A Woman of No Importance: The Untold Story of Virginia Hall, WWII’s Most Dangerous Spy

Nonfiction | Biography | Adult | Published in 2019

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Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Prologue-Chapter 4

Chapters 5-8

Chapter 9–Epilogue

Key Figures

Themes

Index of Terms

Important Quotes

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Themes

Serving a Higher Purpose

In her high school yearbook, Virginia proclaimed, “I must have liberty” (8). At the time, there was every indication that she was speaking of personal freedom. Once fascism began to creep across Europe, it became clear that Virginia’s commitment to liberty extended to political freedom, and that she viewed the war as a struggle between good and evil. She vowed to find her way into the war effort by any means necessary, which took her from driving the ambulance to the most dangerous heights of espionage.

Purnell repeatedly contrasts Virginia’s devotion to the war effort with the behavior of other agents; where other agents gave in to loneliness, fear, sexual appetites, recklessness, and alcohol, Virginia was almost austere in her commitment to the cause. More than once, Virginia herself stated that her actions were a result of her love of France and of freedom, but it isn’t entirely clear what grounded these principles. Religion does not appear as a part of Virginia’s life. However, Purnell does leave open the possibility that Virginia’s tenacity and courage flowed from a kind of “faith”—in her fellow agents, in the possibility of a better future, and in the value of human life.

Narratively, Virginia’s vision of her father crystallizes this sense of higher purpose. When she was suffering from an infection after her amputation, she “was galvanized by what she would describe as a vision” (16). Ned told her that it was her “duty to survive” (16). The event catalyzed Virginia’s recovery and served as a touchstone throughout her life; she believed that her father had truly contacted her and “talked often over the years about how he had urged her to fight to live” (16). She would remember him during the arduous climb in the mountain pass. She also used the vision to convince herself to stay in France even as Cowburn warned her that the Nazis were closing in. It is never clear that she connected the vision of her father to any specific version of spirituality, although it does demonstrate that she was open to the possibility of an afterlife. Regardless, Purnell’s account of the vision and its effects illustrates the value of faith in Virginia’s life and work.

Choosing One’s Own Sense of Liberty

From the beginning of her personal and professional lives, Virginia was unable to make the choices she wanted. Her mother wanted Virginia to fit into the mold of the Maryland socialite scene. According to convention, she should marry into money, have children, extend the family legacy, and then raise a new generation to do likewise. Instead, Virginia went to Paris and tried to find a way into the war. Virginia’s attitude towards liberty ran alongside her hatred of oppression and fascism. Virginia viewed anything that hampered freedom—whether in domestic matters or global conflicts—as unjust.

In her high school yearbook, Virginia wrote, “I must have liberty […] withal as large a charter as I please” (8). The key to her remark is not simply that she desired liberty, but that she desired to decide the extent of her own liberty. She wanted to be able to pursue a version of liberty that would satisfy her idiosyncratic and adventurous nature. For example, where others might consider a sense of safety necessary for personal freedom, Virginia often felt the freest when she was in the most danger. Her idea of liberty extended to leading her own mission, succeeding or failing on her own terms, and risking her own life in a way of her choosing.

However, Virginia’s understanding of freedom wasn’t entirely individualistic. In fact, she also found liberty in helping others: “When people asked for help, Virginia found the greatest pleasure in being the one able to provide it” (94). Her willingness to help anyone with any task, from laundry to espionage, often put her at greater risk because it raised her visibility. Nevertheless, the freedom to do so was essential to her.

After experiencing the liberty afforded by her role in World War II, Virginia’s transition back to America was difficult and frustrating. Once again, everyone from bureaucrats to her own mother sought to dictate the trajectory of Virginia’s life. Ironically, she experienced greater liberty in the harrowing theater of World War II than she did in peacetime America.

The Relationship Between Loneliness and Courage

Espionage requires agents to live lives of subterfuge under some of the most stressful conditions imaginable. They maintain multiple identities but can’t communicate anything authentic about their real selves. This can lead to loneliness, paranoia, and in some cases, recklessness.

Virginia disapproved of the agents who drank excessively and who womanized to relieve their solitude. However, the book never disputes the bravery of these agents: “Resistance called for a lonely courage, for men and women who could fight on their own. But the solitude was an eternal strain” (69). Many of the male agents—and Nazi officers—compromised their judgments and loosened their tongues when given the opportunity to drink or consort with prostitutes. Their loneliness ate away at their resolve, but not at their bravery.

Virginia possessed a self-reliance and stubbornness that many of the other agents did not, and all of her actions reflected this reality. She was not immune to loneliness, but she was used to hiding her feelings from people. Ever since her amputation, she required herself to hide the disability. Her letter to Bodington, in which she admitted to feeling vulnerable and gloomy, demonstrates that she was susceptible to the same feelings as the other agents, but she did not act on them or use loneliness as an excuse.

The secrecy and loneliness of an agent’s life is somewhat ironic given that one of their primary tasks is to build networks and connect people. They are able to benefit from the logistical aspects of the networks they build but not from the sense of community that they foster. The work of espionage requires comfort with one’s own self, and an ability to deal with fear that no one else can relieve. Although Virginia was uniquely suited to this role in some ways, it nevertheless came as a relief to her to meet Paul; now she could continue her work while having a like-minded confidante.

The Hypocrisy of Discrimination Against Women in Wartime

Virginia was raised in an era—and in a social setting—where women were expected to fill certain roles. Like many of her contemporaries, Barbara Hall expected her daughter to marry well, increase the family fortune, and become a fixture in the social scene. Virginia defied her mother’s wishes, broke off her engagement, and went to Paris, where she quickly began to dream of diplomatic missions. However, her path to military service was filled with similarly sexist obstacles. Many of the men she encountered, from CIA bureaucrats to Resistance leaders, showed a mixture of bemusement, incredulity, and scorn for Virginia’s aspirations and abilities: “Most of the men, Fayol included, believed war was in any case a man’s affair” (229). In addition, many male agents and Resistance fighters balked at the idea of taking orders from a woman.

The goal of a war is to win, and in the case of World War II, defeating the Axis powers was the only means of victory. The SOE members, and Bodington in particular, eventually saw that Virginia had attributes that could help them further their goals, regardless of her gender or how others might perceive a woman in a leadership role. In fact, Virginia’s gender was an asset in the field where men had previously failed. Because the Germans shared the Allies’ sexist assumptions, they tended to overlook Virginia and other female agents. In addition, Virginia did not share the reckless desire for glory or power that motivated many of her male colleagues, perhaps because female gender norms of the era so strongly emphasized self-effacement. Women like Germaine and Virginia’s “tart friends” also demonstrated that women in wartime have advantages over men. Virginia eventually won the respect of most men she worked with—and those whom she commanded—but whenever she moved on to a new group, she had to start over.

When she began applying at the CIA, having received significant accolades and a plethora of men willing to vouch for her, Virginia nevertheless encountered the same problems: “Six years after the war, Virginia was plagued by the same professional frustrations she had suffered in the 1930s. It was as if she had never proved her worth as a field agent at all” (295). She was more decorated than most agents and had more field experience, but the mere fact that she was a woman impeded her progress.