When you look at the premise for The Scapegoat it really shouldn't work, but such was du Maurier's skill as a writer, and such was her complete control of character and plot, that the reader never once pauses to question the plausibility of what is going on.
Two men, one a rather shabby French aristocrat called Jean, and the other a down-at-heel English teacher of French history called John, meet by chance in France. So far so ordinary but what brings the two men together is the fact that they look identical. Wishing to escape the tangled mess of his home life the Frenchman wines and dines his new found friend before leaving him drunk in a cheap hotel. The Englishman wakes up, wearing the other chap's clothes and with the other chap's papers. Understandably annoyed John finds himself almost against his will - and then with increasing relish and delight - playing the part of the French aristocrat: living in his house, being the head of the family, and running his double's business and entertaining his double's array of mistresses. As a plot device it's fascinating and du Maurier makes full use of the possibilities the storyline gives her. The French household which formerly had a swaggering bully at its head now has a sensitive and uncertain imposter pulling the strings and attempting to work out the past of the man whose role he has taken.
Perhaps even better than the set up of the novel are the characters of the people living in the French chateau. Jean's mother is doped-up to her eyeballs; his wife is sweet but easily manipulated; his sister, for reasons which only gradually emerge, refuses to talk to him while his brother understandably hates him because Jean appears to be having an affair with his wife. Finally, to cap it all, Jean's daughter suffers from religious visions and threatens to throw herself from one of the top floor windows every time she doesn't get her way. The whole plot and the bizarre cast of characters is almost like something from Edgar Allan Poe but from these surreal ingredients du Maurier makes a telling fable about the nature of identity; the desire (or otherwise) to do good rather than evil and the need at all times to work with your family and friends rather than against them.
It's a strange but beautifully written and rather haunting novel. While highly regarded by afficianados of all things Daphne the book has been sadly neglected by the general public which is shame. Du Maurier wasn't just a novelist of gothic romance, she could do intellectual and surreal as well and - brilliant though it is - it's rather a shame that Rebecca casts such a long shadow over the rest of her work. Honestly, if you were interested enough to read this review then buy yourself a copy of The Scapegoat straight away. It's fabulous.