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Very, Very, Very Dreadful: The Influenza Pandemic of 1918
From National Book Award finalist Albert Marrin comes a fascinating look at the history and science of the deadly 1918 flu pandemic--and its chilling and timely resemblance to the worldwide coronavirus outbreak.In spring of 1918, World War I was underway, and troops at Fort Riley, Kansas, found themselves felled by influenza. By the summer of 1918, the second wave struck as a highly contagious and lethal epidemic and within weeks exploded into a pandemic, an illness that travels rapidly from one continent to another. It would impact the course of the war, and kill many millions more soldiers than warfare itself.Of all diseases, the 1918 flu was by far the worst that has ever afflicted humankind; not even the Black Death of the Middle Ages comes close in terms of the number of lives it took. No war, no natural disaster, no famine has claimed so many. In the space of eighteen months in 1918-1919, about 500 million people--one-third of the global population at the time--came down with influenza. The exact total of lives lost will never be known, but the best estimate is between 50 and 100 million. In this powerful book, filled with black and white photographs, nonfiction master Albert Marrin examines the history, science, and impact of this great scourge--and the possibility for another worldwide pandemic today.A Chicago Public Library Best Book of the Year!
197 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 9, 2018
290 people are currently reading
2032 people want to read
About the author
Albert Marrin
58 books82 followersAlbert Marrin is a historian and the author of more than twenty nonfiction books for young people. He has won various awards for his writing, including the 2005 James Madison Book Award and the 2008 National Endowment for Humanities Medal. In 2011, his book Flesh and Blood So Cheap was a National Book Award Finalist. Marrin is the Chairman of the History Department at New York's Yeshiva University.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 389 reviews
August 25, 2018
Generally fine, but not everything I wanted it to be. I wanted more history and less... science? More about the impact upon culture and war and the people of the time. Less about what scientists do with viruses in labs now, and less about other diseases. Less random trivia.
Side Rant:
The author clearly has a bias against religion. He often condemns Christianity as being anti-science (which, granted, some have been in the past). But when discussing Islam, he makes a clear distinction between “the majority of Muslims” and extremists. This indicates he’s willing to accept a differentiation between Islamic beliefs but unable to accept differences in Christian beliefs. Why is he talking about religions in this book anyway?
Side Rant:
The author clearly has a bias against religion. He often condemns Christianity as being anti-science (which, granted, some have been in the past). But when discussing Islam, he makes a clear distinction between “the majority of Muslims” and extremists. This indicates he’s willing to accept a differentiation between Islamic beliefs but unable to accept differences in Christian beliefs. Why is he talking about religions in this book anyway?
March 19, 2020
Apart from the usual problem of books about pandemics (authors focus on just one aspect, geographically, making it anything but pandemic — the US in this case), this is a very good intro into the subject, with lots of useful and vivid pictures. Since it's quite modern, it's very up-to-date; some of the warnings are chilling these days of covid-19.
February 17, 2022
Pandemics that threaten to exterminate mankind are a popular plot device for dystopian fiction, but how many of us know that such an extermination almost happened in the year 1918? While millions of soldiers were being blown to pieces in World War I, a new mutation of the influenza virus began an unprecedented global death march. Who could have foreseen that an H1N1 virus brewed in the bowels of birds would soon mow down victims of every age group, including young adults in the prime of life? No contagion could compete with this "devil virus" for the title of worst killer in history; by comparison, AIDS claimed fewer lives from 1975 to 2014 than the H1N1 pandemic did just from August to November of 1918. What led to this black swan event that transformed societies worldwide? Does history suggest that such a population bottleneck—some estimates put the death count at one hundred million—was inevitable? In Very, Very, Very Dreadful: The Influenza Pandemic of 1918, Albert Marrin guides our tour of the history of mankind's battle with infectious disease, and gives us a sense of the horror surrounding the 1918 catastrophe. You won't want to miss this.
For thousands of years humans lived in small family clusters led by "hunter-gatherers" who provided meat, fruits, and vegetables. They rarely interacted with other families, so risk of contagious disease remained low; a particularly nasty bug might wipe out a family, but then it died with no one else to infect. The Agricultural Revolution saw families use the land more efficiently to grow the food they needed and more, allowing time for leisure and abstract learning. Numerous families could gather into communities and sell their agricultural goods on the free market; these communities grew into villages, towns, and cities. People spent more time with friends and neighbors, and this made it easier for viruses to flourish. Plagues came and went across ancient Europe, Africa, and Asia, and by 430 B.C. we get the first report of an urban epidemic, which destroyed the Greek city-state of Athens. Athens had seemed destined to be a cultural and academic hub forever, but poor public sanitation led to a contagion that killed one-third of its citizens. The Plague of Athens ushered in the era of widespread contagious disease.
In Ancient Rome, the Plague of Justinian in the 540s A.D. was far worse than what afflicted Athens. During Constantinople's reign came the first recorded incident of bubonic plague, which ravaged Europe on and off for more than a thousand years before medicine found a way to restrain it. The disease was transmitted via rats and fleas, which overran large cities. These urban centers were full of rotting garbage, human excrement, and dead animals; society had advanced since the ancient world, but we still had no reliable way to keep cities clean. Bubonic plague preyed on commoners and royalty alike, causing excruciating, drawn-out death. Pestilence was a grim fact of everyday life.
When did Europe turn the corner on these outbreaks that regularly decimated its population for millennia? Beginning in the 1600s, men of science such as Galileo Galilei and Sir Isaac Newton rejected the superstition of the past, determining that natural phenomena could always be logically explained. Renewed study showed that many ancient ideas about medicine were wrong: Robert Hooke, Antony van Leeuwenhoek, Louis Pasteur, Robert Koch, and others applied themselves to discovering biological causes of disease. Joseph Lister revolutionized healthcare, insisting on sterile conditions when he performed surgery in order to minimize entry of hostile microbes into the body. The late 1700s saw Edward Jenner's invention of the vaccine, the first broadly effective method to fight communicable disease. Vaccines intentionally infected patients with lesser versions of dreaded illnesses, activating their immune systems so the lethal versions would do them no harm. Medicine had made astonishing progress in a very short time, dramatically reducing death from bacteria and viruses, but mankind's confidence was about to be badly shaken as the twentieth century arrived. The great-grandaddy of all pandemics was poised to strike.
World War I was a hellish mashup of modern artillery and antiquated combat strategy. Automatic guns tore human bodies apart at a terrifying rate, spraying the blood of young soldiers all along the Western Front, the main region in Europe where Allied forces (France, Belgium, and Britain, among others) fought the Central Powers (Germany, Austria-Hungary, Bulgaria, and the Ottoman Empire). Military units hunkered down in squalid trenches for months at a time, maintaining a stalemate that showed no sign of ending. These trenches, spread over hundreds of miles and packed with soldiers, were ideal breeding grounds for the 1918 pandemic. Exhausted, shellshocked, unclean, and exposed to the elements, fighting men easily succumbed to the influenza's first wave. The virus genetically shifted from a minor annoyance to a deadly beast that sometimes killed within hours after the first symptoms appeared. Germany became desperate as the United States reluctantly entered World War I at President Woodrow Wilson's command; General Erich Ludendorff knew the time was now to press for the advantage, or Germany would lose the war. This is when the devil virus hit with full force, piling up corpses on both sides of the Western Front. Governments downplayed the threat to avoid alarming the citizenry, but the secret wouldn't keep for long. The 1918 H1N1 pandemic was already the worst medical crisis in history.
Albert Marrin spares his young readers few of the emergency's ghastly details. Dead bodies lay rotting everywhere beneath the hot sun on the Western Front. In centuries past, disease spread slowly, but in the Industrial Age people could travel across a continent in a matter of days on a train or automobile, and asymptomatic carriers brought the devil virus with them. As it mutated, entering its calamitous second wave, medical professionals realized we were headed for disaster. The virus ripped through France, already weakened by years of war; it hit Boston, Massachusetts like a tsunami, snuffing out lives by the thousand as bewildered civilians drowned in their own blood-soaked lungs. Very, Very, Very Dreadful explains in detail how the virus used a victim's own immune system as a weapon to murder them. Even seasoned virologists, used to the gruesome aspects of the profession, were stunned by the sight of dead patients' lungs during an autopsy, swollen with their own blood they had drowned in. This H1N1 flu was a torturous way to die.
