If you’re looking to start your summer early, It Ended Badly by Jennifer Wright is about as close as I come to a beach read and I’d recommend it as a fun, light read where a bunch of people get murdered. Subtitled Thirteen of the Worst Breakups in History, Wright narrates the termination of relationships of historical figures and their often surprising or amusing fallouts. She presents history in an accessible and entertaining mode, with her writing style taking on a breezy quality that would welcome even the most history-averse folks.
Wright’s research has uncovered all kinds of amusing anecdotes—sometimes darkly comic—and her writing style makes use of short sentences and casual tone to enhance the comedic effect. For instance, when writing about Nero murdering Poppaea, she writes, “Finally, one night, after Nero had been at the races, Poppaea, who was pregnant at the time, began yelling at him. And so, he jumped up and down on her belly until she was dead. Nero felt bad about this.” The simplicity and directness of that last sentence gives the passage a great comedic punch, despite the grisly death it describes.
Actually, if you want just a taste of the book but don’t want to commit to a full-length text, Wright’s first chapter, covering Nero and Poppaea, is the one most likely to grip you. In describing the historical context for Nero’s relationship and breakup, Wright really paints a picture of Rome that counteracts the romanticism it is generally imbued with. It is a place of grisly deaths, endless plotting, and arbitrary slaughter. She shows how wildly violent ancient Rome was, including how in gladiatorial matches (which often ended in death anyhow), audience members would be pulled into the arena and thrown to the animals. In her words, “Romans loved finding creative and unexpected ways of killing people.”
Wright relies on historical accounts to help build her narratives. For instance, she draws from Tacitus’ accounts of Claudius’ death. Some of the details are speculative. When Wright talks about Aggrippina poisoning Claudius, she explains: “Claudius attempted to use a feather to induce vomiting. Remember: Claudius was a smart man and doubtless thought if he had been truly poisoned, he could tickle his throat and vomit up the poison. Great planning, right? Really clever. Agrippina poisoned the feather. At least, that’s my favourite version of this story about how Claudius died. There’s some dispute.” When in doubt, Wright makes sure to offer the most amusing and sensational versions of the tale.
Nero is by far the weirdest of the figures she examines. After murdering Poppaea, for instance, Nero “ordered that rather than being consumed by fire, her body should be stuffed with fragrances and embalmed. [...] Later, when performing in classical dramas, Nero would wear a mask depicting his dead wife for all female roles. He also grieved the end of their relationship by murdering her son.” See what I mean about these short sentences juxtaposed at the end? The comic bent is always present. Wright also describes how Nero would dress as an animal, be confined to a cage, be released, and then attack the genitals of prisoners. One unfortunate boy seemed to have a resemblance to Poppaea and Nero made a eunuch of him, married him, and then after Nero’s death he was passed around among other wealthy weirdos. Poor guy.
Speaking of wealthy weirdos, Wright traces the lineage of a number of figures throughout history, like the third marquess of Queensbury who was discovered eating a servant that he’d been roasting on a spit. He was a ten year old cannibal. Meanwhile an 11th century Venetian princess was put to death for eating with a fork because “there was a lot of talk around that time whether or not forks were tools of Satan.”
Alas, you likely want to know who is discussed in this book of historical oddities and breakups. Taking a chronological approach, Wright addresses Nero and Poppaea, Eleanor of Aquitaine and Henry II, Lucrezia Borgia and Giovanni Sforza, Henry VIII and Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard, Anna Ivanovna, Timothy Dexter, Caroline Lamb and Lord Byron, John Ruskin and Effie Gray, Oscar Wilde and Lord Alfred Douglas, Edith Wharton and Morton Fullerton, Oskar Kokoschkla and Alma Mahler, Norman Mailer and Adele Morales Mailer, and finally Debbie Reynolds and Eddie Fisher and Elizabeth Taylor.
As with a lot of nonfiction, I found myself most drawn to the subjects with whom I was already familiar. That said, each chapter had some interesting historical note or offered some deeper insight into the time. For example, Wright really challenges my perception of Henry VIII. Apparently he was very talented and very attractive? Who knew! It was also compelling to hear about the last words his executed wives had to say, particularly because there was such a difference between them. I had no idea that Lord Byron was so intensely cruel, either.
Other literary figures took on a prominent place in my imagination for this book. Edith Wharton is painted with particular compassion. Wright documents Wharton’s inexperience of life, offering some slight literary commentary, as well. The story shows Wharton as being naive and unable to find information about married life. She comes across as incredibly sheltered, with an even malicious tone from her mother when she asked about bedroom matters. With her mother telling her she was being inappropriate, Wharton gets married having little idea of the facts of life. It’s kind of a tragic tale, especially because her husband was kind of a boring dope devoted to her while the rakish Morton Fullerton seduced her and opened her eyes to a world of passion she was never able to quite recover after their breakup.
Wright preserves particular malice for Norman Mailer. In the introduction to the book and in several other chapters, Wright references Mailer as being just the worst. Admittedly, his story is pretty wild. The fact that he is still at least somewhat revered as a novelist is pretty unbelievable, given that he stabbed his wife twice at a party and told everyone not to touch her and “let the bitch die.” Granted, he doesn’t even come close to Nero’s level of weirdness or cruelty, but given that this happened so recently in history gives the whole thing a much more sordid quality. I already had a bad taste in my mouth after reading his 1300 page novel Harlot’s Ghost, which has no ending and has sequels that were never written, but this truly clinches it.
Beyond those people with whom I was already familiar, there were some new figures who warranted a place in the history books for their oddities. Timothy Dexter stands out as a peculiarly eccentric fellow. He seemed to have an incredibly lucky track record with starting businesses that were by all accounts doomed to fail. He then faked his death and his wife wasn’t sad enough, so he just…pretended she was a ghost. He would refer to her as a ghost, talk about her death, and act as if she didn’t exist while in conversation with others. And others seemed to kind of go along with it? It’s a very peculiar homelife. He also fancied himself a philosopher and published a number of volumes with no punctuation (postmodern before his time, maybe?). He referred to himself as the greatest philosopher in the Western world and when someone suggested he could “probably use at least some punctuation,” Dexter made an alteration to the book’s second edition. He “added a page of punctuation at the end so readers could insert marks wherever they liked, or, as he claimed, ‘I put in enough here and they may be pepper and salt it as they please.’” What a strange fellow.
All things considered, It Ended Badly is an informative history book—it’s not the hard facts and dates you might expect of a historian, but it’s an entertaining and engaging way to delve into the past. The humorous tone of the book is inviting, if maybe a little over reliant on eating icecream breakup stereotypes. It’s a nice light read if you want to take a bit of a break from all the heaviness of the world. Sure, things are heavy in this book too, but with time and distance even forcing people to sleep in an ice palace to punish them comes across as more funny than malicious.
Hope your reading—and your relationships—are happy as ever!
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