The Red Dancer: The Life and Times of Mata Hari by Richard Skinner

Now I have to face head on the perils of reading binges...the lukewarm novel.
I have known the name Mata Hari and had vague ideas about her life since middle school. In middle school, I was entranced with Rocky and Bullwinkle, and acquired, through thoughtful presents, videotapes of old episodes. Fractured Fairy Tales, Ask Mr. Know-It-All, Dudley Do-Right, and all the best of cartoon sketch comedy. One of these fabulous treats had a semi-educational, googly-eyed look at history: Peabody's History.

There was a particular episode of Peabody's History (pictured above, Mr. Peabody on the left for those among the uninitiated) which featured a cockamamie history of Mata Hari, in which she gave secret plans to the German army. Eventually, though, her careful plotting against the bumbling British was waylaid by Mr. Peabody and Sherman, who stopped the German army by skewering a hot dog on the end of each soldier's bayonet... causing the foolish followers of the Kaiser to believe they were at a wienie roast.
Ever since soaking in this phantasmical feature, I've been curious about Mata Hari. It's a name that you hear, synonymous with femme fatale, but I have never actually known anything about her. The only other information I had on the infamous spy was a pot-crazed write-in of the character in a David Niven/Woody Allen/Peter Sellers movie called Casino Royale. It's the strangest of all the sixties pop-adelic movies that I've seen, but, with music by Burt Bacharach, is one of the best soundtracks for homework. More of my calculus problems were solved with the serenade of a flugelhorn than by any other tunes.
All rambling aside, these were the only views I had of Mata Hari -- hardly historical, and barely breathing on the truth. So when I saw this spine stretching out towards me at the library, my brain tingled with anticipation. Finally! I would know the actual history of this character! At last my chance had come!


But this novel turned out to be only slightly more informative than Rocky and Bullwinkle. It begins with her deliberate marriage into the Belgian Army, followed by family tragedy that ends in divorce. Then we see her become the dancer that she's known as, and follow her through those upcomings. At this point, I was hoping to know more about how she became a spy and what exactly she did for the Germans. The set up of the novel prohibited this knowledge from creeping off the page and into my head. Every chapter is told by a new person who knew Mata Hari at that point in her life. This makes the actual plot line of the novel drift and ebb with no consideration for presenting the facts clearly. I learned a few interesting things, not the least of which was Mata Hari's skiing accident. She was stranded in the mountains with her ski instructor overnight, and had to construct a hole in the snow so they could keep warm, and was actually saved by a man who used dowsing rods. But while reading this novel, I spent most of my energy just trying to understand how this new person connected to Mata Hari, and comprehend their importance in her life.
Of course, the main facts were presented, and I did learn a little more through them. But I disapproved of the constantly varying first-person narrative. It veiled the pressing information just like one of Mata Hari's scarves. It's nice to know another reader felt similarily, but I still feel that this book just needed some constructive criticism pre-publishing.
There was one cozy delightful moment of a love story between Mata Hari's maid and gardener. It was so sighingly sweet that I can't help but reproduce it for you here.


He said he had another surprise for me. He took my hand and led me upstairs. In my room, he tied several pieces of blue ribbon to the window catch and opened the window. They fluttered in the breeze. He said we had to wait until just before daylight faded. We lay on my bed together and he kissed my neck. He whispered flatteries in my ear and said, "Sex without love can be an empty experience, but love without sex is a waste of time." He loved talking in riddles. Just then, I noticed a butterfly by my window. Its wings were the palest blue and had black edges. Soon, there were six or seven butterflies, all flapping around the ribbons. He smiled and said the ribbons attracted the butterflies to mate. That night Hippolyte stayed with me. It was the sweetest night of my life.

Judging from this lovingly, sparse romance, Mr. Skinner might actually have a prolific career lined up with these publishers. Just like Ms. Hari, let's hope he leaves the espionage to other authors and seeks a better mate for his strengths in romance.