Maybe Evelyn Nesbit should have seen the signs of her husband's mental state before he gunned down her former lover in 1906. Or maybe she knew exactly what he was going to do and chose not to intervene. Either way, as detailed in Allison Pataki's new novel It Girl (Ballantine Books; 416 pages), the details of the sordid murder were only a piece of the dramatic story for those involved. The novel follows the story of a fictional version of Gilded Age supermodel Nesbit and explores how such a surprising and brazen crime could have occurred.
It Girl traces Evelyn Talbot's rise and her ties to several wealthy society men at the turn of the 20th century. Thirteen-year-old Evelyn is spotted by an artist while working at a department store, after lying about her age. She poses for paintings to help support her destitute mother and brother while living in a Philadelphia boarding house, then later moves to New York and finds huge success as a model before becoming a Broadway star. Evelyn becomes romantically involved with Stanley Pierce, an architect and financial baron who funds her lavish lifestyle. After encountering problems in her relationship with the revolting Pierce, she weds the resentful, unstable Hal Thorne, and learns how lonely a star's life can be. The protagonist and her story draw on Nesbit, considered the world's first supermodel, her relationship with Stanford White, and her marriage to Harry Kendall Thaw. Thaw's murder of White sparked the 20th Century's first 'Trial of the Century,' a disclosure that doesn't spoil the novel, as the prologue already lays out the shocking event and those involved.

Including those details in the prologue strips away much of the novel's narrative tension, leaving it without a strong central question. Instead of asking what happened, we're left wondering why, but that mystery feels light on conflict because it coincides with Evelyn's career, which moves in a mostly straight upward trajectory until she marries Hal (with only a few brief exceptions). There are moments of right and wrong in her decisions, and the early days of her relationship with Pierce generate brief instances of fear, but her story largely recounts one success after another, with men such as Pierce providing her with financial support. The lack of struggles outside of her success, of micro-tensions, creates a surface-level read without much substance.
Absent a larger, more engaging storyline, the complicated and problematic relationship between Evelyn and her mother is the novel's most engaging element. Early on, Evelyn's mother is apprehensive about her daughter's pursuit of better modeling jobs, though she's happy to reap the financial reward. As Evelyn's career advances, her mother begins to act as her manager and grows more willing to overlook her daughter's safety and needs. This dynamic recalls the ugly realities recently presented in Jennette McCurdy's I'm Glad My Mom Died, in which the former child star details how her narcissistic mother aggressively pushed her into acting at a young age. By the time Evelyn is wooed by Pierce at sixteen, her mother's desire for financial gain has overtaken her concern for Evelyn's well-being. This dynamic is most troubling when the novel reaches a scene in which she consents to letting her fifteen-year-old daughter pose nude for a painter. As Evelyn notes, “Mamma has always made it plain that she wouldn't stand for anything improper. But Mamma's behavior is confusing now. It's almost as if she's not offended. Perhaps she's not even opposed.”
Evelyn's romantic relationships unfold with the naivety we'd expect from a sixteen-year-old girl living in 1900. We get nothing outside of her own narration, so the novel limits us to what she knows. But with 125 years of hindsight, we can see what she cannot. Her relationship with Pierce moves slowly as he showers her with gifts and closes the emotional distance between them, pressuring her into choices she later regrets. It feels like watching a horror movie and yelling at characters to run the other way. It's not dramatic irony, because the book isn't offering direct evidence outside of Evelyn's knowledge, but reading it now within the context of our present times, we understand Pierce's problematic grooming of a teenage girl. The best example comes early in their relationship, when Pierce confirms her real age after she's tried passing as an adult: "Yes. Sixteen. Yes, that's more like it. Well, we'll keep that between us, won't we? And now that you've got me on your side, no one's going to give you any trouble."
As is often the case with historical fiction, a quick online search can reveal the real story of the characters on the page, but the author has no obligation to stick exactly to the script. Fiction implies artistic liberties that can add drama, flair, or sordid details to a story. (Hilary Mantel's dramatization of Thomas Cromwell in Wolf Hall certainly comes to mind.) It can also rewrite a character's ending, and Pataki makes a bold choice to do exactly that. Though the prologue offers details and speculation about the lives of the characters we meet, the novel gives Evelyn a different ending from her real-life inspiration, a choice Pataki explains in a detailed note at the end of the novel. It's not that the ending is unearned; the story builds the foundation for Evelyn's actions to be believable and sympathetic. But the ending is still unexpected, to the point that the choice is sure to be met by some with a groan rather than a cheer.
Pataki's prose is straightforward and accessible, with a focus on clear storytelling rather than elaborate descriptions, and it carries truth through the language and slang. The tone leans toward detached observation, as events unfold from Evelyn's first-person limited point of view, but her age and lack of knowledge keep us from venturing too deeply into her psyche. And while the pace builds at a reasonable speed, particularly with the way Pierce grooms Evelyn in an escalating manner, there's an odd aside that interrupts in the novel's flow in which Evelyn meets and briefly falls for a suitor in between Pierce and Thorne (perhaps inserted to mimic Nesbit's relationship with actor John Barrymore in between dating the man who corrupted her and the man who murdered him). It feels like an unneeded departure that muddies the overall storyline without much tension.
I don't believe authors should be criticized for taking big swings rather than playing it safe. Safe creates forgettable fiction. It's clear that Pataki cares about her character and wanted to give her an ending befitting a star. Whether that ending is believable or not is a matter of taste, but It Girl makes an effort to portray Evelyn's story more as Evelyn's than as how her real-life counterpart is remembered. Pick up the book if you want to cheer for Evelyn, but perhaps show caution if you want a tightly woven mystery as to why she ended up the subject of the first Trial of the Century.
You can purchase It Girl from bookshop.org, and other retailers.
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This post was written by a human being without the aid of artificial “intelligence.” AI has no place in literary criticism, or in the creation of art and writing.
