From Kirkus Reviews
In Anne Frank Remembered (1987) and again in a novel about the mad daughter of James Joyce (Clairvoyant, 1992), Gold gave a moving sense of women beset by tragedy. Here, though, the tragic element is subsumed by the notoriety and pettiness of Hitler's bunkermate. A diary purchased at great cost in modern-day Munich by a representative of ``the organization'' (and based in part on a real fragment of Braun's diary from 1935) reveals the whole dreadful tale of relations between ``Herr Wolf'' and ``Frulein Effie.'' The two meet in a Munich photo store in 1929: he an older, rumpled, but clearly important customer, she a pretty girl who parts her legs to give him a better look when she sees him eyeing her on the stockroom ladder. Their subsequent encounters are as intermittent as they are perverse, but by the time he becomes Chancellor, in 1933, Effie has a clear place in his life. Hitler is never seen with her in public, but he buys a villa for her in Munich, she's a regular guest at his fortress in the Alps, and Hindenburg's old Chancellery apartment in Berlin becomes her own. Meanwhile, Effie soothes her bruised ego at his slights and infidelities by shopping endlessly and by obsessive workouts on the uneven parallel bars-- but she also practices her vindictiveness regularly. As war begins, then as the tide of battle turns, she sees less of him than ever, so vermouth and sleeping pills are added to her routine. Her devotion undimmed, she returns from relative safety in Bavaria to join him as bombs rain down on Berlin, gaining in the final days her fervent desire to be not his Frulein but his Frau. To turn such a brutish and banal a life into compelling fiction would require inspiration unimaginable. It's little reflection on the author's writerly skill, then, that her character study--sensitive and vivid though it is--comes up short. --
Copyright ©1997, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.
Review
Eva Braun -- Adolf Hitler's girlfriend -- is probably the last person most readers want to learn about.
This expanded fictional version of Braun's diary, however, is sometimes fascinating in an eerie, back-streets-of-history way. You will never admire little Eva, but you will be appalled and dumbfounded.
The author calls Eva: selfish, tyrannical, racist, narcissistic, cruel, suicidal...abusive." By the end of Devil's Mistress, you can't argue with these descriptions. Maybe Hitler liked Braun because she made him look like a decent guy.
In Devil's Mistress, Hitler himself is a paranoid, obsessive, perverse fuddy-duddy. It is a match made in hell. Eva is a poor 17-year-old when she meets him, and for her, love is indeed blind.
But Hitler is her meal ticket, and against the wishes of friends and family she becomes a sex slave, a woman who never knows whether some silly war business will prevent Adolf from dropping by after a day in the bunker. Finally she and Der Fuhrer are married, and her dream of becoming somebody comes true.
Despite Eva's lack of redeeming social virtue and any human compassion, there is literary intrigue in her being a personification of disgust and contempt. She is both naive and rude, scorned by everyone. Sometimes even Hitler would not put her on the A-list.
"Not included again," she writes May 9, 1939. "This time I'm left out of the 'official' entourage visiting Mussolini."
Diary entries make up most of the book; there are lists of her possessions and who gets them when she goes, a recipe for soup, even a travel tip:
"I had to get away from so much talk about the crisis in Poland have a good time but not the Italians."
In such ways, Gold is clever. Intellectually, you know Eva could never match the insights of another diarist, a young girl in an attic in Amsterdam. Eva had not read the great books or even heard of them.
Was she a paramour with dumb luck? A partner in crime? What are we to make of this woman? Such a psychologically enigmatic Eva makes The Devil's Mistress occasionally a page-turner. -- J. Ford Huffman, Special for USA Today
It's hard to forget a novel that spreads across the imagination like a mysterious and evil stain. Based on Eva Braun's actual diary entries and fleshed out by Alison Leslie Gold's imagination, The Devil's Mistress shadows Braun.... as she schemes to keep herself in lipstick and crocodile shoes, nipping at a bottle of vermouth while waiting for the rumble of a Mercedes staff car outside her door. -- The New York Times Book Review, Sally Eckhoff