The Only Woman in the Room: A Novel

By Marie Benedict

THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER

THE USA TODAY BESTSELLER

Bestselling author Marie Benedict reveals the story of a brilliant woman scientist only remembered for her beauty.

Her beauty almost certainly saved her from the rising Nazi party and led to marriage with an Austrian arms dealer. Underestimated in everything else, she overheard the Third Reich's plans while at her husband's side and understood more than anyone would guess. She devised a plan to flee in disguise from their castle, and the whirlwind escape landed her in Hollywood. She became Hedy Lamarr, screen star.

But she kept a secret more shocking than her heritage or her marriage: she was a scientist. And she had an idea that might help the country fight the Nazis and revolutionize modern communication...if anyone would listen to her.

A powerful book based on the incredible true story of the glamour icon and scientist, The Only Woman in the Room is a masterpiece that celebrates the many women in science that history has overlooked.

Other Bestselling Historical Fiction from Marie Benedict:

The Mystery of Mrs. Christie

Lady Clementine

Carnegie's Maid

The Other Einstein

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sourcebooks
• Release date: Jan 8, 2019
• ISBN: 9781492666875

Marie Benedict

Marie Benedictis a lawyer with more than ten years’ experience as a litigator at two of the country’s premier law firms and for Fortune 500 companies. She is a magna cum laude graduate of Boston College with a focus in history and art history and a cum laude graduate of the Boston University School of Law. Marie, the author of The Other Einstein, Carnegie’s Maid, The Only Woman in the Room, and Lady Clementine, views herself as an archaeologist of sorts, telling the untold stories of women. She lives in Pittsburgh with her family.

Book preview

PART I

Chapter One

May 17, 1933

Vienna, Austria

My lids fluttered open, but the floodlights blinded me for a moment. Placing a discreet, steadying hand on my costar’s arm, I willed a confident smile upon my lips while I waited for my vision to clear. The applause thundered, and I swayed in the cacophony of sound and light. The mask I’d firmly affixed to myself for the performance slipped away for a moment, and I was no longer nineteenth-century Bavarian empress Elizabeth, but simply young Hedy Kiesler.

I couldn’t allow the theatergoers of the famed Theater an der Wien to see me falter in my portrayal of the city’s beloved empress. Not even in the curtain call. She was the emblem of the once-glorious Habsburg Austria, an empire that ruled for nearly four hundred years, and the people clung to her image in these humiliating days after the Great War.

Closing my eyes for a split second, I reached deep within myself, putting aside Hedy Kiesler with all her small worries and comparatively petty aspirations. I summoned my power and assumed the mantle of the empress once again, her necessary steeliness and her heavy responsibilities. Then I opened my eyes and stared out at my subjects.

The audience materialized before me. I realized that they weren’t clapping from the comfort of their plush, red-velvet theater seats. They had leaped to their feet in a standing ovation, an honor my fellow Viennese doled out sparingly. As the empress, this was my due, but as Hedy, I wondered whether this applause could truly be for me and not one of the other actors of Sissy. The actor who played Emperor Franz Josef to my Empress Elizabeth, Hans Jaray, was, after all, a legendary Theater an der Wien fixture. I waited for my costars to take their bows. While they awarded solid applause for the other actors, the theatergoers became wild when I took center stage for my bow. This was indeed my moment.

How I wished Papa could have watched my performance tonight. If Mama hadn’t feigned illness in an obvious ploy to take attention away from my important evening, Papa could have seen my Theater an der Wien debut. I know he would have reveled in this reaction, and if he had witnessed this adulation firsthand, it might have washed away the stain of my risqué performance in the film Ecstasy—a portrayal I desperately wished I could forget.

The sound of clapping started to grow fainter, and a chord of disquiet descended upon the audience as a procession of theater ushers paraded down the center aisle, arms laden with flowers. This grandiose gesture, with its inappropriate, very public timing, unsettled the otherwise reserved Viennese. I could almost hear them wonder who would have dared disrupt opening night at the Theater an der Wien with this audacious display. Only the overzealousness of a parent could have excused it, but I knew my cautious parents would have never dared the gesture. Was it one of my fellow actors’ families who’d made this misstep?

As the ushers proceeded closer to the stage, I saw that their arms brimmed not with ordinary flowers but with exquisite hothouse roses. Perhaps a dozen bouquets. How much would this abundance of rare red blooms cost? I wondered who could afford the decadence at a time like this.

The ushers mounted the stairs, and I understood that they’d been instructed to deliver these bouquets to their intended recipient in full view of the audience. Uncertain how to manage this breach of decorum, I glanced at the other actors, who looked equally perplexed. The stage manager gesticulated to the ushers to halt this display, but they must have been well paid because they ignored him and lined up in front of me.