As we travel the globe to pursue every angle of the narrative, Albert Marrin relays a steady stream of stories that reflect the suffering on an acutely personal level, as well as hard data emphasizing the potency of the devil virus. Mixed in are dozens of anecdotes about the trauma and tragedy of World War I, revealing the sheer brutality of the conflict. The war was the perfect Petri dish for an influenza pandemic. All our progress in medicine meant little now; we were still ignorant about viruses, leaving tired doctors and nurses with nothing to do but try to keep patients comfortable as they vomited blood and wasted away in puddles of their own pestilence. The second wave of the devil virus killed huge portions of the population in North America, South America, Europe, Africa, and Asia, leaving no nation free of the scythe's blade. Very, Very, Very Dreadful vividly brings the panic alive for us just as the world must have felt it, with death rates rising and no end in sight. Could mankind survive a silent killer that slew tens of millions with ease and threatened much worse? Victor Vaughan, an infectious disease expert, summed up the very real worry of the medical community: "If the epidemic continues its mathematical rate of acceleration, civilization could easily disappear...from the face of the earth within a matter of a few more weeks."
Human nature looks to cast blame for events like the 1918 pandemic. Prominent figures and average citizens pointed fingers at the German war machine or at supposedly inferior ethnic cultures. Some insisted the devil virus was God's judgment on human decadence. Politicians championed "cures" that were really nothing but placebos, and social distancing measures were strictly enforced in the United States, often at gunpoint; in one instance, a blacksmith who refused to don a facemask was shot by a policeman. And still the pandemic worsened; the week of October 23, 1918, 21,000 Americans died. Again Albert Marrin underscores the real human cost of the crisis with dozens of stories told by individuals who survived, stories that range from chilling to deeply emotional. There are heroes and villains, lucky people and unlucky, forbidden from obeying their instinct to come together in a time of crisis because proximity was what the virus thrived on. Would the human psyche ever recover from the pandemic?
What finally halted the devil virus? The end of World War I was a significant factor. With soldiers no longer sardined in trenches, the novel H1N1 strain couldn't spread as easily. A third wave caused a temporary spike in cases, but by 1920 the pandemic was over. The world had entered the twentieth century optimistic that the horrors of past generations had been dealt with, that humanity was on course for unending progress, but World War I and the influenza pandemic shredded those notions. Would utopia ever become reality in a world where a virus could murder a hundred million people over a span of several months?
In the final chapter, Very, Very, Very Dreadful shifts to an exploration of virology, every bit as interesting as the historical narrative that precedes it. In light of the 1918 pandemic, medical professionals saw how little they understood viruses, and set to work increasing their knowledge. How is influenza actually transmitted? Can its genome be sequenced with the goal of engineering a vaccine? The problem, researchers discovered, is the rapid influenza mutation rate: a serviceable vaccine one year may be useless the next. Virologists must constantly be at work anticipating the genetic composition of next year's flu. Failure to develop a mostly effective vaccine each flu season would lead to a massive global rise in deaths. The high-stakes game of cat and mouse continued for decades as researchers learned more about viruses, but much remained a mystery even as this book first entered publication in 2018. Could a vaccine be created to counteract all flu mutations? What would another pandemic look like a hundred years after the devil virus ransacked civilization? Some of these questions were answered in the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020, which made Very, Very, Very Dreadful an uncannily timely book, but the war between man and disease continued. Contagions have caused inestimable suffering, but the history of medicine proves there is reason to hope.
Very, Very, Very Dreadful is superior juvenile nonfiction by an author willing to make the deep research dive required for such an ambitious book. Albert Marrin's writing is nuanced, contemplative, atmospheric, fast-paced, emotionally charged, and deals in timeless social, political, and informational themes. He makes clear his reason for writing this extensive treatise on mankind's endless struggle with disease. "An old proverb says: 'Knowledge is power.' It is, and that is why I have written this book. We need to look backward so we can look forward. We must understand what happened a century ago so we can better face facts and better defend ourselves when the next pandemic strikes, as scientists believe it surely will." Loaded with fascinating facts and stories, Very, Very, Very Dreadful is one of the more stimulating nonfiction books I've read; a big part of me wants to rate it three and a half stars. All that stops me from doing so is the author's occasional tendency to merge his opinion with the facts; his condemnation of evangelist Billy Sunday, for example, or Marrin's assumption that U.S. lockdown orders for the populace should have been handed down at the federal level. Also, certain information in the book's concluding chapter wasn't designed to age as well as the rest of the manuscript. Regardless, Very, Very, Very Dreadful deserves more positive attention than it received. Albert Marrin's talent for narrative nonfiction is sensational.
For thousands of years humans lived in small family clusters led by "hunter-gatherers" who provided meat, fruits, and vegetables. They rarely interacted with other families, so risk of contagious disease remained low; a particularly nasty bug might wipe out a family, but then it died with no one else to infect. The Agricultural Revolution saw families use the land more efficiently to grow the food they needed and more, allowing time for leisure and abstract learning. Numerous families could gather into communities and sell their agricultural goods on the free market; these communities grew into villages, towns, and cities. People spent more time with friends and neighbors, and this made it easier for viruses to flourish. Plagues came and went across ancient Europe, Africa, and Asia, and by 430 B.C. we get the first report of an urban epidemic, which destroyed the Greek city-state of Athens. Athens had seemed destined to be a cultural and academic hub forever, but poor public sanitation led to a contagion that killed one-third of its citizens. The Plague of Athens ushered in the era of widespread contagious disease.
In Ancient Rome, the Plague of Justinian in the 540s A.D. was far worse than what afflicted Athens. During Constantinople's reign came the first recorded incident of bubonic plague, which ravaged Europe on and off for more than a thousand years before medicine found a way to restrain it. The disease was transmitted via rats and fleas, which overran large cities. These urban centers were full of rotting garbage, human excrement, and dead animals; society had advanced since the ancient world, but we still had no reliable way to keep cities clean. Bubonic plague preyed on commoners and royalty alike, causing excruciating, drawn-out death. Pestilence was a grim fact of everyday life.
When did Europe turn the corner on these outbreaks that regularly decimated its population for millennia? Beginning in the 1600s, men of science such as Galileo Galilei and Sir Isaac Newton rejected the superstition of the past, determining that natural phenomena could always be logically explained. Renewed study showed that many ancient ideas about medicine were wrong: Robert Hooke, Antony van Leeuwenhoek, Louis Pasteur, Robert Koch, and others applied themselves to discovering biological causes of disease. Joseph Lister revolutionized healthcare, insisting on sterile conditions when he performed surgery in order to minimize entry of hostile microbes into the body. The late 1700s saw Edward Jenner's invention of the vaccine, the first broadly effective method to fight communicable disease. Vaccines intentionally infected patients with lesser versions of dreaded illnesses, activating their immune systems so the lethal versions would do them no harm. Medicine had made astonishing progress in a very short time, dramatically reducing death from bacteria and viruses, but mankind's confidence was about to be badly shaken as the twentieth century arrived. The great-grandaddy of all pandemics was poised to strike.
