Peekaboo: The Story of Veronica Lake, Revised and Expanded Edition

About This Audiobook

This isn’t just another golden-age Hollywood biography. *Peekaboo* digs into the paradox of Veronica Lake—a star whose iconic peekaboo bangs and smoldering gaze made her a wartime pin-up queen, yet whose life behind the cameras was a whirlwind of self-sabotage, studio manipulation, and fleeting reinventions. Jeff Lenburg’s revised edition doesn’t just chronicle her rise and fall; it dissects the *why*—how a woman who outshone Rita Hayworth in screen tests could end up broke, blacklisted, and working as a bartender in Miami by 40.

Virginia Ferguson’s narration is the secret weapon here: her voice carries the husky, world-weary cadence of a classic film noir heroine, perfectly mirroring Lake’s own vocal style without slipping into imitation. The audiobook’s pacing lingers on Lake’s early triumphs (*Sullivan’s Travels*, *The Blue Dahlia*) like a slow zoom-in, then accelerates through her post-Hollywood descent with the urgency of a newsreel. What makes this stand out? Lenburg’s access to rare interviews and studio memos, which Ferguson delivers with the weight of a confession—less like reading history, more like eavesdropping on a late-night tell-all."

"review": "I’ll admit, I approached this expecting a glossy, nostalgic tribute—but *Peekaboo* is far grittier and more compelling. Ferguson’s performance is a masterclass in tonal balance: she channels Lake’s breathy, seductive delivery during the star’s heyday scenes, then shifts to a clipped, almost exhausted rhythm as the alcoholism and failed comebacks pile up. The effect is unsettling in the best way, like watching a Technicolor print fade to sepia in real time.

The book’s structure is its strongest asset. Lenburg resists the urge to romanticize Lake’s chaos, instead framing her as a woman caught between her own rebellious streak and Hollywood’s misogynistic machinery. The sections on her feud with Paramount boss Buddy DeSylva are *electric*—Ferguson’s reading of his memos drips with condescension, while Lake’s retorts crackle with defiance. My two critiques: the final hour drags slightly with repetitive accounts of Lake’s later obscurity, and I wished for more analysis of how her ‘peekaboo’ persona influenced later femme fatales (think Jessica Rabbit or *L.A. Noire*’s characters). Still, this is the rare celebrity bio that feels *essential*—not just for classic film buffs, but for anyone fascinated by how fame chews up the very people it creates. The audio production is flawless, with archival clips seamlessly woven in, though purists might bemoan the lack of Lake’s own voice in the mix. A haunting, beautifully rendered portrait of a woman who was never just a hairdo."

"tags": [
"old hollywood scandals