I got the book “Lulu in Hollywood” after listening to the History Chicks podcast on Louise Brooks, an iconic movie star from the 1920s and early 1930s. Their descriptions of Louise fascinated me—her life was full of incredible highs and lows, and she observed Hollywood with a sharp eye and unusual honesty. So when at the end of the show they mentioned that Louise Brooks had written a book called “Lulu in Hollywood,” I decided to go ahead and get it. It’s apparently well-known among people who are interested inn Hollywood history or films, because Louise had such an intimate knowledge of the place, and because she herself was such an interesting character.

The book isn’t a traditional autobiography by any means. In fact, it includes an essay Louise wrote called “Why I Will Never Write My Memoirs.” It’s more of a collection of Louise’s writings about films and the people who made them, from Greta Garbo and Lillian Gish to W.C. Fields and the German director G. W. Pabst. Yet, Brook’s prose brings to life the people she knew and the places she visited, from their deepest, darkest flaws to their greatest triumphs. Her reverence for the great artists of her time makes the book sing with vivid memories of luminaries such as Charlie Chaplin, with whom she had a lovely three month long affair, to Martha Graham, whom she danced with in the Denishawn Dance Company. But Brooks also has a keen and unforgiving eye for weakness, and her depictions of Humphrey Bogart, William Randolph Hearst, and Marion Davies will feel honest, clear, and cold. The heart-breaking tale of Pepi Lederer, Marion Davies’ brilliant but constantly overshadowed niece is one example of Hollywood’s cruelty to those it considers “failures.” Brooks watches the destruction of many starlets and stars close up, including herself.

It’s interesting to read this book with all the modern revelations about Harvey Weinstein and other Hollywood sex abusers. Louise vividly details the sexual humiliations that she was exposed to as a star, and it’s absolutely harrowing to consider how lesser women were likely treated. She describes a frightening scene of Humphrey Bogart terrorizing her when his wife Mayo Methot couldn’t find her shoe. At other times, she describes the cruel jests and casual sexism she was subjected to by the crews she worked with, or the ugly double standards for men and women she witnessed. It’s easy to see why she fled Hollywood rather than try to stay there as an aging star.

I’d recommend this book to anyone interested in early silent movies, the 1920s, or old Hollywood. Yet, I don’t think it needs to be limited to that. Louise Brook’s sharp eye and honesty gives the book something enduring about human nature. Perhaps it has lessons about how no stars can endure living o the pedestals their fans create for them. Brook’s depictions of the intense personalities and the harrowing personal tragedies of the people who lived in the wake of Hollywood is well worth reading for anyone.