World War I was a hellish mashup of modern artillery and antiquated combat strategy. Automatic guns tore human bodies apart at a terrifying rate, spraying the blood of young soldiers all along the Western Front, the main region in Europe where Allied forces (France, Belgium, and Britain, among others) fought the Central Powers (Germany, Austria-Hungary, Bulgaria, and the Ottoman Empire). Military units hunkered down in squalid trenches for months at a time, maintaining a stalemate that showed no sign of ending. These trenches, spread over hundreds of miles and packed with soldiers, were ideal breeding grounds for the 1918 pandemic. Exhausted, shellshocked, unclean, and exposed to the elements, fighting men easily succumbed to the influenza's first wave. The virus genetically shifted from a minor annoyance to a deadly beast that sometimes killed within hours after the first symptoms appeared. Germany became desperate as the United States reluctantly entered World War I at President Woodrow Wilson's command; General Erich Ludendorff knew the time was now to press for the advantage, or Germany would lose the war. This is when the devil virus hit with full force, piling up corpses on both sides of the Western Front. Governments downplayed the threat to avoid alarming the citizenry, but the secret wouldn't keep for long. The 1918 H1N1 pandemic was already the worst medical crisis in history.
Albert Marrin spares his young readers few of the emergency's ghastly details. Dead bodies lay rotting everywhere beneath the hot sun on the Western Front. In centuries past, disease spread slowly, but in the Industrial Age people could travel across a continent in a matter of days on a train or automobile, and asymptomatic carriers brought the devil virus with them. As it mutated, entering its calamitous second wave, medical professionals realized we were headed for disaster. The virus ripped through France, already weakened by years of war; it hit Boston, Massachusetts like a tsunami, snuffing out lives by the thousand as bewildered civilians drowned in their own blood-soaked lungs. Very, Very, Very Dreadful explains in detail how the virus used a victim's own immune system as a weapon to murder them. Even seasoned virologists, used to the gruesome aspects of the profession, were stunned by the sight of dead patients' lungs during an autopsy, swollen with their own blood they had drowned in. This H1N1 flu was a torturous way to die.
As we travel the globe to pursue every angle of the narrative, Albert Marrin relays a steady stream of stories that reflect the suffering on an acutely personal level, as well as hard data emphasizing the potency of the devil virus. Mixed in are dozens of anecdotes about the trauma and tragedy of World War I, revealing the sheer brutality of the conflict. The war was the perfect Petri dish for an influenza pandemic. All our progress in medicine meant little now; we were still ignorant about viruses, leaving tired doctors and nurses with nothing to do but try to keep patients comfortable as they vomited blood and wasted away in puddles of their own pestilence. The second wave of the devil virus killed huge portions of the population in North America, South America, Europe, Africa, and Asia, leaving no nation free of the scythe's blade. Very, Very, Very Dreadful vividly brings the panic alive for us just as the world must have felt it, with death rates rising and no end in sight. Could mankind survive a silent killer that slew tens of millions with ease and threatened much worse? Victor Vaughan, an infectious disease expert, summed up the very real worry of the medical community: "If the epidemic continues its mathematical rate of acceleration, civilization could easily disappear...from the face of the earth within a matter of a few more weeks."
Human nature looks to cast blame for events like the 1918 pandemic. Prominent figures and average citizens pointed fingers at the German war machine or at supposedly inferior ethnic cultures. Some insisted the devil virus was God's judgment on human decadence. Politicians championed "cures" that were really nothing but placebos, and social distancing measures were strictly enforced in the United States, often at gunpoint; in one instance, a blacksmith who refused to don a facemask was shot by a policeman. And still the pandemic worsened; the week of October 23, 1918, 21,000 Americans died. Again Albert Marrin underscores the real human cost of the crisis with dozens of stories told by individuals who survived, stories that range from chilling to deeply emotional. There are heroes and villains, lucky people and unlucky, forbidden from obeying their instinct to come together in a time of crisis because proximity was what the virus thrived on. Would the human psyche ever recover from the pandemic?
What finally halted the devil virus? The end of World War I was a significant factor. With soldiers no longer sardined in trenches, the novel H1N1 strain couldn't spread as easily. A third wave caused a temporary spike in cases, but by 1920 the pandemic was over. The world had entered the twentieth century optimistic that the horrors of past generations had been dealt with, that humanity was on course for unending progress, but World War I and the influenza pandemic shredded those notions. Would utopia ever become reality in a world where a virus could murder a hundred million people over a span of several months?
In the final chapter, Very, Very, Very Dreadful shifts to an exploration of virology, every bit as interesting as the historical narrative that precedes it. In light of the 1918 pandemic, medical professionals saw how little they understood viruses, and set to work increasing their knowledge. How is influenza actually transmitted? Can its genome be sequenced with the goal of engineering a vaccine? The problem, researchers discovered, is the rapid influenza mutation rate: a serviceable vaccine one year may be useless the next. Virologists must constantly be at work anticipating the genetic composition of next year's flu. Failure to develop a mostly effective vaccine each flu season would lead to a massive global rise in deaths. The high-stakes game of cat and mouse continued for decades as researchers learned more about viruses, but much remained a mystery even as this book first entered publication in 2018. Could a vaccine be created to counteract all flu mutations? What would another pandemic look like a hundred years after the devil virus ransacked civilization? Some of these questions were answered in the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020, which made Very, Very, Very Dreadful an uncannily timely book, but the war between man and disease continued. Contagions have caused inestimable suffering, but the history of medicine proves there is reason to hope.
Very, Very, Very Dreadful is superior juvenile nonfiction by an author willing to make the deep research dive required for such an ambitious book. Albert Marrin's writing is nuanced, contemplative, atmospheric, fast-paced, emotionally charged, and deals in timeless social, political, and informational themes. He makes clear his reason for writing this extensive treatise on mankind's endless struggle with disease. "An old proverb says: 'Knowledge is power.' It is, and that is why I have written this book. We need to look backward so we can look forward. We must understand what happened a century ago so we can better face facts and better defend ourselves when the next pandemic strikes, as scientists believe it surely will." Loaded with fascinating facts and stories, Very, Very, Very Dreadful is one of the more stimulating nonfiction books I've read; a big part of me wants to rate it three and a half stars. All that stops me from doing so is the author's occasional tendency to merge his opinion with the facts; his condemnation of evangelist Billy Sunday, for example, or Marrin's assumption that U.S. lockdown orders for the populace should have been handed down at the federal level. Also, certain information in the book's concluding chapter wasn't designed to age as well as the rest of the manuscript. Regardless, Very, Very, Very Dreadful deserves more positive attention than it received. Albert Marrin's talent for narrative nonfiction is sensational.
March 16, 2020
It's weird that we don't talk more about the flu. Specifically, it's weird that the Pandemic of 1918 isn't up there with the Holocaust and WWII in terms of notable massacres of the 20th century. Sure, we talk about it some--I think a few of my grandfather's sisters died in it, and that's to be expected, given that about 1 in 40 who got the disease died, and children and people living in poor, urban areas were more likely to get infected. But I feel like it's not given its due.
Aside from being extremely deadly--far deadlier than all the wars of the 20th century combined, according to this book--it's wild how truly global the pandemic was, and how unprepared for it the world was. Accelerated by the squalor of urbanization, WWI, and increasing globalization, this pandemic was unlike anything before or since; indeed, much of our current flu preparedness methodology is a reaction to pandemics such as the one from 1918.
Perhaps the scariest section was the last one, which talked about the future of the flu. Ever wonder why you only have to get the polio vaccine once, but you get a flu vaccination every year? Well it's because the latter is extremely volatile and changes all the time. Volatility means that it is constantly evolving, and so far we have been able to check it pretty well. But a contagious flu--which (and this is so wild to me) can only ever come about if bird droppings find their way into a pig's digestive tract, which pig then spreads it to human--is capable of some really scary mutations, including the Bird Flu of the early 2000s, which could only pass directly from birds to humans but had a SIXTY PERCENT kill rate (compare that with 2.5% for the deadliest flu ever). The "problem" with the bird flu was that it could not be passed from one human to another.
And yet under lab conditions (thank god), certain scientists have created versions of the bird flu with the mutations that would, if given to a human, be contagious from human to human, potentially setting off a global holocaust the likes of which we've never before seen, and that would make the Black Death look benign by comparison. These scientists were ostensibly conducting research, in the event that someone tried to use such a contagion for malign purposes; after all, it's hard to sneak a nuclear bomb into a country, but you can carry a deadly flu without any detection whatsoever. And then there's always the chance that something like this could evolve on its own. I don't think we have any means for dealing with such a scourge.