One by one, they handed me the bouquets until my arms could no longer hold them all, at which time the ushers laid them at my feet. Up and down my spine, I felt the disapproving glances of my castmates. My stage career could rise or fall upon the whims of these venerable actors; they could dislodge me from this pinnacle with a few well-placed words and replace me with any one of the number of young actresses clamoring for this role. I felt compelled to refuse the bouquets, until a thought struck me.

The giver could be anyone. He could be a prominent member of one of the feuding government parties—either a conservative Christian Social Party member or a socialist Social Democrat. Or worse, my benefactor could sympathize with the National Socialist Party and long for the unification of Austria with Germany and its newly named chancellor, Adolf Hitler. The pendulum of power seemed to sway with each passing day, and no one could afford to take chances. Least of all me.

The audience had stopped clapping. In the uncomfortable silence, they settled back into their seats. All except one man. There, in the center of the third row, the most prized seat in the theater, stood a barrel-chested and square-jawed gentleman. Alone among all the patrons of the Theater an der Wien, he remained standing.

Staring at me.

Chapter Two

May 17, 1933

Vienna, Austria

The curtain fell. My fellow actors shot me quizzical looks, and I gave them a shrug and a shake of my head that I hoped conveyed my confusion and disapproval of the gesture. As quickly as seemed appropriate amid the congratulations, I returned to my dressing room, shutting the door. Anger and worry surged through me at how these flowers distracted from my triumph, this role that would help me firmly put Ecstasy behind me. I needed to find out who’d done this to me—and whether it was meant as a compliment, however misguided, or something else.

Pulling out the envelope hidden amid the flowers of the largest bouquet, I reached for my nail scissors and slit it open. I pulled out a heavy cream card rimmed in gold. Holding it close to the lamp on my dressing table, I read:

To an unforgettable Sissy. Yours, Mr. Friedrich Mandl

Who was this Friedrich Mandl? The name sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it.

My dressing room door shuddered with an authoritative knock. Miss Kiesler? It was Mrs. Else Lubbig, veteran dresser to the star of every Theater an der Wien production for the past twenty years. Even during the Great War and the despondent years following the Austrian loss, the gray-haired matron had assisted actors onto the stage for the performances that buoyed the Viennese spirits, like the character of Empress Elizabeth, who reminded the people of Austria’s historical prowess and prompted them to imagine a promising future. The play, of course, didn’t touch upon the later years of the empress, when the golden tether of the emperor’s displeasure became a yoke around her neck, constricting her every movement. The Viennese people didn’t want to think about that, and they were expert at denial.

Please come in, I called out.

Without a single glance at the profusion of roses, Mrs. Lubbig began unlacing me from my sun-yellow gown. As I rubbed cream into my face to wipe away the heavy stage makeup and the last vestiges of my character, she brushed out my hair from the complicated chignon the director thought befitted Empress Elizabeth. Although Mrs. Lubbig was silent, I sensed that she was biding her time until she asked the question undoubtedly buzzing around the theater.

Beautiful flowers, miss, Mrs. Lubbig commented finally, after she complimented my performance.

Yes, I answered, waiting for her true question.

May I ask who they are from? she asked, turning her attention from my hair to my corset.

I paused, weighing my response. I could lie and attribute the flowery gaffe to my parents, but this bit of gossip was currency with which she could trade, and if I shared the answer with her, she would owe me a favor. A favor from Mrs. Lubbig could be quite useful.

I smiled up at her, handing her the card. A Mr. Friedrich Mandl.

She said nothing, but I heard a sharp intake of breath that spoke volumes. Have you heard of him? I asked.

Yes, miss.

Was he in the theater tonight? I knew Mrs. Lubbig watched every performance from the wings, always scanning her assigned actress so she could readily assist with a torn hem or a lopsided wig.

Yes.

Was he the man who remained standing after the final applause?

She sighed. Yes, miss.

What do you know of him?

I wouldn’t like to say, miss. It isn’t my place.

I hid my smile at Mrs. Lubbig’s false modesty. In many ways, with her treasure trove of secrets, she wielded more power than anyone else at the theater.

You would be doing me a great service.

She paused, patting her immaculately upswept hair, as if considering my supplication. I’ve only heard gossip and rumor. Not all of it flattering.

Please, Mrs. Lubbig.

I watched her in the mirror, seeing her finely lined face work as if she was sifting through the carefully kept dossier in her mind to decide upon the appropriate morsel of information.

Well, Mr. Mandl has quite a reputation with women.

Along with every other man in Vienna, I said with a chuckle. If that was all, I needn’t worry. Men, I could handle. Most anyway.

It’s a bit more than the usual chicanery, miss. One particular romance led to the suicide of a young German actress, Eva May.

Oh my, I whispered, although, given my own past history of breaking hearts and an attempted suicide on the part of a suitor when I rejected him, I could not judge too harshly. While terrible, this tidbit was not everything she knew. I sensed from her tone that she was still withholding something, that she had more to report. But Mrs. Lubbig was going to make me work for it. If there’s more, I would be in your debt.

