Eischeid, a performer and teacher who specializes in the music of the Holocaust, has researched the life of Maria Mandl (1912-1948) for more than 20 years. Some of Mandl’s surviving contemporaries have been willing to talk, and Mandl herself added to the massive documentation on the Nazi years. She was born to a close-knit, middle-class Austrian family who passed smoothly through the 1920s but suffered during the Depression the following decade—although her father, a shoemaker, kept working. When the Germans marched into Austria in 1938, they were greeted with enthusiasm, although Maria’s father did not join in. That same year, Maria moved to Munich, joined the concentration camp bureaucracy, and rose to perhaps its leading post for a woman: director of the women’s camp at Auschwitz, where she oversaw the murder of perhaps 500,000 deportees and both witnessed and personally participated in unspeakable brutality. Eischeid relies heavily on testimony from survivors, who mostly deliver horrifying descriptions of camp life and sadistic treatment from guards. Even as the top official, Mandl continued to enjoy personally abusing prisoners. Due to the steady stream of suffering, torture, and death, some readers may feel the urge to skim. Nearly half the book recounts Mandl’s postwar capture, trial, and execution. The last two events took place in communist Poland, so there was no doubt about the outcome, but it was a sober, well-managed affair, although the media (American included) sensationalized her as “a beast in a gorgeous woman’s body.” Eischeid agonizes over but never explains how an apparently normal person could turn into a monster. One survivor offers a frighteningly reasonable explanation: “She was a nobody. Suddenly she was a somebody. That explains it.”