Scary, scary stuff.
ETA: in the age of corona virus, we definitely do not have the means for dealing with this scourge.
Aside from being extremely deadly--far deadlier than all the wars of the 20th century combined, according to this book--it's wild how truly global the pandemic was, and how unprepared for it the world was. Accelerated by the squalor of urbanization, WWI, and increasing globalization, this pandemic was unlike anything before or since; indeed, much of our current flu preparedness methodology is a reaction to pandemics such as the one from 1918.
Perhaps the scariest section was the last one, which talked about the future of the flu. Ever wonder why you only have to get the polio vaccine once, but you get a flu vaccination every year? Well it's because the latter is extremely volatile and changes all the time. Volatility means that it is constantly evolving, and so far we have been able to check it pretty well. But a contagious flu--which (and this is so wild to me) can only ever come about if bird droppings find their way into a pig's digestive tract, which pig then spreads it to human--is capable of some really scary mutations, including the Bird Flu of the early 2000s, which could only pass directly from birds to humans but had a SIXTY PERCENT kill rate (compare that with 2.5% for the deadliest flu ever). The "problem" with the bird flu was that it could not be passed from one human to another.
And yet under lab conditions (thank god), certain scientists have created versions of the bird flu with the mutations that would, if given to a human, be contagious from human to human, potentially setting off a global holocaust the likes of which we've never before seen, and that would make the Black Death look benign by comparison. These scientists were ostensibly conducting research, in the event that someone tried to use such a contagion for malign purposes; after all, it's hard to sneak a nuclear bomb into a country, but you can carry a deadly flu without any detection whatsoever. And then there's always the chance that something like this could evolve on its own. I don't think we have any means for dealing with such a scourge.
Scary, scary stuff.
ETA: in the age of corona virus, we definitely do not have the means for dealing with this scourge.
March 8, 2018
Generally this book was ok, but my main criticism is that the description of the work that nurses did during the pandemic was reduced to fluffing pillows, saying kind words to patients, and being pretty faces. The author does acknowledge that the work they did was physically and emotionally exhausting and that nurses were willing to put their own health at risk to help others, but offered no description of what that work actually entailed, beyond fluffing pillows and kind words. I'm certain that the work that nurses did went far beyond this.
January 30, 2018
I ❤️my flu vaccine.
How is it that I didn’t learn about the 1918 flu pandemic in school? I mean, we studied WWI, though perhaps not in much depth (end of the textbook syndrome - where the end often gets truncated due to time constraints.) I don’t recall any mention of how much influence flu had on that war or the world at large.
This is the second book I’ve read looking at this particular epidemic and this one at first reads especially YA - I think at one point the book explains what vodka is. But as I read on, that bothered me less. The end is a bit sensational, it felt perhaps a bit too much, but then it’s a serious concern.
Worth reading and definitely worth sharing with the teens around you. The number of people I know who seem to think the flu is no big deal and vaccination something that can be skipped is deeply concerning to me. Perhaps a better understanding of what happened in 1918 would help influence people to make better choices.
How is it that I didn’t learn about the 1918 flu pandemic in school? I mean, we studied WWI, though perhaps not in much depth (end of the textbook syndrome - where the end often gets truncated due to time constraints.) I don’t recall any mention of how much influence flu had on that war or the world at large.
This is the second book I’ve read looking at this particular epidemic and this one at first reads especially YA - I think at one point the book explains what vodka is. But as I read on, that bothered me less. The end is a bit sensational, it felt perhaps a bit too much, but then it’s a serious concern.
Worth reading and definitely worth sharing with the teens around you. The number of people I know who seem to think the flu is no big deal and vaccination something that can be skipped is deeply concerning to me. Perhaps a better understanding of what happened in 1918 would help influence people to make better choices.
June 12, 2020
Interesting and informative. Loved the narrator
March 1, 2020
As someone who is sick with alarming regularity, I consider it useful to know everything I can about the enemy. I get the flu at least once a year; I had swine flu during the outbreak in 2009 (fun fact: both the swine flu of 2009 and the “Spanish flu” of 1918 are the H1N1 subtype, and it’s suspected that we gave pigs the Spanish flu in 1918, and after some alterations, they passed it back to us in 2009). I’ve had the flu turn into pneumonia twice. I’ve experienced flu bouts so aggressive my temperature approaches 104 F. I’ve hallucinated. I’ve been unable to stand. Me and the flu have been doing battle since 1993, baby, and it wins a lot of battles, but I’m going to win this war.
The Spanish flu of 1918 is the deadliest flu strain in recorded history. About a third of America got infected with this strain of influenza that year. It’s possible that a full 6% of the population died.
Think about that—it’s more than one in twenty. You could take any classroom in America and assume one or two children in that classroom would die within the four month height of the disease (August through November 1918).
Death rates from influenza were so high that the average lifespan dropped twelve years in a single year’s time—from 51 in 1917 to 39 in 1918.
The week of October 23, 1918, 21,000 people died from the flu—still today the highest number of deaths from any one cause in a week in America. The death toll in Philadelphia that week, from influenza alone, was over 700 times the usual death toll from all causes of death.
These are some pretty wild statistics! Even in 1918, the flu wasn’t considered deadly, just vexing, same as today. Can you imagine if 6% of the country died in the course of a few months? Sheer panic. Something you’d never forget, right?
Except the Spanish flu hyas been forgotten. It’s nicknamed the forgotten pandemic, because despite being one of the deadliest worldwide events of any kind (if not THE deadliest in recorded history, ever), it’s often overlooked in history textbooks, scientific research, and just the collective consciousness in general.
But that amnesia could have deadly consequences for us.
***
This is a young adult nonfiction, which I didn’t realize when I picked it up from the library, but it’s not annoyingly dumbed down (aside from one or two instances—like where the author explains what vodka is, to my amusement). It also does an excellent job of explaining zoonotic viruses in general, and how they move from animals to people. (Also, I’ve read about a dozen books on zoonotic viruses, because I find them super interesting . . . but none of them have ever noted that you can catch the common cold from horses. That seems like a very important fact.)
All flu viruses that affect humans originate in waterfowl (ducks, geese) but we don’t typically acquire it directly from birds, and it might not even make us sick or let us infect others if we did. Typically, pigs eat the waterfowl shit that drops into their pen. The flu virus, which has the unusual ability to alter itself constantly, combines with the two old forms of flu virus already carried by the pig: pig flu, and human flu (acquired from contact with the pig’s human handlers). The three types of flu merge together to create constantly new forms of flu that the pig can then pass on to its handlers. Those new forms might contain mutations that make the flu ever more deadly—better able to clamp onto human cell walls, for example, as in the case of the Spanish flu.
In other words: I’m going to blame my meat eating ancestors for any and all viruses I acquire. If we just left well enough alone and ate the berries and the roots, we wouldn’t have this problem.
And here we idiot humans are, crammed together in piles in dense urban environments, living on top of each other. Eating animals that are crammed together in massive factory-farms, where viruses can spread like wildfire and get passed on to humans just as quickly.
Even worse, we’re dicking around with things that ought not be dicked with: one scientist, Dr. Yoshihiro Kawaoka at the University of Wisconsin, combined H1N1 descended from the Spanish flu (which is one of the most contagious, fast-spreading viruses known) with the H5N1 bird flu (which has the highest kill rate among flus—at least 60%) and then, for good measure, mutated this Franken-virus four more times to make it even more potent and contagious than either of its parent viruses—creating what he adorably calls “a real humdinger of a virus.”
If it were released onto humanity, accidentally or intentionally, it would cull the entire earth’s population within days, not weeks. Our bodies have no ability to even try to defend against it.