She hesitated. It’s the sort of information one feels cautious about sharing these days, miss. In these uncertain times, knowledge was currency.

I took her by the hand and stared into her eyes. This information is for me only, for my safety. I promise you that it will not be shared with anyone else.

After a long pause, she said, Mr. Mandl owns the Hirtenberger Patronenfabrik. His company manufactures munitions and other military weaponry, miss.

An unsavory business, I suppose. But someone must do that work, I said. I couldn’t see why the industry must be the man.

It isn’t so much the armaments he manufactures, but the people to whom he sells them.

Oh?

Yes, miss. They call him the Merchant of Death.

Chapter Three

May 26, 1933

Vienna, Austria

Nine days after my stage debut in Sissy, a gibbous moon loomed over the Viennese sky, leaving dark-violet shadows in its wake. It emitted enough light to illuminate the city streets, so I decided to walk the remainder of the way home from the theater in the fashionable nineteenth district and hopped out of the cab, even though the hour was late. I longed for the quiet interlude, a pause between the post-performance theater madness and the parental inundation I had been getting at home after each performance.

The sidewalks contained only a few passersby, a gray-haired couple ambling home after a late dinner, a whistling young man, and I felt safe enough. The route home grew increasingly affluent and well-heeled the closer I got to my parents’ home in the neighborhood of Döbling, so I knew the streets would be safe. But none of this would have appeased my parents’ concerns if they had known I was walking alone. They were very protective of their only child.

Pushing aside thoughts of Mama and Papa, I allowed myself to smile over the review published in Die Presse this week. The glowing words about my portrayal of Empress Elizabeth had led to a run on ticket sales, and the theater had been standing room only the past three evenings. My status in the theater ranks had grown, with audible compliments from our usually critical director. The accolades felt good after the scandal of my nudity in Ecstasy—a decision that had seemed acceptable and in keeping with the artistic sensibility of the film until the public, my parents among them, reacted with shock—and I knew that the return to the theater after my foray into film had been the right decision. It was like coming home.

Acting had been a ward against childhood loneliness, a way to fill my quiet existence with people beyond the ever-present nanny and tutor but the ever-absent Mama and Papa. It started as the simple creation of characters and stories for my many dolls on an impromptu stage created under the huge desk in Papa’s study, but then, unexpectedly, role-playing became much, much more. When I went to school—and suddenly became introduced to a wide, dizzying array of people—acting became my way of moving through the world, a sort of currency upon which I could draw whenever I needed. I could become whatever those around me secretly longed for, and I, in turn, got whatever I wanted from them. It wasn’t until I stepped on my first stage, however, that I comprehended the breadth of my gift. I could bury myself and assume the mask of an entirely different person, one crafted by a director or a writer. I could turn my gaze on the audience and wield my capacity to influence them.

The only darkness cast over all this light from Sissy was the nightly delivery of roses. The color had changed, but the volume did not. I had received fuchsia, pale pink, ivory, bloodred, even a rare, delicate violet, but always exactly twelve dozen. It was obscene. But at least the method of delivery had changed. No longer did the ushers bestow my roses onstage with a grand flourish; now, they discreetly placed them in my dressing room during the show’s final act.

The mysterious Mr. Mandl. I thought I had seen him amid the theatergoers in the coveted third-row seat on several occasions, but I wasn’t certain. He had made no effort to communicate with me after the letter accompanying the first roses—until tonight. A gold-rimmed card tucked between vibrant yellow blooms—precisely like the color of my gown—contained the handwritten words:

Dear Miss Kiesler, I would very much like the honor of taking you to dinner at the restaurant at the Hotel Imperial after the performance. If this is amenable to you, please send word to my chauffeur, who will be waiting at the stage door until midnight. Yours, Mr. Friedrich Mandl

While my parents would despair if I even considered meeting a strange man unaccompanied—particularly at a hotel restaurant, even if it was the landmark establishment created by architect Josef Hoffmann—the knowledge I’d gathered about Mr. Mandl ensured that I would not cross that breach. Cautious inquiries had yielded more information about my mysterious benefactor. The few friends I had in the insular theater world had heard he was driven by profit, not the morality of those to whom he sold his weaponry. But the most salient nugget came unprompted from the purveyor of secrets, Mrs. Lubbig, who whispered that Mr. Mandl was favored by the crop of right-wing autocrats that were springing up all over Europe. This report troubled me most of all, as Austria was struggling to maintain its independence while geographically surrounded by land-hungry dictatorships.

But while I didn’t dare dine with him at the Hotel Imperial, I couldn’t continue my practice of ignoring him entirely. By all accounts, Mr. Mandl was a politically connected man, and the current situation required that all Viennese act cautiously. Still, I didn’t know how to properly manage his attention, as all my past dalliances had been with malleable young men close to my own age. Until I could formulate a plan, I enlisted Mrs. Lubbig’s help to distract Mr. Mandl’s chauffeur so I could sidestep the stage door and exit out the front.

