My main thought, as I went through this book, was, Who is the Audience?
My next thought was, That really shouldn't matter. Everything doesn't have to be a brand. Everything doesn't have to be written with an audience in mind. There are books written from obsessions--and this is one of them. It reminds me, in that sense, of many other histories of science written int he nineteenth and mid-twentieth century by practitioners or former practitioners, who are interested in the past of their subject, but not in history per se.
So, this is not a book for historians--except as a pointer to sources--but for MS doctors. If you go into it with that expectation, you'll do fine.
Murray does do something of a fake out early on, citing the eminent historian of medicine Charles Rosenberg, and making reference to this "Framing Disease" approach to the history of medicine, But he uses this theoretical scaffolding in very limited ways. Primarily, this is an intellectual history of the understanding of MS, with the standard Whiggish assumptions, and occasional flashes of something more interesting.
Murray wants to argue that M.S. is something that has been with humanity for a long time, but was only properly recognized in the 19th century. In this, he is clearly arguing against those who suggest it is a recent disease, or a disease of civilization. His evidence for this claim, though, never really adds up, and so his review of pre-19th century material is interesting enough--in terms of looking back on how people experienced medical suffering in other eras--but does nothing to prove that what they experienced was what we know of as M.S.
He then moves into early 19th century descriptions of the disease--his point here being that Charcot, who is generally credited with discovering MS, built on previous work. That's true enough, and Murray does yeoman work in ferreting out old reports and detailing exact dates and what-not. But in the end he just verifies the importance of Charcot: sure he built on others, but he clarified the disease and set the standard for the next, like, sixty years.
Charcot's ideas became dominant, in part, because medical education in the nineteenth century often flowed through Paris, where clinical correlations with pathological studies were being made--this is one instant where Murray moves beyond the individual to look at some larger social structures. But even so, he never follows Rosenberg in noting that diseases are not just institutionally defined, but each generation does so in a slightly different way. For him, the generations show refinement--or stagnation--but not other kinds of change.
After Charcot, there continued to be work on MS, with a whole host of treatments, but most doctors, even as they treated the patients, acknowledged that there were no good therapeutics. A lot of this work seems to have been done in England and Canada, which seems to be a sub-rosa argument Murray is making: the importance of English neurology and Canadian clinical work. He's a Canadian, so there may be some chauvinism there, I don't know.
There were changes in the understanding of MS in the years after World War II, as it came to be attached to immunology especially, in addition to neurology. Still, a lot of the middle part of the book is a muddle--a series of annotated lists of various people who did various kinds of work on MS without trying to summarize anything. I could never tell if there was an actual community of MS researchers, or just various people who worked on the disease from various directions and had different ideas about the disorder.
As anyone familiar with the disorder can say now, the 1980s witnessed a dramatic change in the intellectual understanding of MS., first because of the invention of MRIs, which allowed for the visualization of the brain and spine lesions, and then, in the 1990s, with therapies that proved somewhat effective.
The book really misses out on the other aspects of Rosenberg's "Framing Disease" theoretical model, which could have made it more interesting--and that relates to the sense of community. He mentions that MS Societies in the 1950s and 1960s, started by a woman concerned about her brother, but only sketches out something of that community in the final chapter--at the same time mentioning that patients often turned to alternative medicines because of the lack of therapeutics. There's also an earlier chapter on a diary written by a man with MS that is enlightening.
I think of Steve Epstein's amazing history of AIDs, which is structured similarly--the history of a recent disease--but takes seriously the framing model to look at the way individual sufferers effected understanding of the disease, including scientific research and government research. I don't know--though I doubt--that the MS community was ever as activist or confrontational as the gay and AIDS-communities, but there's a story to be told there, as well as the institutional role of pharmaceutical companies, as creatures that define disease, not just provide helpful therapeutics. A story about those interacting factors--sufferers, clinicians, researchers, policy makers, pharmaceutical companies--that is the story Murray promised but does not deliver.
This is just intellectual history. It is written in an academic style that makes me think of pieces in medical journals that are trying to reach out to the humanities but cannot escape their own language. It is also true that Murray does not bother to translate many medical terms