Oh, and by the way? The method of making this virus is published in scientific journals. Anyone with $31.50 can read it. Any scientist could copy it. Did I mention the US government paid for this experiment, and approved its publication? It’s like we, the human race, doesn’t even want to survive.
I have one major criticism for this book, though: CITATION NEEDED.
There were multiple instances where I stared at the author’s claim and scratched my head. Where’s the evidence? For example:
--Claim: women’s dresses got shorter around the turn of the century so they wouldn’t get dirty on the streets, as a result of the scientific discovery of microbes and germ theory. Me: Er… or modesty and fashion standards changed?
--Claim: The parlor used to be known as the “laying out rooms” (i.e. for the bodies of family members at their funerals) but are now called “living rooms” because people don’t die as soon and they use the rooms for living in. Me: Is it really because we have longer lifespans? Really? Seems a reach
--Claim: until the mid-1800s, nurses were considered unfit for any other type of work. Often they were fallen women, sinners whom judges asked to choose between nursing and jail. Me: But wait, weren’t nurses mostly men prior to the mid-1800s?
--Claim: in the mid-20th century, they experimented on healthy men, a method now illegal in the civilized world. Me: clearly, you haven’t heard of career “human guinea pigs.”
Those are just a few examples, but there are a dozen or so sprinkled throughout that I noticed. That kind of odd claim makes it hard to rely on the author’s more believable assertions. It could use some fact-checking, hence the 2 stars despite the fact I enjoyed it.
The Spanish flu of 1918 is the deadliest flu strain in recorded history. About a third of America got infected with this strain of influenza that year. It’s possible that a full 6% of the population died.
Think about that—it’s more than one in twenty. You could take any classroom in America and assume one or two children in that classroom would die within the four month height of the disease (August through November 1918).
Death rates from influenza were so high that the average lifespan dropped twelve years in a single year’s time—from 51 in 1917 to 39 in 1918.
The week of October 23, 1918, 21,000 people died from the flu—still today the highest number of deaths from any one cause in a week in America. The death toll in Philadelphia that week, from influenza alone, was over 700 times the usual death toll from all causes of death.
These are some pretty wild statistics! Even in 1918, the flu wasn’t considered deadly, just vexing, same as today. Can you imagine if 6% of the country died in the course of a few months? Sheer panic. Something you’d never forget, right?
Except the Spanish flu hyas been forgotten. It’s nicknamed the forgotten pandemic, because despite being one of the deadliest worldwide events of any kind (if not THE deadliest in recorded history, ever), it’s often overlooked in history textbooks, scientific research, and just the collective consciousness in general.
But that amnesia could have deadly consequences for us.
***
This is a young adult nonfiction, which I didn’t realize when I picked it up from the library, but it’s not annoyingly dumbed down (aside from one or two instances—like where the author explains what vodka is, to my amusement). It also does an excellent job of explaining zoonotic viruses in general, and how they move from animals to people. (Also, I’ve read about a dozen books on zoonotic viruses, because I find them super interesting . . . but none of them have ever noted that you can catch the common cold from horses. That seems like a very important fact.)
All flu viruses that affect humans originate in waterfowl (ducks, geese) but we don’t typically acquire it directly from birds, and it might not even make us sick or let us infect others if we did. Typically, pigs eat the waterfowl shit that drops into their pen. The flu virus, which has the unusual ability to alter itself constantly, combines with the two old forms of flu virus already carried by the pig: pig flu, and human flu (acquired from contact with the pig’s human handlers). The three types of flu merge together to create constantly new forms of flu that the pig can then pass on to its handlers. Those new forms might contain mutations that make the flu ever more deadly—better able to clamp onto human cell walls, for example, as in the case of the Spanish flu.
In other words: I’m going to blame my meat eating ancestors for any and all viruses I acquire. If we just left well enough alone and ate the berries and the roots, we wouldn’t have this problem.
And here we idiot humans are, crammed together in piles in dense urban environments, living on top of each other. Eating animals that are crammed together in massive factory-farms, where viruses can spread like wildfire and get passed on to humans just as quickly.
Even worse, we’re dicking around with things that ought not be dicked with: one scientist, Dr. Yoshihiro Kawaoka at the University of Wisconsin, combined H1N1 descended from the Spanish flu (which is one of the most contagious, fast-spreading viruses known) with the H5N1 bird flu (which has the highest kill rate among flus—at least 60%) and then, for good measure, mutated this Franken-virus four more times to make it even more potent and contagious than either of its parent viruses—creating what he adorably calls “a real humdinger of a virus.”
If it were released onto humanity, accidentally or intentionally, it would cull the entire earth’s population within days, not weeks. Our bodies have no ability to even try to defend against it.
Oh, and by the way? The method of making this virus is published in scientific journals. Anyone with $31.50 can read it. Any scientist could copy it. Did I mention the US government paid for this experiment, and approved its publication? It’s like we, the human race, doesn’t even want to survive.
I have one major criticism for this book, though: CITATION NEEDED.
There were multiple instances where I stared at the author’s claim and scratched my head. Where’s the evidence? For example:
--Claim: women’s dresses got shorter around the turn of the century so they wouldn’t get dirty on the streets, as a result of the scientific discovery of microbes and germ theory. Me: Er… or modesty and fashion standards changed?
--Claim: The parlor used to be known as the “laying out rooms” (i.e. for the bodies of family members at their funerals) but are now called “living rooms” because people don’t die as soon and they use the rooms for living in. Me: Is it really because we have longer lifespans? Really? Seems a reach
--Claim: until the mid-1800s, nurses were considered unfit for any other type of work. Often they were fallen women, sinners whom judges asked to choose between nursing and jail. Me: But wait, weren’t nurses mostly men prior to the mid-1800s?
--Claim: in the mid-20th century, they experimented on healthy men, a method now illegal in the civilized world. Me: clearly, you haven’t heard of career “human guinea pigs.”
Those are just a few examples, but there are a dozen or so sprinkled throughout that I noticed. That kind of odd claim makes it hard to rely on the author’s more believable assertions. It could use some fact-checking, hence the 2 stars despite the fact I enjoyed it.
November 4, 2018
Horribly boring and completely fascinating all at the same time! They found the guy from all the black and white school movies from the 1970s and had him narrate this book (or it seems like it). The voice was nostalgic and coma-inducing, but the information was so interesting! I knew that there was a flu pandemic in 1918, but this book helps readers understand how it affected the many things going on around the world at the time. The book also helped to explain viruses themselves and how they mutate and spread. A super great nerd read. Loved it!
February 20, 2018
Warning: don't read this book while you're eating. The details of how victims of the 1918 flu pandemic suffered and died is truly horrifying. It's the stuff of zombie movies: folks bleeding out of their eyes and noses, hacking to death and turning purple, all in one day. Good lord. Even worse were the conditions in the trenches of World War I that helped to spread the virus so rapidly. Trench foot, giant rats, and fleas, oh my. Not to mention the bodies exploding in machine gun fire. So yeah, this book is really depressing and disgusting. In other words, I'm sure a lot of morbid tweens and teens will love it.
The scientific data fascinated me. The last couple of chapters chronicle how modern scientists discovered the origins of the disease by unearthing bodies of WWI soldiers as well as Inuit villagers who died in Alaska and were preserved in permafrost. The author then details the difference between H1N1 (the 1918 "demon virus") and H5N1 (modern bird flu). So that's all very STEM-y and good for science class curriculum tie-ins. He then scared the crap out of me by saying the next pandemic will inevitably happen eventually, but if scientists keep studying each year's flu viruses, they can create a vaccine before humanity is totally destroyed. Phew, thank goodness. But wait, we're not safe yet! It's a strong possibility that terrorists will find a way to spread a deadly flu virus on a plane in an act of bioterrorism someday and then we're all screwed!
So, uh, happy 2018, everyone!