My heels tapped in a staccato rhythm as I continued my progress to Peter-Jordan-Strasse. I ticked off the familiar homes of our neighbors as I neared what my parents referred to as our cottage, a misnomer that all Döbling residents used to describe their houses. The name was meant as an homage to the English architectural style of the neighborhood’s large airy homes, built around enclosed family gardens, but it belied their substantial size.

A few houses away from my parents’ home, the light seemed to diminish. I glanced up to see if clouds were obscuring the moon, but it continued to shine brightly. I had never noticed the phenomenon before, but then I almost never walked alone into our neighborhood at night. I wondered if the darkness could be explained by the proximity of Peter-Jordan-Strasse to the dense Vienna Woods, the Wienerwald, where Papa and I liked to take our Sunday walks.

There was not a twinkle of electric light on the block save for my parents’ home. Pitch-black windows with the occasional hint of dwindling candlelight stared back at me from the houses bordering that of my parents, and I suddenly remembered the reason for the increased darkness. Many of the inhabitants of our Döbling enclave honored the tradition of refraining from electrical use beginning at sundown on Friday until sundown on Saturday, even though their religious habits didn’t incline toward the orthodoxy that mandated such a practice. I’d forgotten because it was a practice my parents had never observed.

It was the Sabbath in Döbling, a Jewish neighborhood in a Catholic land.

Chapter Four

May 26, 1933

Vienna, Austria

The moment I crossed the threshold, I was assaulted with the scent. I didn’t need to see the roses to know that the entire house was bursting with them. Why on earth had Mr. Mandl sent them here as well?

The desultory chords of Bach sounded out from the Bechstein grand piano in the parlor. As the door clicked shut behind me, the music stopped, and my mother called out, Hedy? Is that you?

As I handed my coat to Inge, our housemaid, I called back, Who else would it be at this hour, Mama?

Papa came out of the parlor to greet me. With an intricately carved wooden pipe dangling from the corner of his mouth, he asked, "How is our Empress Elizabeth? Did you ‘own the stage’ as Die Presse proclaimed?"

I smiled up at my tall Papa, handsome even with gray at his temples and wrinkles around his blue eyes. Even at this late hour, after eleven o’clock, he was immaculately dressed in a pressed charcoal suit with a striped burgundy tie. He was ever the reliable, successful manager of one of Vienna’s most prominent banks, the Creditanstalt-Bankverein.

He took me by the hand, and for a moment, I was reminded of my childhood weekend afternoons when he would patiently answer all my questions about the world and its workings. No query was off-limits, whether historical or scientific, about literature or politics, and I gobbled up my time with him, the only with his undivided attention. On one favorite sunlit afternoon, he’d spent a full hour describing the nature of photosynthesis in response to my childlike ruminations on what plants ate; his patience in answering my relentless questions about the natural world and the physical sciences never faltered. But those hours were few, as Mama and work and social obligations demanded nearly every other piece of him. And without him, I faced long hours of rote schoolwork with teachers or homework and routines with my nanny and, to a lesser extent, Mama, who paid attention to me only when I sat before a piano and she berated my skills. Even though I adored music, I now only played the piano when Mama wasn’t at home.

Leading me into the parlor, he settled me into one of the four brocade chairs that surrounded the fireplace, which was lit for the cool spring evening. As we waited for Mama to join us, Papa asked, Are you hungry, my little princess? We could have Inge prepare a plate for you. You still look too skinny after that bout of pneumonia.

No, but thank you, Papa. I ate before the performance.

I glanced around the room, family portraits crowding the walls already busy with their striped wallpaper, and saw that someone—my mother, most likely—had arranged the dozen bouquets of pale-pink roses artfully around the room. But for a single raised eyebrow, Papa remained silent on the subject of the flowers. We both knew that Mama would dole out the questions.

Mama entered the room and busied herself with pouring a glass of schnapps. Without speaking a word or meeting my eye, she conveyed her disappointment in me.

The room grew quiet while we waited for Mama to speak.

It seems you have an admirer, Hedy, Mama said after a long draw on her schnapps.

Yes, Mama.

What could you have possibly done to encourage such a display? Her tone held its usual judgment. The finishing school she’d insisted upon had failed to polish me into the marriageable, young hausfrau-in-training for which she’d hoped. When I’d pursued a profession she deemed crass, even though the theater was held in high esteem among the Viennese, she had decided that, very likely, all my behavior followed suit. And sometimes, I admit, I obliged her with whatever young man I was currently allowing to court me. I’d occasionally let certain suitors—whether the aristocratic Ritter Franz von Hochstetten or the upstart actor and Ecstasy costar Aribert Mog—touch me in all the ways that Mama imagined, in my own private rebellion against her. Why not? I asked myself. She thought I was engaging in the salacious behavior anyway. And I liked learning that the power I had over men mirrored the power I had over the audience—to keep them in my thrall.

