A Review of The Scapegoat
By Ludmila Rishkova
June 29, 2011
To start anew…
What would happen if one had a chance to start his or her life anew? One would start in the middle; of course, there is no going back to the very basics. The growing up is already accomplished, the complete shedding of the past is not quite possible, but still one gets a chance to start over. What would one do?
The Scapegoat by Daphne du Maurier presents just that.
It is a story about two men who share the same name and the same looks. One is English, the other French, and yet both share sufficient command of the other’s language for the switchover to pass unnoticed. One seeks belonging, the other release. Within each other they find what they seek, although John, the Englishman, does not lead the opening of the game. And herein lies the real tragedy of the switchover. For Jean de Gué, life itself is but a game. He does not seem to take anything seriously. His English counterpart, John, is not bored so easily. And why would he? Ever since his old identity had been stolen, he has gained something new. He is not quite Jean de Gué, whose shoes he cannot quite fill, but he is no longer John either. As the story develops, so does John. He learns to love and to belong to another man’s family, while they in turn also learn to love and to belong to him. Turns out each has what the other has not. John has tendresse and sentimentality, a yearning to understand, to minister to the greed. Jean has recklessness, carelessness, and maybe, only possibly maybe, a touch of love that is as fleeting and restless as himself.
The story is good, but it is also a story that has already been done and will be done again. The difference in the case of The Scapegoat is Daphne du Maurier and her writing style. The pace is slow, torturous, and mesmerizing. Her greatest gift is in setting the mood and painting the landscape, be it that of the grisly chateau falling apart, or the beautiful Béla in her sunlit apartment. The other strength of this particular novel is a woman’s perspective behind the character of a man. It’s not Daphne du Maurier that lends John his sensibility, but rather her style and her perspective. What she gave to one, she did not necessarily grant to the other, and this is how, towards the end of the novel, John sees that he couldn’t quite replace Jean. Reckless as he was, Jean proved, in a sense, irreplaceable. And yet, as Béla made him realize, Jean could never quite replace John either, for what John brought to the de Gué family was quite unique as well.
All’s well that ends well, and besides a few casualties, the ending winds down rather smoothly. There is harshness in it, as you see John letting go of everything that he learned to love in a short time, but there is hope in it too. There are no moral lessons to be taken from the novel (although one might if he truly wishes it); it is just a story of change and exchange. Of things given with love and taken rather carelessly.
What would one do if he or she had a chance to start their life anew? One would do what he knows best, and one would hardly stray far from his original character.
That said, the novel is a treat that needs to be savored slowly. One should follow the flow and the steady unfolding of the events rather than rush through. And yet, if any sentiment lingers after the reading, it is that, in the end, one will read the novel according to his own habits, and that is also just fine.