Rebecca: the trouble with the 2nd Mrs de Winter

Whilst the likeability or relatability of a character or narrator is irrelevant for judging literary merit, I can understand when readers don’t like the unnamed narrator of Rebecca, the 2nd Mrs de Winter (it’s only when they go on to dislike the book that is an issue).  
To be honest, sometimes I want to give her a slap. 
She is shy, introverted, socially awkward, naïve, inexperienced, deeply insecure, and very self-conscious. It makes sense that she is that way, being an orphan, having no money at the beginning of the story, and being a paid companion for a rich woman—she is, as I wrote before, acutely aware of her own place because she’s constantly reminded of it. For a moment, I wondered why she would be paid to be a companion, considering her introversion, dislike of social events and meetings, and incapacity for small talk, but I suppose that’s why the pompous Mrs Van Hopper wants her—she is docile, trustworthy enough, and wouldn’t take over or “steal the spotlight”, so to speak. 
It also makes perfect sense for the story. She is shy and socially awkward—that’s why she feels out of place at Manderley and can’t act properly as the mistress of the house. She is diffident and insecure—that’s why she keeps comparing herself to Rebecca and finds herself inferior in every way, failing to notice hints of Rebecca’s imperfections. 
1 thing I’ve learnt over the past year is that, if you’re in the position of an employer, manager, director, or anything of authority, etc. you have to act like it; if you let employees see your uncertainties, insecurities, and lack of experience, or worse, let them walk over you, it’s irreparable. Even if you’re not sure, fake it till you make it. I’m not kidding. The narrator of Rebecca, from the start, not only exposes her lack of class and experience, and fails to assert authority, but also lets employees take over, make decisions, and follow Rebecca’s ways. She makes herself an outsider, a guest, a person of no influence, by letting them run things and do things as Rebecca did. 
She is also very self-conscious, which can get irritating. Readers can see that she is very perceptive, and notices everything, even subtle changes of expression or signs of irritation that others fail to recognise, but lots of times she also replays things in her mind, fixates on people’s curiosity and judgment, and imagines things people say about her behind her back, such as guests, employees, and Maxim’s sister Beatrice. She gets more and more neurotic, imagining that everyone scrutinises her and dislikes her. 
She also becomes more obsessed with Rebecca. 
In this passage, the narrator justifies herself to the reader: 

“Frank had told me to forget the past, and I wanted to forget it. But Frank did not have to sit in the morning room as I did, every day, and touch the pen she had held between her fingers. He did not have to rest his hands on the blotter, and stare in front of him at her writing on the pigeonholes. He did not have to look at the candlesticks on the mantelpiece, the clock, the vase in which the flowers stood, the pictures on the walls and remember, every day, that they belonged to her, she had chosen them, they were not mine at all. Frank did not have to sit at her place in the dining room, hold the knife and fork that she had held, drink from her glass. He did not throw a coat over his shoulders which had been hers, nor find her handkerchief in the pocket. He did not notice, every day, as I did, the blind gaze of the old dog in its basket in the library, who lifted its head when it heard my footstep, the footstep of a woman, and sniffing the air drooped its head again, because I was not the one she sought.
Little things, meaningless and stupid in themselves, but they were there for me to see, for me to hear, for me to feel. Dear God, I did not want to think about Rebecca. I wanted to be happy, to make Maxim happy, and I wanted us to be together. There was no other wish in my heart but that. I could not help it if she came to me in thoughts, in dreams. I could not help it if I felt like a guest in Manderley, my home, walking where she had trodden, resting where she had lain. I was like a guest, biding my time, waiting for the return of the hostess. Little sentences, little reproofs reminding me every hour, every day.” (Ch.12) 

I guess I was harsh.  
But now I think I know what the real trouble is with the 2nd Mrs de Winter. 

“Maxim had to go up to London at the end of June to some public dinner. A man's dinner. Something to do with the county. He was away for two days and I was left alone. I dreaded his going. When I saw the car disappear round the sweep in the drive I felt exactly as though it were to be a final parting and I should never see him again. There would be an accident of course and later on in the afternoon, when I came back from my walk, I should find Frith white and frightened waiting for me with a message. The doctor would have rung up from some cottage hospital. "You must be very brave," he would say, "I'm afraid you must be prepared for a great shock."
And Frank would come, and we would go to the hospital together. Maxim would not recognize me. I went through the whole thing as I was sitting at lunch, I could see the crowd of local people clustering round the churchyard at the funeral, and myself leaning on Frank's arm. It was so real to me that I could scarcely eat any lunch, and I kept straining my ears to hear the telephone should it ring.
I sat out in the garden under the chestnut tree in the afternoon, with a book on my lap, but I scarcely read at all. When I saw Robert come across the lawn I knew it was the telephone and I felt physically sick. "A message from the club, Madam, to say Mr. de Winter arrived ten minutes ago."” (Ch.13)  

Her real trouble is: insecurity/ negative thinking + an active imagination + nothing to do. She reminds me of the women in Jane Austen’s Emma (read Tom’s post about the problem with “resources”). Nothing to do. But if Emma Woodhouse can go around, gossiping and matchmaking people, the 2nd Mrs de Winter can’t even do that. She’s more or less locked up in the house (not literally), having nothing to do, so naturally she spends time imagining people’s judgment of her, and thinking about Rebecca.