One note for teachers and librarians: this is one of those incredibly frustrating books that's targeted at "age 12+". I'm struggling with the decision to keep it in the teen section as ordered or to move it to elementary nonfiction. The way the author over explains simple concepts like how WWI got its name, or what vodka is ("a strong liquor," just FYI, see page 6!) makes me lean towards elementary. I think this book might find a wider audience among the 10 to 12-year old set.
The scientific data fascinated me. The last couple of chapters chronicle how modern scientists discovered the origins of the disease by unearthing bodies of WWI soldiers as well as Inuit villagers who died in Alaska and were preserved in permafrost. The author then details the difference between H1N1 (the 1918 "demon virus") and H5N1 (modern bird flu). So that's all very STEM-y and good for science class curriculum tie-ins. He then scared the crap out of me by saying the next pandemic will inevitably happen eventually, but if scientists keep studying each year's flu viruses, they can create a vaccine before humanity is totally destroyed. Phew, thank goodness. But wait, we're not safe yet! It's a strong possibility that terrorists will find a way to spread a deadly flu virus on a plane in an act of bioterrorism someday and then we're all screwed!
So, uh, happy 2018, everyone!
One note for teachers and librarians: this is one of those incredibly frustrating books that's targeted at "age 12+". I'm struggling with the decision to keep it in the teen section as ordered or to move it to elementary nonfiction. The way the author over explains simple concepts like how WWI got its name, or what vodka is ("a strong liquor," just FYI, see page 6!) makes me lean towards elementary. I think this book might find a wider audience among the 10 to 12-year old set.
November 11, 2020
Maybe 3.5? The main text about the 1918 flu pandemic left a lot to be desired. Notable though is how the political narratives about whether to protect lives or positively spin things for continued economic activity have been repeated in 2020. It's remarkable how very similar a lot of actions have been even as they've differed with more stay-at-home orders. Of the 1918 flu, Marrin wrote, "Throughout the pandemic, the nation lacked a uniform policy about gathering places, and there was no central authority with the power to make and enforce rules that everyone had to obey. Each community acted on its own, doing as its elected officials thought best." Um, yeah.
The last 20% of the book dealt with subsequent research regarding viruses and was really interesting, by which I mean completely terrifying.
The last 20% of the book dealt with subsequent research regarding viruses and was really interesting, by which I mean completely terrifying.
November 10, 2021
Wow, this is a terrifying look at just how bad the flu of 1918 really was. This book was more disturbing, more frightening, and more disgusting than Stephen King's The Stand. It will haunt me forever. This is well-produced book, written like a slick magazine article, with a great selection of photos and charts.
Two things to note about the 1918 flu:
1. The first wave of the 1918 flu was bad, but it was the second wave that proved to be far more deadly.
2. The 1918 flu lasted three years, from January 1918 through December 1920.
As we pass through the first few months of covid-19, those two facts alone will give me nightmares.
Two things to note about the 1918 flu:
1. The first wave of the 1918 flu was bad, but it was the second wave that proved to be far more deadly.
2. The 1918 flu lasted three years, from January 1918 through December 1920.
As we pass through the first few months of covid-19, those two facts alone will give me nightmares.
May 26, 2025
a very interesting book, especially in light of the recent pandemic. this came out a mere year or so before COVID, and the final warnings Marrin gives are chilling.
July 8, 2025
Very descriptive and realistic.
March 24, 2021
I actually really liked this book. I would give it 5 stars but I save those. Ha ha
This book is full of information that is so interesting to learn about. Not just the flu but viruses and the way they are spread. The history of medical practices and war and really it’s just so interesting. I love medical stuff and history so I found this very fascinating. It’s not told like a story and not quite a textbook. Just information that keeps you listening. The library took it back before I could go back to my bookmarks and hear those again. Darn it!
If you like Gulp or Stiff you will like this as well.
Edit: Just listened to this again. Still loved it. Quite a bit more feelings since we have now lived through a pandemic ourselves.
This book is full of information that is so interesting to learn about. Not just the flu but viruses and the way they are spread. The history of medical practices and war and really it’s just so interesting. I love medical stuff and history so I found this very fascinating. It’s not told like a story and not quite a textbook. Just information that keeps you listening. The library took it back before I could go back to my bookmarks and hear those again. Darn it!
If you like Gulp or Stiff you will like this as well.
Edit: Just listened to this again. Still loved it. Quite a bit more feelings since we have now lived through a pandemic ourselves.
March 6, 2023
This was another excellent book about the horror of the worldwide 1918 Flu Pandemic. It was quite interesting though, that this book came out in 2018, before the world had experienced Covid 19. I find these books quite fascinating!
March 28, 2020
I’m actually very here for this book right now. I worried it would be “too soon” to read it being in the middle of the COVID19 pandemic, but honestly the eeriest part of it is the way it serves as a reminder that, in so many ways—faulty governmental choices and questionable media coverage, propaganda (both “good” and “bad”) responding to the outbreak, myths surrounding the pandemic, and inequitable treatment of individuals—was the “eeriest” part as it reminded me again that history may not repeat but it sure as hell rhymes. (Also a nice LOL moment when a ferret sneezes in a scientist’s face and gives him the flu.)
My only critiques:
-I rarely say this, and I know this is circumstantial, but I wish it were longer! I’d love more historical narrative portions! Even though I wanted more history, the author does a good job balancing the science of epidemiology with the history of the “3 waves” of the Spanish Flu (which, FUN FACT, did NOT originate in Spain and was only named that because Spain was the only country honestly reporting about the epidemic during WWI while the other countries pretended “all was well” to win the war!).
-I hated the authors annoying repetition of “THE DEVIL VIRUS!!!!” as the alternative name for the flu. Stop trying to make fetch happen....
-I did NOT love the tilt towards Islamic Terrorist fear that the conclusion veered into. I know the author was trying to make the concept of biological warfare relevant (and GOD are there some STUPID virus experiments happening out there rn, like the scientist combining all the worst viruses including those that haven’t currently infected humans together to see “if we can do it”—WHY!?!?!?!!). However, I just feel like the author could’ve still kept the threat and urgency of this text relevant without invoking 9/11.
All in all, I actually REALLY recommend this book for those who feel more empowered by “knowing” during these—as every email and advertisement calls it—“uncertain times.”
My only critiques:
-I rarely say this, and I know this is circumstantial, but I wish it were longer! I’d love more historical narrative portions! Even though I wanted more history, the author does a good job balancing the science of epidemiology with the history of the “3 waves” of the Spanish Flu (which, FUN FACT, did NOT originate in Spain and was only named that because Spain was the only country honestly reporting about the epidemic during WWI while the other countries pretended “all was well” to win the war!).
-I hated the authors annoying repetition of “THE DEVIL VIRUS!!!!” as the alternative name for the flu. Stop trying to make fetch happen....
-I did NOT love the tilt towards Islamic Terrorist fear that the conclusion veered into. I know the author was trying to make the concept of biological warfare relevant (and GOD are there some STUPID virus experiments happening out there rn, like the scientist combining all the worst viruses including those that haven’t currently infected humans together to see “if we can do it”—WHY!?!?!?!!). However, I just feel like the author could’ve still kept the threat and urgency of this text relevant without invoking 9/11.
All in all, I actually REALLY recommend this book for those who feel more empowered by “knowing” during these—as every email and advertisement calls it—“uncertain times.”
June 4, 2020
This was a decent short read, despite the rather campy title.
Author Albert Marrin writes with an easy style, and the book doesn't struggle to hold your attention.
For a small book (<250 pages), it covers quite a lot of the bases here. It gives the reader a bit of historical context, and has some decent writing about the conditions of WW1 trench warfare.
The book also has a good bit about the history of medicine; from miasma theory, to germ theory and the discovery of viruses. From Aristotle, to Pasteur and Koch. The book also has some good writing about viral physiology, and the structure of viruses. Good Stuff!
Very, Very, Very Dreadful has a great quote about medieval European cities:
"Fourteenth-century European cities were pestholes—filthy, animal-filled, and rat-infested. As in the first cities, people threw garbage and wastewater out their windows; as a courtesy, they might shout to pedestrians, “Heads up!” or “Lookout below!”
