One of the things I love about her is her complete lack of the anxiety of influence. The wind came in gusts, at times shaking the coach as it traveled round the bend of the road, and in the exposed places on the high ground it blew with such force that the whole body of the coach trembled and swayed, rocking between the high wheels like a drunken man.Īnd I remember how much I love Daphne du Maurier. The leather seats felt damp to the hands, and there must have been a small crack in the roof, because now and again little drips of rain fell softly through, smudging the leather and leaving a dark-blue stain like a splodge of ink.
The air was clammy cold, and for all the tightly closed windows it penetrated the interior of the coach. The weather had changed overnight, when a backing wind brought a granite sky and a mizzling rain with it, and although it was now only a little after two o’clock in the afternoon the pallor of a winter evening seemed to have closed upon the hills, cloaking them in mist. Then, one day, I open the book I’ve been neglecting, and it opens like this: I pick up a book, and set it on my shelf for a while, and the urgency and attraction fade. I tend to forget how much I enjoy some artists.
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