Jamaica Inn
Jamaica Inn, by Daphne DuMaurier is one of those books that I first read as a young teenager, when I read in cycles, finishing everything by one author before moving on to the next. The summer I was fifteen, I think, was my DuMaurier summer, probably because we’d watched the miniseries with Jane Seymour and Trevor Eve, and because John McEnery, who played the albino vicar of Altarnun also played Kerensky in Nicholas and Alexandra, and I had a bit of a schoolgirl crush on him.
But, anyway. Yes. Jamaica Inn. It’s a mystery with gothic leanings, and chock full of sinister shadows, and lonely moors, as well as dashing horsethieves, and pirates who are far from dashing. I bought a used copy to take with me to Branson, MO for Thanksgiving, so that I wouldn’t care (much) if I left it behind. Instead, I found myself reading it in the bathroom in the wee hours of the morning.
DuMaurier’s work is a bit dated, of course, but her characters are always so much fun, it really doesn’t matter.
Daphne DuMaurier | Melissa | Tuesday: 22 November 2005 | 
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