Paris, continental Europe’s largest and grandest city, stank like a latrine. We get a hint of this from an odd fact: Parisians named streets for human waste. Merde, French slang for “excrement,” described reality. There was the rue Merdeux, rue Merdelet, rue Merdusson, and rue des Merdons—Street of Turds. Paris also had the rue du Pipi—Piss Street."
Marrin talks about the bubonic plague here, too.
While I did enjoy the writing here, the book contained a few assertions that don't appear to be true.
If I'm incorrect, anyone can feel free to correct me.
He mentions "...As the infection spreads, either the host creature dies or its immune system fights off the infection. No other outcome is possible." Which is not true. Another outcome is possible; symbiosis, or lasting infection. This is seen predominantly in DNA viruses like herpes, but also some RNA ones, like AIDS.
He also mentions that the pandemic originated in the US, and possibly Canada. Evidence has suggested that this one too originated in China. The first reported case was identified in the US:
1918 Flu Pandemic That Killed 50 Million Originated in China, Historians Say
He asserts: "To become infected, a person has to inhale only one of the suspended viruses." He is talking about the initial viral load, and I have never heard this substantiated anywhere.
The book contains a few other factual inaccuracies as well, that I won't mention here because they are not of consequence. Still, the book could have done with a more rigorous fact-checking.
So while the writing was very good, and the book was very informative, I feel like a star should be knocked off for the factual inaccuracies.
4.5 stars, down to 3.5. Still a good, short read that I would recommend to those interested.
Author Albert Marrin writes with an easy style, and the book doesn't struggle to hold your attention.
For a small book (<250 pages), it covers quite a lot of the bases here. It gives the reader a bit of historical context, and has some decent writing about the conditions of WW1 trench warfare.
The book also has a good bit about the history of medicine; from miasma theory, to germ theory and the discovery of viruses. From Aristotle, to Pasteur and Koch. The book also has some good writing about viral physiology, and the structure of viruses. Good Stuff!
Very, Very, Very Dreadful has a great quote about medieval European cities:
"Fourteenth-century European cities were pestholes—filthy, animal-filled, and rat-infested. As in the first cities, people threw garbage and wastewater out their windows; as a courtesy, they might shout to pedestrians, “Heads up!” or “Lookout below!”
Paris, continental Europe’s largest and grandest city, stank like a latrine. We get a hint of this from an odd fact: Parisians named streets for human waste. Merde, French slang for “excrement,” described reality. There was the rue Merdeux, rue Merdelet, rue Merdusson, and rue des Merdons—Street of Turds. Paris also had the rue du Pipi—Piss Street."
Marrin talks about the bubonic plague here, too.
While I did enjoy the writing here, the book contained a few assertions that don't appear to be true.
If I'm incorrect, anyone can feel free to correct me.
He mentions "...As the infection spreads, either the host creature dies or its immune system fights off the infection. No other outcome is possible." Which is not true. Another outcome is possible; symbiosis, or lasting infection. This is seen predominantly in DNA viruses like herpes, but also some RNA ones, like AIDS.
He also mentions that the pandemic originated in the US, and possibly Canada. Evidence has suggested that this one too originated in China. The first reported case was identified in the US:
1918 Flu Pandemic That Killed 50 Million Originated in China, Historians Say
He asserts: "To become infected, a person has to inhale only one of the suspended viruses." He is talking about the initial viral load, and I have never heard this substantiated anywhere.
The book contains a few other factual inaccuracies as well, that I won't mention here because they are not of consequence. Still, the book could have done with a more rigorous fact-checking.
So while the writing was very good, and the book was very informative, I feel like a star should be knocked off for the factual inaccuracies.
4.5 stars, down to 3.5. Still a good, short read that I would recommend to those interested.
March 8, 2020
I read this book looking for insights into what could possibly happen as the coronavirus keeps spreading. I don't know if a lot of it applies or not. Viruses were unknown in 1918, and treatments were nonexistent. Although there is no vaccine for the coronavirus yet, at least we know what we are up against. Still, if the hospitals become overwhelmed, which could very easily happen, you are on your own to prevent/treat this virus, just like back then. I think boosting your immune system is key. Also taking antivirals daily including elderberry syrup (proven as good as Tamiflu), garlic capsules, echinacea, drinking green tea, olive oil extract and oregano oil may be enough. Hopefully.
May 23, 2020
I've been reading up on last century's 'Spanish' Flu pandemic, which seems the closest historical precedent for the ongoing COVID-19 crisis of today. And this title is a generally solid contribution to that body of knowledge, but it has a few issues that keep me from giving a full endorsement. For such a short book it often wanders quite afield of its topic, and author Albert Marrin makes a few tenuous claims that I'd love to see better supported. (I don't reject outright the idea that widespread appreciation for influenza nurses helped lead to American women's suffrage a few years later, for instance, but that's the sort of claim that really requires evidence accompanying it.) There's also an uneven tone that feels as though certain passages were constructed for younger audiences than others, with authorial asides to define commonplace concepts like autopsies alongside unexplained references to more obscure / adult topics like enemas.
My biggest issue is probably how Marrin, writing in 2018, derides the practice of mask-wearing during an outbreak as completely ineffectual. Not only does that strike me as insensitive to the people back then who were operating with the best information available, but it also flies in the face of what scientists are telling us now, suggesting that this writer and his fact-checkers may not have performed their full and diligent research throughout.
It's not a complete waste, and I have picked up some details that I haven't seen elsewhere before (to the extent they can be trusted, of course). I appreciate how the 81-year-old author includes his own parents' experiences with the disease, which really help bring the era to life. But I wouldn't suggest anyone check this out as their first or only coverage on the subject.
Find me on Patreon | Goodreads | Blog | Twitter
My biggest issue is probably how Marrin, writing in 2018, derides the practice of mask-wearing during an outbreak as completely ineffectual. Not only does that strike me as insensitive to the people back then who were operating with the best information available, but it also flies in the face of what scientists are telling us now, suggesting that this writer and his fact-checkers may not have performed their full and diligent research throughout.
It's not a complete waste, and I have picked up some details that I haven't seen elsewhere before (to the extent they can be trusted, of course). I appreciate how the 81-year-old author includes his own parents' experiences with the disease, which really help bring the era to life. But I wouldn't suggest anyone check this out as their first or only coverage on the subject.
Find me on Patreon | Goodreads | Blog | Twitter
December 22, 2020
4-4.5 Stars
Wow...just remember that, when you read about stuff like this, there is always a doomsday element attached. Lurking behind the narrative ostentatiously because we all know that stuff like this can happen again in the near future. Excellently researched, the narrative got lost to me a few times because I studied the War from the political and social standpoint in college (will get to the military part at some point, but it's really depressing). It is truly incredible that disease can affect politics in such a way as it did during and after the war...incredible, truly. This is a rich information source for more than one kind of history paper and, I believe, the fact that it's literally been 100 years really puts perspective on it. Have we done enough research? Has anything truly changed? Could this be truly prevented? So many questions. Some are definitely answered and others aren't, but that's science for you.
For the sake of all of us, I truly hope that this does not happen, in any way, period, again.
Highly recommended for: history buffs, natural disaster junkies, bio-ocalypse fiends, and everyday people who just want to know more.
[2019 edit] **This was included as part of my assigned reading as a reader for the Garden State Teen Book Awards (GSTBA) -part of the New Jersey Library Association (NJLA)'s Young Adult Services Section (YASS). Mouthful! Books on the GSTBA ballot were published within the past 2 years and are selected from 'best books' lists from that time. We read and propose/choose which books will be included on following year's ballot. Teens then vote for their favorites and the winners are notified in time for our annual conference.**
This is really awesome; so, check us out if you live in NJ OR see if your state's library association (or local library system) has a similar program^_^
Wow...just remember that, when you read about stuff like this, there is always a doomsday element attached. Lurking behind the narrative ostentatiously because we all know that stuff like this can happen again in the near future. Excellently researched, the narrative got lost to me a few times because I studied the War from the political and social standpoint in college (will get to the military part at some point, but it's really depressing). It is truly incredible that disease can affect politics in such a way as it did during and after the war...incredible, truly. This is a rich information source for more than one kind of history paper and, I believe, the fact that it's literally been 100 years really puts perspective on it. Have we done enough research? Has anything truly changed? Could this be truly prevented? So many questions. Some are definitely answered and others aren't, but that's science for you.
