The American Plague: The True and Terrifying Story of the Yellow Fever Epidemic of 1793 is a non-fiction book intended for students in late elementary and middle school. Murphy’s purpose is both to teach and to entertain. The syntax and vocabulary remain challenging, and the narrative arc of the energetic search for the origins of yellow fever will sustain student interest. Class discussions may even broach the subject of later epidemics, such as the coronavirus pandemic.

The setting for Philadelphia’s yellow fever epidemic foreshadows the life-and-death drama that unfolds. The summer of 1793 is brutal, with an “unrelenting” sun. To add to the discomfort, signs of death are everywhere: “Dead fish and gooey vegetable matter were exposed and rotted, while swarms of insects droned in the heavy, humid air.” People could hardly catch their breath because a load of rancid coffee had been dumped at Ball’s Wharf, and the outdoor markets were just as repulsive. They were crowded with “roasting meats, strong cheeses, days-old sheep and cow guts, dried blood, and horse manure.” These putrid details set the stage for a terrible disease.

Murphy weaves in further details about Philadelphia in 1793 via two main sources: Benjamin Rush’s letters to his wife and passages from Emily Drinker’s journals. Both letters and journals are important primary sources for facts, but they also provide space and time for reflection on the epidemic. Sometimes they offer powerful expressions of sadness or dread. Drinker feels “surrounded” on all sides by death, and she writes on Wednesday, August 28: “There is a man next door but one to us, who Dr. Kuhn says will quickly die of this terrible disorder. Caty Prusia, over against us is very ill, and a man at ye Shoemakers next door to Neighr Waln’s; some sick in our Alley.”

Responding to this grave situation in Philadelphia were a number of true heroes. Indeed, Murphy conveys the history of the epidemic by interweaving the narratives of notable—and in many, cases, heroic—individuals. For example, Absalom Jones and Richard Allen of the Free African Society were amongst the first nurses to answer Benjamin Rush’s call for help. Usually, the organization’s main purpose was to care for widows and orphaned children, but the pair volunteered to visit immediately with anyone who was ill. They soon found a house in which “the mother was already dead, the father was dying, and two small children huddled together, frightened and hungry.” Though they and all their members had suffered poor treatment by whites, this pair continued to visit the sick and organize teams of Black nurses. 

Mayor Clarkston likewise distinguished himself through his sacrificial leadership. He lost his wife and youngest son in the epidemic and yet led the Committee of 12 that kept the city running. These committee members pulled heavily from the middle ranks of Philadelphia life and worked in various jobs before their extra service: “One of them was an umbrella maker; another built cabinets; another, chairs. Two carpenters volunteered, as did a teacher, a mechanic, a coach builder, and a playing card maker.” The Committee of 12, responsible for the care and feeding of so many, drew its strength from its great diversity.

After the plague eased, scientists took up the challenge of figuring out the method of transmission for the disease. Chapter 11, “A Modern-Day Time Bomb,” is suspenseful and dense with scientific achievements. Josiah Nutt from Alabama began to wonder if the mosquito could be involved in disease transmission, because yellow fever cases appeared to decrease when swamps were drained. Dr. Carlos Finlay of Havana, Cuba began to suspect the...