Nothing, Mama. I have never even met the man.

"Why would a man give you all these roses if you’ve given him nothing in return? If you don’t even know him? Has this man seen your reprehensible Ecstasy perhaps and figured you for a loose woman?"

Papa interjected rather sharply, Enough. Perhaps it was the gift of her performance, Trude. Mama’s given name was Gertrude, and Papa only called Mama by her nickname when he was trying to soften her.

After smoothing an errant black hair back into her perfect coif, Mama rose. Looking much taller than her tiny five feet, she strode over to her desk, where the bouquet bearing the card sat. She reached for her silver letter opener and sliced open the familiar cream envelope.

Holding the gilt-edged card close to the lamplight, she read aloud:

To Mr. and Mrs. Kiesler, I have been fortunate enough to watch your daughter play Empress Elizabeth four times

Reviews for The Only Woman in the Room

[Sarah Wannell · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Fabulous book. So true about how women’s contributions have been thwarted for generations and how this has shaped history. It’s enough to make you weep with despair.

[RG · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

I can’t believe I never knew the story before, of who Hedy Lamarr really was. What a fascinating woman with a fascinating life. This was a heartbreakingly resonant illustration of the prejudice against women that permeated that time period…and lingers into this one. It’s been along time since I’ve read a book that moved me so much, and for which I was so grateful.

[BonnieWhite · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Hedy Lamar , who knew? First marriage, escape from Austria. Second stage acting career and WWII .

[ER_Lennox · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I enjoy that it's written in the first person because the 'experience' is better with the idea of what it might have been like, but I struggled to 'suspend my belief' to an extent as the narrative never embraced the voice of an intellect and inventor---someone more analytical. Some parts just felt a bit too forced / contrived--rather than as nuanced as someone obviously so complex. Put simply, the traces of the creative writer were left a tad too visible (hence, less a star).

Nonetheless, what a story! It was certainly an astounding life... an accomplished stage and film actress, a whirlwind romance to a charming older man that transforms into a espionage partnership and 'relationship' of domestic violence---endured for the sake of family and country--, a planned escape that spared her from Nazi persecution and her husband's powerful grasp, a Hollywood starlet career that she manifested with a good dose of moxie, and finally the autonomy she sought to enable her to compensate for her survivor's guilt through grit, invention---while still facing anti-Semitism and misogyny through the end. Each of these 'chapters' of her life could have been a life unto itself and the book does a great job of illustrating / explaining Hedy's ability--ever the actress--to reinvent herself with each 'role' she plays.

And I wish the author's note was at the start of the story---not the end! I do greatly admire the author's ambition to revise history with the stories of women's contributions and successes that have been systematically ignored and denied.

[suesbooks · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

historical fiction about hedy lamaar. benedict presented her extremely positively. interesting to learn about protagonist's many facets and experiences. very beautiful woman, high intellect, and also involved in scientific discoveries now used in cell phones. details regarding austria and germany before and during world war II which unfortunately are also very relevant to conditions today.

[rlsalvati · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

This felt light, and the complete lack of bibliography has me wondering exactly what parts of this novel I can trust. Now to go find a more substantial book about this subject....

[yarncatsnbooks · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

As usual a well researched and intriguing book about a woman who had much more to her than most people know.

[debs4jc · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

A biographical novel of the life of Hedy Lamarr - born Hedwig Keisler in Austria. She loved acting, but some early choices in her film career gave her a questionable reputation. Then a influential arms merchant comes calling - and Hedy ends up a miserable marriage. One of the best parts of the book are the chapter detailing her attempts to escape from him. She eventually does and ends up on a ship to America, stardom, new relationships, and a continuing battle to be more than just a pretty face. I liked how the book portrayed her intellectual curiosity and tenacity, qualities that were not often appreciated by society. There was quite a bit to think about and discuss with other after reading this book, it was a great choice for my book group and I would definitely recommend it.

[booklover1801 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Hedwig Kiesler, the only child of assimilated Jewish parents, was born in Vienna, Austria, and achieved fame during the late 1930s and the 1940s in Hollywood. She was an exotic beauty who appeared in films with Charles Boyer, Spencer Tracy, James Stewart, and Clark Gable. In 1937--before the Nazi takeover of Austria--Hedy left her homeland and her controlling husband, moved to London, and settled in California. Hedy signed a contract with MGM's Louis B. Mayer who changed her named from Kiesler to the more glamorous "Lamarr."

