Flu: The Story of the Great Influenza Pandemic of 1918 and the Search
for the Virus That Caused It. By Gina Kolata. NY: Farrar, Straus and
Giroux, 1999. 330 pages. $25.
Reviewed by Margaret Black
With Gina Kolata's Flu, all us closet hypochondriacs get two, quite
different but equally gripping, well-written medical tales for the price of
one. The first story describes ten ghastly months in 1918-19 when an
extraordinarily lethal strain of influenza swept the globe; the second
recounts the stumbling detective work involved in finding and understanding
the cause.
The 1918 flu infected well over a quarter of all Americans, unexpectedly
exterminating healthy, young adults in preference to small children or the
very old. More died of the flu than were killed in all our twentieth-century
wars -- World War I, World War II, Korea, Vietnam. Coffins were stacked on
streetcars in Philadelphia, steamshovels dug mass graves, small towns were
emptied. World wide, the disease not only cut down the troops huddled in
French trenches, it stalked every continent, reaching from Arctic villages
to Samoan beaches. Over 100 million people died. Even the horrific Black
Death, the archetypal plague of European history, did not destroy at this
rate. Phenomenally contagious, this virulent strain of a commonplace
infection failed to kill even more because in 1919 it simply disappeared.
The author's deft recall of prior plagues in history shows that people
reacted in a most unusual way. Perhaps World War I had already produced too
much mythic horror, but whatever the reason, when the disease was gone, it
plunged into oblivion. Everyone had lost family members, hordes of children
were orphaned, but no one talked about it. Historians ignored it. Despite
study as a microbiologist and years covering disease and medicine for
The New York Times, the author did not learn of the pandemic until
1997, when she read a scientific paper about trying to recover genetic
material from the virus.
Filling what she thought was a incredible void, Kolata produced a brief, at
times gruesomely graphic account of the 1918 flu. But as often happens when
one gets a good idea, other writers did too. PBS recently produced a
documentary and companion volume, Influenza 1918, and an earlier
account by Alfred Crosby, America's Forgotten Pandemic, also
examines 1918 quite extensively. Nevertheless, Kolata holds her own, and
readers may even appreciate her succinctness. In any case, the real strength
of her book actually lies in the second story -- the search for the cause
and possible future prevention.
This drama teems with fascinating characters, heartstopping experiments,
professional rivalries, ethnic and gender narrowmindedness, political
errors, and lucky accidents. There is even comedy, as when we watch a team
of British scientists valiantly trying to coat the throats of their most
successful test animals -- vile-tempered, sharp-toothed, squirming ferrets.
Political buffs will enjoy Kolata's excruciating day-by-day examination of
the swine flu vaccine disaster of 1976. By the time she's hung everybody out
to dry, we actually pity the politicians, stuck as they are in a lose-lose
situation, to say nothing of the scientists who had to persuade the public
that some people dropped stone dead after a vaccination because they would
have anyway.
With a light hand, Kolata sketches clear explanations of complex scientific
problems and experiments. She helps us comprehend which pieces of a flu
virus are important to follow and why. She constantly reminds us that the
one thing following another does not necessarily make it an effect of the
first. By taking us down several investigatory dead ends, she replicates
briefly the perennial frustrations most researchers experience. But most of
all, she excels at personal histories -- of doctors, researchers and even
certain individual victims, who, long after their deaths, made advances in
research possible.
Without doubt, the prince of this book is Johan V. Hultin, a Swedish-born
American pathologist. Twice he plays a key role in locating and retrieving
actual 1918 flu virus samples. Both times we see him trekking with little
money through the wilds of Alaska to dig up victims buried so deep in
permafrost they may still have frozen flu virus in their lungs. No special
equipment for Hultin, our author notes with positive glee, but his amazing
ability to invent on-the-spot solutions to intractable problems, endure
personal discomfort, and make friends with just about anyone. Hultin leaves
on his first trip suddenly because he discovers that the US Army has stolen
his idea from a grant application he has made to the National Institutes of
Health. (NIH holds up his grant while the Army outfits its own—needless to
say, classified—expedition. Kolata beautifully contrasts Hultin's second
foray, 40 years later, with another vast, but this time enormously
publicity-conscious expedition to dig up seven flu victims in Norway.
At the end of Kolata's book, despite all the breakthroughs and discoveries,
the mystery is still not solved. Although the killer virus appears to be in
custody, and genetic decoding is under way, huge gaps still exist in
understanding why that particular mutation proved so lethal or how we can
prevent a future recurrence. So all us disease junkies can keep the flu
virus in our nightmare collections along with Ebola, anthrax, AIDS,
whatever. It's not over yet.