Why do we persist in believing that plague and pestilence are confined to the dark pit of history? The common misconception seems to be that such terrors were the stuff of the dark ages, and even with the world caught in the grip (grippe for the French?) of the Swine Flu pandemic many are still of that opinion.

Of course recent history tells a different tale. The twentieth century began with the swift death of 25 million people in the Spanish Flu pandemic, Malaria continues to kill by the million, we have had SARS and Bird Flu, and AIDS has certainly not gone away. Pestilence is here to stay.

And of course books have been written with plague as a main character. When (if) we read them we tend to do so out of a sense of historical interest, again viewing the particular disease in question as ancient affliction, and in the sure and certain belief that medicine and good health care will keep us safe. Again just think of Spanish Flu, Malaria, AIDS … so why the self-delusion?

But what about the books? They are fascinating and informative, but best avoided if you think you might have Swine Flu or are living next door to someone who has it. Two of my favourites are the following:

LA PESTE: the classic account of bubonic plaque read by every British 17 year old who did A level French. Camus wrote it and set the action in the Algerian city of Oran. Dead rats were noticed first before people began to die and it took a while before politicians were willing to subject the city to a rigorous quarantine. Eventually bodies were being covered in lime as they lay in mass graves, people tried to escape, everyone was looking not only for cures but for the reason behind the plague. God didn’t fare too well in all of this – he’s usually the first to get the blame for such like. The other option was to see the world as devoid of God, reason and sense, absurd in other words. The atmosphere is claustrophobic with no-one allowed in or out of the city. No letters were allowed out and the people of Oran were entirely cut off. Then the plague stopped as abruptly as it had started. A horror story with many deep meanings, but it demonstrates the possibilities. Could my city be quarantined like Oran? How would I cope with having to give up the dead bodies of members of my family to be tossed into a mass grave? Would I assent to would-be escapees being shot in order to prevent the spread of life-threatening disease?

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I PROMESSI SPOSI: a love story this time, but set in the plague years in Italy and brilliantly told by Alessandro Manzoni. Renzo and Lucia seem destined to sadness as history and society get in the way of their love. But for our purposes, lets skip the slush and get down to the nitty gritty of the pestilential Black Death that ravaged Europe. The best part for me are scenes in the Lazaretto where the afflicted go to die. Manzoni’s passages about the misery and suffering are moving, as are his depiction of the monks who risk infection to care for the dying. If Swine Flu is to be anything like this I think I might just check out of this world now rather than run the risk of catching it. Pictures still linger in my mind of cart loads of dead bodies being pulled through the deserted streets, people throwing their children, parents, spouses out of windows to be collected. It’s punishing to read, and to read it with Swine Flu in mind is positively unnerving. Excellent story though.

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