In Marie Benedict's novel, "The Only Woman in the Room," Hedy recounts her professional accomplishments, discusses her intimate relationships, and bemoans society's objectification of women. This is by no means a comprehensive examination of Hedy Lamarr's long, eventful, and in many ways, tragic life. The author focuses on Hedy's grief when her beloved father dies; her failed marriages; lackluster movie roles; and disappointment at the refusal of the United States Navy to adopt a brilliant system that Hedy devised with George Antheil that would have made it easier to precisely control radio-guided torpedoes using "unjammable frequencies."

This is a relatively brief but fascinating look at a highly intelligent and mostly self-taught woman who did not wish to be defined by her appearance. She was torn between the demands of her film career, the responsibilities of motherhood and marriage, and her passion for creating innovative solutions that would benefit mankind. Although Benedict's writing style and dialogue are, for the most part, stilted and cliché-ridden, this is still a mesmerizing tale of a gifted individual who was way ahead of her time. Hedy's exquisite looks and fame as a motion-picture actress were mixed blessings, since few people took her scientific contributions seriously. Decades later, Lamarr's groundbreaking ideas would lead to breakthroughs in wireless technology that were precursors to cell phones, Bluetooth, and Wifi.

[riofriotex · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

This is a fictionalized partial biography about the early years (from 1933 to 1942) of the actress Hedy Lamarr. Born Hedwig Kiesler in Austria, the book opens with the beautiful Hedy starring in Sissy, a play about Empress Elisabeth of Austria, at age 19 in Vienna. She has a persistent suitor in the audience, the wealthy weapons manufacturer Fritz Mandl, She agrees to marry him with hopes that he can protect her Jewish parents from the encroaching German Nazis.

Hedy lives a life of luxury - and mostly boredom - with Fritz, who doesn't allow her to continue acting. They host parties for Mussolini, Hitler, and other fascists. Hedy learns a lot about what may be coming to Austria just by listening and playing the role of the decorative wife. Eventually, Mandl's control of her becomes unbearable, and she escapes, ultimately arriving in Hollywood and starting a film career.

Still cast mostly as a pretty face, Hedy finds fulfillment tinkering with inventions. She worked with her friend, the composer and pianist George Antheil, to develop a radio guidance system for Allied torpedoes that used a code (stored on a punched paper tape) to synchronize frequency changes, referred to as frequency hopping, between the transmitter and receiver, reducing the chances that the signals might be tracked or jammed. They actually received a patent for the invention, but it was not adopted by the U. S. Navy - the implication being that it was because Lamarr was a woman, and an actress to boot. That conclusion - and the premise that Lamarr felt compelled to find a solutiom to the torpedo signal-jamming problems due to supposed guilt over not doing more to stop Hitler's advance into Austria - were rather far-fetched.

Told in first person, I was disappointed with the writing in this book. Nevertheless, I'm glad I read it and learned more about Hedy Lamarr's background and invention.

[lrobe190 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Interesting story. Writing isn't great. Doesn't really focus on what, if anything, makes her great.

[romonko · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I have always been a fan of Hedy Lamarr but never really took the time to research her history.. She starred in quite a few films that I have enjoyed but I never delved into her biography. This book portrays Hedy like we've never seen or thought of her before. Hedy was born Hedwig Kiesler in Austria on November 9, 1914. By the time she was 19 she was a well-known actress on the Austrian stage and film. Hedy was born to be an actress. She found that by donning different personas, she was able to navigate her life with a rather difficult mother and a father she adored. Hedy catches the eye of a powerful Austrian gun merchant when she is 19 and is swept off her feet and marries him. It doesn't take long for Hedy to realize that Fritz wants her for a trophy wife and to show off to his powerful friends, and to him she is just a possession. But underneath that truly beautiful exterior lies a mind as sharp as a steel trap. Hedy never lets her very intelligent mind show to her autocratic husband. She waits and gathers information from the endless dinner parties that they attend as a couple, and when it looks like Austria is going to be taken over by the Third Reich, she makes her move and escapes---first to England and then to Hollywood where she makes many movies for Louis B. Mayer, and becomes famous. But all the time she can't forget her friends and family left back in Austria as the Nazis do take over Austria eventually. Hedy comes from a Jewish family, and she knows the danger all Jews will face so she makes every effort to get her mother away. While filming movies in Hollywood, Hedy and her friend George who is a composer, work on a remote detonating system for torpedos. They develop a system that is fool-proof as well as totally untraceable. The US Department of Defence turns Hedy and George down. But they don't tell Hedy that they will be working on the project secretly and implementing on their own. No credit or remuneration goes to Hedy or George. Such was life in the 1940's in America. They would never admit that the idea had come from a woman. Hedy went unrecognized for her massive invention that did in fact, lead to the ultimate creation of the world-wide web. This was a very well-researched book, and I enjoyed the story. It is a fictionalized version of her story but told with actual historical events and people, She was indeed a remarkable woman and "the only woman in the room"..

