Are you familiar with pellagra? Unless you're a history buff (or, maybe, a fan of Good Eats, which mentioned it in passing on one episode) you've probably never even heard of it before. And yet, as recently as a hundred years ago, pellagra was dangerously widespread, the fourth leading cause of death in some Southern states, and there was no medical consensus of how to cure the disease, how to treat it, or even what caused it. Mold? Bacteria? Poor hygiene? Actually, pellagra is a disease of malnutrition, caused by a diet that's heavy on corn products and fat but has little protein and vegetables. Hence why it was so common in the South, a region that still loves its cornmeal. Pellagra is the reason for our enriched bread, which is why a disease that was so common as little as 80 years ago is virtually unheard of in modern America.
I like a good medical mystery. Jarrow is very careful here, avoiding tilting her hand any earlier than necessary. She knows exactly what caused pellagra, of course, but she allows the science to unfold exactly as it would have, without stepping in to say, basically, "People thought this, wasn't that dumb?" A totally uninformed reader would know no more about the disease while reading than had already been uncovered at that point in the chronology. Not every medical mystery can be written like this, but pellagra is obscure enough to work, and it makes reading about it that much more compelling.
For me, one of the most fascinating things was just how long it took to wipe out the disease, even after it was fully explained and a cure was common knowledge. There was a lot of pushback from Southern doctors and politicians. How dare those damn Yankees paint the South as a land of famine and plague! Then, too, changing your diet is often easier said than done, especially when the solution is so much more expensive than the previous diet. Hence enriched bread, as cheap as unenriched (and, in some states, legally required) and a surefire preventative to a horrible and simple disease.
At certain points, Jarrow pauses the narrative to offer very short case studies. Just a few paragraphs each, these brief passages put a human face on the disease: a woman so distraught at being diagnosed that she killed herself, a mother who lost her mind in the late stages of the illness, a man who cured himself by changing his own diet. Combined with numerous pictures of people suffering from the disease, these passages do more to make the pellagra understandable to the target audience of the book than statistics and a list of symptoms could.
This is a good example of the narrative nonfiction that's becoming more common in YA: well-researched, heavily illustrated, and with a narrow historical focus. With a book like this, you can learn a lot about a little in just 150 pages. The cover isn't particularly eye-catching, but the title is interesting enough to get a bit of attention on its own. The writing strikes a good tone for YA nonfiction: informal, engaging, but avoiding talking down to the reader. So it's fun to read, and you'll learn something. Not bad.