The Seventh Veil of Salome by Silvia Moreno-Garcia

 

This is just over 300 pages of a couple-three naifs (depending on how you count, one of which is at best skittering on the edges of plausibility) mostly failing to have things go well with/for them. Apparently Studio-era Hollywood was a pretty crap place. Also the Roman Empire. Who knew? One of the bad endings was clear and inevitable to anyone coming into the book knowing who Salome was; the other was at least obvious as like the shape under the blankets within the first 100 pages. There's still some tension in watching things unravel, but it's not a very pleasant read, in spite of the occasional charming turn of phrase.