[sanyamakadi · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This fictionalized account of the life of Hedy Lamarr was written in the first person, which is NOT my thing, so I found that a bit hard to get past. Nevertheless the story was engaging, and I learned a lot about her early life. And the way she came to invent the randomizing frequencies for torpedoes that became the precursor of wifi was fascinating. I don't know if it was historical record or artistic license that had the military refusing her potentially war-ending invention because "the military could never trust technology invented by a woman" but it was infuriating just the same.

[terran_9 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I did not know much about Hedy Lamarr other than that she was a beautiful Hollywood star. This is an interesting portrayal of her early acting career in Austria, marriage to a munitions manufacturer and her flight to escape before Germany invaded her homeland.
Throughout the book, Hedy felt she was playing a role and not living a real life. Although she was very intelligent, her lifestyle meant that she was appreciated primarily for her looks and treated poorly by the men in the movie industry.
I felt that her inventions were glossed over and no explanation was given as to how she came by the knowledge her extensive scientific knowledge.

[thornton37814 · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Author Marie Benedict provides a biographical fictional account of Hedy Lamarr's life. Beginning with the lead-up to Hitler's rise to power, we see Hedy's Austrian family's awareness of eminent danger to Jews. Her family sees she marries a man who can provide her safety. Is she really safe though when he tries to control her and abuses her. Unfortunately the poor writing and my own lack of interest in all things Hollywood made this a poor selection for our book club. (Some sentences felt like they came from an elementary reader.) A straightforward biography would provide insights into the more fascinating parts of her life without fictional discourses which probably did not play out as the author wrote them.

[dinahmine · Rating: 1 out of 5 stars]

While I don’t doubt that Hedy Lamarr lived a fascinating life or that she was a brilliant woman, neither of those things were well-shown by Benedict. I was bored, so bored. And when I wasn’t bored I was annoyed, both by the unimpressive writing and by Hedwig’s character – for a woman with a “stunning mind” the poor main character was portrayed as being entirely clueless. I DNF’d on page 83, after Hedy asked *EIGHT questions in TWO pages*. If you want the reader to believe that a woman is courageous and intelligent, maybe don’t make it appear that she is quite so cowardly and dim-witted.

[quirkylibrarian · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I can’t say the writing was great, but the story was engaging, more so when I realized it was about Hedy Lamarr and based, at least in part, on a true story.

[porte01 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Throughout this entire novel, though interesting and absorbing, I found it impossible to engage with Hedy as a character. It is not until the final few pages of the book, (which are outstanding), that we get a glimpse of the real Hedy, as well as further illumination of the authors ultimate message. How can we not be moved by the failures of past generations to recognize and validate their women and their accomplishments? With fresh eyes and our current broader societal context, Hedy Lamar, in her entirety, can now be appreciated and is transformed into a wonderful role model for generations now and to come.

[carriewuj · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Leaning toward 2.5. Great topic - I had no idea Hollywood legend Hedy Lamarr escaped Nazi Austria, let alone in such a dramatic way, or that she had worked on inventing technology that could have been useful to the Allies in WWII weaponry and also laid a foundation for our current cell phone. Brains and a pretty face! This gets hammered home a lot and gets a little tiresome because it's already apparent to the reader. As historical fiction, the story takes precedence over biography but it trips along with dated entries - the reader can see the war looming and can see the implications of things that Hedy can't - and really only skims the surface. Told in first-person, the narration does so much telling rather than showing that I was missing the depth and complexity that surely existed in much of her life. It also skims over a lot of the moral complexity - yes, Hedy is plagued by guilt that she got out, but again, she tells us that - with lots of description, but it is still not the same as feeling it. This felt more like a topic to be championed (which is done well) rather than a person to be inhabited and understood. Hooray for local publisher Sourcebooks!

[deltaqueen50 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Although I am a fan of vintage movies and have enjoyed Hedy Lamarr in many roles, I really didn’t know that much about her personal life so I was looking forward to The Only Woman in the Room by Marie Benedict. Unfortunately although the author supplied many interesting details about the life of this actress and inventor, the actual writing was not the best.

The book takes place during the 1930s and 40s and covers Hedy’s life in Austria as a young actress and then as the wife of a powerful arms dealer. She escapes both her controlling husband and the ever growing threat of the Nazis, emigrates to America and becomes a famous silver screen persona. Oh yes, she also is the brains behind an invention that both helped during the war and is still relevant today. A lot to cover and the book is less than 300 pages so it’s pretty obvious that a lot of this information was simply skimmed over.

The Only Woman in the Room was meant to show how multi-faceted Hedy Lamarr was but the story definitely suffered from boring writing and an author that chose to put her descriptive powers into the details of the main character’s gowns and looks, and didn’t do much to help the readers see her intelligence or her more scientific side.

