

Why do things always have to make sense to a woman? Jean thought before coldly confessing, “I killed them.”

A thick eerie silence blanketed the room leaving Marilyn immobilized.

WORDS: 172