John Keats was born in London in 1795. He was sent to boarding school, attending John Clarke's in Enfield. Though the school was small, it had a fairly progressive and modern curriculum. It was here that Keats developed an interest in classics, history, and literature. He did an apprenticeship with an apothecary before registering as a medical student at Guy's Hospital. Though he seemed quite capable in the medical field, his true love was writing. It is suspected that Keats contracted tuberculosis sometime around 1817, possibly while taking care of his brother, who also had tuberculosis. During this time, he published several works, which I am a personal fan of. In 1820, he went to Rome. While there, he began coughing up blood. His condition deteriorated quite rapidly, and he was bled (why they thought that might help, I will never understand), as well as placed on a starvation diet. He begged for some opium, but was denied so he suffered in absolute agony. Keats died in Rome on 23 February 1821. His body was buried in the city's Protestant Cemetery. Before burial, an autopsy was done that showed his lungs had nearly disintegrated from the disease. He was 25 years old.

I didn't really know much about the life or death of John Keats before I read this book. The research was good, and I was very interested in what the author had to say the whole time I was reading. It was also a fairly short book, so I finished it quickly. I feel terrible that he suffered so much with no type of pain relief. I really enjoyed his work, and it is such a shame that his life was cut so short and the final months were utterly miserable. If you are a fan of Keats, you should check this book out.