Does the name Milicent Patrick ring a bell for the horror and monster lovers out there? Not only was she one of the first female animators at Disney, she was also the head designer of the Gill-man monster from The Creature From The Black Lagoon. But for many years Milicent went unaccredited for her work of the creature; due to the jealousy of one coworker, enough damage had been done to distance her name from the film completely.

The Gill-man is one of the most iconic monsters in cinema history, and it is both bizarre and a shame for Milicent not to have received the acknowledgment and regard she deserves.

For Mallory O’Meara, a film producer, screenwriter, and author, her fascination with the Gill-man and the discovery that its design was done by Milicent forever impacted her life. It was to her shock, however, that when she would talk about Milicent with colleagues, film historians, and other horror buffs, no one knew much of her (or hadn’t even heard of her). Knowing that Milicent deserved to have her achievements honored, O’Meara set out to do right by her legacy.

O’Meara’s new book, The Lady from the Black Lagoon: Hollywood Monsters and the Lost Legacy of Milicent Patrick, is not only an incredible journey into the life of the artist but both a personal and universal telling of the patriarchal cruelty that is behind Hollywood. Rather than offer readers a pure textbook understanding of Milicent, O’Meara provides an intimate and personal element throughout the book, drawing the lines between Milicent’s struggles, her own, and the struggles of those outside the patriarchy.

During the time of Milicent’s career it was common for many roles outside of director and producer to go uncredited in a film; when you combine that with the efforts to cover up Milicent’s work on the Gill-man, there used to be very little information one could find on her. That is, until now.

O’Meara dives into research, using the connections available to her while also sorting through a variety of archives, newspaper clippings, and databases. Speaking to film historians, workers at Disney, and even connecting with those who knew Milicent, O’Meara raises the bar on dedication. The fact that The Lady from the Black Lagoon exists is astonishing, and a testament to O’Meara’s research skills. For someone who has spent so much time almost borderline non-existent in history, it is remarkable for O’Meara to have found as much as she has.

From Milicent’s childhood, her passion for art, her time at Disney, and her work on film sets, The Lady from the Black Lagoon covers it all. As a super fan of Milicent, O’Meara offers a fair point of view, accounting for all aspects of her life when it comes to her work and relationships. Regarding Milicent’s designs and drawings, it is fascinating to read about the projects she worked on; readers will come to discover that she has lent her talents to a variety of Disney and classic sci-fi films.

What adds more to the book’s experience is O’Meara’s voice; with an excellent blend of wittiness, cut-throat remarks, and personal reflection, O’Meara presents engaging writing. Her transitions into side comments work just as well as the little footnotes she leaves on specific pages; like any work of nonfiction that requires research, these footnotes can provide valuable context, but also allow for great bouts of humor.

Using her experience and work in the film industry, O’Meara also does a tremendous job explaining the many roles that take place in creating a film. When she is describing what it means to design a creature, her explanation feels welcoming and digestible, allowing those with no film knowledge to comprehend fully.

Most importantly, however, O’Meara draws the parallels between what Milicent had to work through and what she and others have had to endure when facing Hollywood’s sexism and misogyny. Throughout The Lady from the Black Lagoon, O’Meara relates to aspects of Milicent’s career, sharing how she too has had to withstand cruelty and prejudice.

These moments of the book not only flesh out the understanding of how Milicent’s name went absent for so long in cinema history, but also to further express the struggles that women, POC, non-binary, LGBTQ+, and non-able-bodied people go through. Having these parallels show that while we are beginning to face these issues in 2019, the problem is still here more than 60+ years later. In sharing these personal experiences of Milicent’s and her own, O’Meara amplifies the need to hold men of power accountable for their actions, as well as the importance of equality.

The Lady from the Black Lagoon not only sheds light on these critical issues and the work needed to be done but also does justice by a woman whose work has left an inspiring mark on cinema. Like great authors tend to do, O’Meara connects to her subject, offering herself to the page to further enhance the story’s themes.

In her pursuit of learning and sharing the story behind Milicent Patrick, Mallory O’Meara has crafted an engaging narrative full of intriguing and once hidden details. In writing this book, not only has O’Meara done right by cinema history, but she has also given the acknowledgement and respect that Milicent Patrick deserves. When we think of books about film and about the artists that help create them, it is fair to say that The Lady from the Black Lagoon is an essential read.