[cherybear · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Hedwig (Kiesler) Mandl escapes from Austria, and from her controlling, violent, husband, who was originally opposed to Nazism, but later supplied Hitler with weapons. Hedwig becomes known as the actress Hedy Lamarr. Feeling guilty for knowing Hitler's plans for Jews and Austria, she experiments with inventions she hoped would help the Allies win the war. Her inventions were not recognized or used during her lifetime. The book takes some historical liberties, but much is based on facts. It is well written, with interesting characters.

[Ingeniando Ando · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

A glamorous Hollywood star from the golden age of American cinema, undoubtedly one of the most beautiful faces of her time, but also a woman with a privileged mind, whose genius went unnoticed by the thousands of spectators who attended her films. This book is a biographical novel about the life of Hedy Lamarr, an actress of Austrian origin, whose personal story far exceeded any fictional story in which she herself acted in cinema.

The book is divided into two parts. In the first, we will learn about the beginnings of a promising actress of Jewish descent in a Europe that was under the threatening cloud of fascism. This will trigger events that will force her to make complicated decisions to protect her family. The second part narrates her escape from Europe and arrival in the United States, where she would carve a path for herself as an actress but also as an inventor, eager to help the cause of the Allies fighting against the Nazi invasion.

In the historical context that the book presents, I found the account of Hedy fascinating, who broke the stereotypes that a beautiful actress only serves for the delight of men, as she went beyond that by demonstrating that she could also be a thoughtful and extremely brilliant woman. With the ability to design a communication system to guide naval torpedoes, which today forms the basis for everyday technologies we use, such as wifi and Bluetooth. Unfortunately, in her time, she was sidelined and did not receive recognition for her invention due to being a woman, but such books help to remember and acknowledge the merit she had. (Translated from Spanish)

[beth_german-590755 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

I enjoyed this more than my three star rating may show. My reasoning for a lower rating is because I would have preferred more depth in her relationships and for the story to have continued further into her life. However, I appreciate the detail this story provided and the spring-board it gave me for doing my own research on this fascinating woman.

[nwieme-1 · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

Perfect book for Women's History Month! I had no idea what this was about when I pulled it off the shelf (without glasses to read the blurb). It was about Hedy Lamarr and her rise as a Jewish girl in Austria just before WWII... and her amazing spirit, incredible courage and ingenious invention that could have had a huge impact on the war - but an invention by a "movie star" and a musician was unfortunately ignored. Of course, as stated in the Author's Note - her invention led to something you probably use EVERY DAY!!!

What a great book!!

[linda.marsheells · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

fascinating. had to keep reminding myself that this book about Hedy Lamar was NOT a work of fiction! stunningly beautiful as well as brainy, alas few would ever know it.....

[bereanna · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I liked this book because it was an intro into Hedy Lamarr’s fascinating life, but it fell short of satisfying me as a reader. (I didn’t feel a true empathy for Hedy, because she doesn’t seem totally fleshed out). I am not a fan of Benedict’s works although I do love her choice of women to write about.

[joannemonck · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

Do you know Hedy Lamarr the actress? No you don't. What a life she had and her efforts for America during the war and her other self are wonderful

[wagner5sarah35 · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

I'd heard of Hedy Lemarr, a movie star who was also an inventor, but I had not realized she was an Austrian-Jewish immigrant who endured an abusive marriage with an arms dealer. In fact, almost of half of this novel was about her first marriage, and the things she learned about weapons while listening to the conversations between her husband and his government contacts. Building on her own scientific interests, Hedy went on to design weapons systems the US Navy would eventually adopt more than a decade later. This novel was fascinating and makes me want to know more about this woman who was certainly more than a pretty face.

[etxgardener · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

Over the past decade, it’s been a fairly well known fact that Hedy Lamar was much more than a pretty face, but had patented a method for torpedo accuracy during World War II, however, I did not know of her early marriage to a Nazi arms dealer that may have given her acts during the war an air of atonement. I listened to this as an Audible book and the excellent narration gave the book an extra level of drama and suspense

[PlumaGulunga · Rating: 2 out of 5 stars]

Before I begin, let me savor these words and put them in a particular singular in this critique, while I express my opinion and sharpen my claws against the metal of the pencil as if I were a bird of prey. One that, by the way, enjoys the smell of ink's blood, and beyond having a sharp beak needs to seek justice, for I have seen in blogs and other review sites the soft-hearted ones who have been before a book that does not deserve even half of the good reviews it receives, it would serve better as a pillow for some poor little bird that is freezing its brain, as is happening to me at this moment while writing these words with which I reclaim my point of view, before I start to unfold the collective opinion of this nest of pliants. The 368-page book written by Marie Benedict makes my blood boil and brings out the bad feathers, which I hope you will forgive me for at some point, but in reality, this work deserves a one-star rating; despite this, as you can see in the banner, it has been given a two because in this birdcage we are democratic and although the work lacks a solid foundation, it is good to break it down and explain why. (Translated from Spanish)