For the sake of all of us, I truly hope that this does not happen, in any way, period, again.
Highly recommended for: history buffs, natural disaster junkies, bio-ocalypse fiends, and everyday people who just want to know more.
[2019 edit] **This was included as part of my assigned reading as a reader for the Garden State Teen Book Awards (GSTBA) -part of the New Jersey Library Association (NJLA)'s Young Adult Services Section (YASS). Mouthful! Books on the GSTBA ballot were published within the past 2 years and are selected from 'best books' lists from that time. We read and propose/choose which books will be included on following year's ballot. Teens then vote for their favorites and the winners are notified in time for our annual conference.**
This is really awesome; so, check us out if you live in NJ OR see if your state's library association (or local library system) has a similar program^_^
March 10, 2020
This book really disappointed me, especially considering the author has been a National Book Award finalist in the past! I'm not sure what the recommended age is for this book, but at my library it is shelved with juvenile non-fiction. Typically we think of this as books for kids up through middle school, and this book is far too dense for that age group. I wouldn't recommend this from anyone younger than high school, because even I was struggling to get through much of it.
I felt that this was poorly executed non-fiction. It couldn't decide whether to be narrative or science-based, so it became a mess of both. The narrative passages were sometimes interesting, like the opening story telling about Fort Riley. But Marrin stuck with the narrative style when discussing the science of viruses, the flu, and the history of infectious disease. There were very few diagrams, illustrations, and photographs included in this book, and it desperately needed an illustrator. This structural choice made it very difficult for me to grasp these concepts. I also disliked the narrative passages that included random quotes from literature, philosophers, doctors, nurses, and soldiers. I needed some narrative thread to run through the entire book, and I never got that.
The author also had a hard time relating background information to the topic at hand. While I understand why he chose to give an overview of the history of infectious diseases, this could have been much more effective with graphics and continual comparisons to modern-day. There was also so much information about World War I that was never really connected to the flu--I think I know what he was trying to do, but much of it felt disjointed.
As a children's book, this really missed the mark. As an adult reading it, I was disappointed as well.
I felt that this was poorly executed non-fiction. It couldn't decide whether to be narrative or science-based, so it became a mess of both. The narrative passages were sometimes interesting, like the opening story telling about Fort Riley. But Marrin stuck with the narrative style when discussing the science of viruses, the flu, and the history of infectious disease. There were very few diagrams, illustrations, and photographs included in this book, and it desperately needed an illustrator. This structural choice made it very difficult for me to grasp these concepts. I also disliked the narrative passages that included random quotes from literature, philosophers, doctors, nurses, and soldiers. I needed some narrative thread to run through the entire book, and I never got that.
The author also had a hard time relating background information to the topic at hand. While I understand why he chose to give an overview of the history of infectious diseases, this could have been much more effective with graphics and continual comparisons to modern-day. There was also so much information about World War I that was never really connected to the flu--I think I know what he was trying to do, but much of it felt disjointed.
As a children's book, this really missed the mark. As an adult reading it, I was disappointed as well.
November 16, 2017
The Influenza Pandemic of 1918 is a really interesting part of history. It hit at the height of WWI and changed the coarse of the war and it killed more people than we can even imagine. I think the most interesting thing about the flu was that it basically just ran its coarse. Doctors and nurses treating flu patients had no real affect on whether they lived or died because there weren't treatments available that cured the flu. Marrin does a great job researching the pandemic, but I would have loved a bit more information on the fight against flu and how they determined its origins. I think Gail Jarrow does a much better job of writing nonfiction medical mysterious for kids that actually talk about the science. Marrin focused more on the human and political factors. I also really disliked the title (seriously three verys) and the fact that Marrin kept calling it a devil virus. A little more facts, a little less hyperbole. The book was very readable and made the information interesting, I just wanted more from it.
I received an advance copy from the publishers.
I received an advance copy from the publishers.
April 16, 2018
With plenty of research and photographs, Marrin delves deep into influenza. But before doing that, there is a long introduction (several chapters' worth) of information about epidemics, pandemics, animals, viruses, humans, history, etc. to give a very detailed and very complete picture.
I like a little "every man" narrative nonfiction and this felt a bit more "specialized audience" because of the thickness of the text and how the information was delivered. While I learned quite a few things (the amount of viruses they think are in the ocean and it's equivalent weight measured in whales), it was hard to remember because the information just kept coming.
With an eye-catching cover, a fabulous title, and a crazy story of the pandemic itself, I need it to be a bit more digestible. Less narrative nonfiction and more informational. It wasn't an easy lunch read, I can tell you that much!
I like a little "every man" narrative nonfiction and this felt a bit more "specialized audience" because of the thickness of the text and how the information was delivered. While I learned quite a few things (the amount of viruses they think are in the ocean and it's equivalent weight measured in whales), it was hard to remember because the information just kept coming.
With an eye-catching cover, a fabulous title, and a crazy story of the pandemic itself, I need it to be a bit more digestible. Less narrative nonfiction and more informational. It wasn't an easy lunch read, I can tell you that much!
November 21, 2017
Supremely interesting. I've been looking for a readable book about the Spanish Flu (so named, I learned, because WWI-neutral Spain was the first country to report on it, as the fighting powers didn't want their enemies to know the truth about their rapidly-sickening troops) for years, and this fit the ticket perfectly. Did you know the 1918 Flu killed more Americans than the US military lost in WWI + WWII + Korea + Vietnam?! True story!
A note to the editors: pg. 130: you'll want to check your German translation of "the war is over" -- "der Krieg ist über" is the literal word-for-word translation, but it's not correct. Either "der Krieg ist vorbei" or "der Krieg ist aus" would be more accurate.
A note to the editors: pg. 130: you'll want to check your German translation of "the war is over" -- "der Krieg ist über" is the literal word-for-word translation, but it's not correct. Either "der Krieg ist vorbei" or "der Krieg ist aus" would be more accurate.
February 20, 2020
Although this book is about the 1918 flu epidemic it also has chapters on the history of infectious diseases (Bubonic Plague, etc.) and related scientific discoveries. There are also chapters on diseases of war and how war (especially World War I) weakens the population. The book covers examples of the 1918 flu in Europe, America, and worldwide and discusses the detective process of tracking down the science and how flu may evolve to cause future pandemics. Has End Notes, Further Reading, Index, and Picture Credits. Yikes. Scary.
July 26, 2020
This book includes bits of very dreadful nonsense like the idea that lower life expectancy in the past means that everyone died at a young adult age. Other reviews here on Goodreads point out assorted other head scratchers that would require some references to back them up if this were serious non-fiction. Apparently one can get away without that level of rigor when writing for young readers, for whom a dumbed down version of other material is sufficient. However, I'd be curious to know if teens prefer this to one of the actual grown-up books, or if pre-teens like this at all.
September 28, 2019
This was a very fascinating book and I really enjoyed it. I think one of the most interesting things about this topic is how little it is discussed in the history books and classes. I was a former history teacher and took several history classes in college and I cannot recollect this pandemic ever being more than just mentioned as a side note. This was a major world event!
November 20, 2020
A really good YA non fiction history of the 1918 influenza pandemic and it's impact on WW1, with some good history on infectious disease in general. Not too science-y but does a great job explaining and making the story understandable. I'd say this is good for ages 14/15 and older.
July 17, 2024
This was interesting but also very dry and for a book categorized as “young adult non-fiction”, I was hoping it would be less science and more “story”.
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