Scapegoat

Ever since Rebecca, Daphne du Maurier has regularly disconcerted those critics who seem to assume that, to be great, a writer must be dull, obscure, and pretentious. The Scapegoat, which is none of these, is both an unashamed best-seller and by any test, a great novel. The extraordinary story takes hold of the reader and never lets go; the setting in a French chateau in these times is wholly real; the prose is simple and assured; and finally, the characters speak, act, and react precisely as they would have done in that family network of hatred, deceit, and jealousy. In particular the portrait of a neurotic child is exquisitely drawn. By an intriguing device the role of scapegoat for the sins of a charming, idle, and destructive French aristocrat and his family is thrust upon a lonely English traveller. His personality sets off a series of dramatic reactions, in which the author reveals a perfect comprehension of the chemistry of human nature.