'It's unnerving': Lawrence Wright on the eerie prescience of his pandemic novel
The novel virus first emerged in east Asia. By spring, a pandemic suffuses the globe. In America, businesses shut down, airports empty, misinformation abounds. The president, a divisive figure with a tanning bed in the White House, offers baseless reassurances, and appoints the dubiously pious vice-president to lead the pandemic response. This would be a decent summary of the past two months, if it wasn’t the plot to The End of October, a new novel by Lawrence Wright, which flies thrillingly, eerily close to reality – a global outbreak of a deadly pathogen with no known cure in the kinetic, flammable information torrent of the late 2010s.
“It’s unnerving” Wright, a New Yorker staff writer and Pulitzer-winning journalist, told the Guardian on the surreal fortune of releasing a global pandemic novel during a global pandemic. “It was meant to be a warning cry, when we weren’t buffeted by all this dire news. Whenever I open the paper it feels like I’m reading my own book. It’s weird.” The End of October, which Lawrence began writing in 2017 (his final draft was submitted in summer 2019), is a deeply researched scenarioplay of a novel – the world faced with a 1918 Spanish flu-type pathogen – told in brisk, unsparing prose. Competence and expertise serve as its compass; Wright’s American protagonist, Dr Henry Parsons, is a cunning, emotionally clamped virologist with the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), outrunning a shady past at a secret lab in Maryland’s Fort Detrick.
Alarmed by a mass die-off in an Indonesian political concentration camp for young gay men, Henry travels to Jakarta, where he discovers “Kongoli virus”, named after the camp, a gruesome new form of hemorrhagic influenza. Wright’s writing is clinical and unblinking – you stare into chest cavities, at lungs subsumed in fluid, at bodies turned blue by cyanosis, or lack of oxygen. The Kongoli camp is quarantined and swarmed by various health agencies that are, like Henry, veterans of the 2014 Ebola outbreak in west Africa. But when an inadvertently exposed taxi driver makes the hajj – the Islamic holy pilgrimage to Mecca – along with 3 million other people, all bets for containing the spread are off. Within days, people die en masse around the world.
The idea for a modern pandemic story originated in 2010, when filmmaker Ridley Scott approached Wright to write a screenplay about the end of civilization. “In my mind, the more likely way civilization would be threatened like that would be a pandemic,” said Wright, who long admired the “really creative, intelligent” epidemiologists, microbiologists and virologists he encountered as a journalist. Though they never made the movie, “I was always interested and I thought it was a really good story,” he said. “I decided that if I was going to do it, I would have to do the research I had failed to do when I was working on it as a script.”
Wright, known for incredibly thorough research in his non-fiction work, took a journalistic approach to researching the novel – reading as much as possible, contacting experts (the acknowledgments cite leading experts from the NIH, Columbia and Pfizer, among others). His sources were “the same guys who are developing a vaccine – they’re the best minds around” and helped Wright contort his way out of a medical puzzle he’d written into the novel’s second half, when pandemic-stranded Henry is trying to get home to his family in Atlanta. They also color the novel with rich and accessible scientific detail on viruses, bioweapons and past pandemics.
Wright primarily based the Kongoli virus on the 1918 Spanish flu, which also arrived in the US in the spring, lulled in the summer, and returned with a deadlier second wave in the fall. The title The End of October pays tribute to arguably the most mortal month in American history, in which 195,000 people died. “The question I was asking my experts was: what would happen if something like the 1918 flu appeared in our civilization?” Wright said. “Would we be any better prepared than our ancestors? It’s not clear what the answer is.”
The fictional Kongoli virus is, however, far more lethal than Covid-19, with a mortality rate closer to previous coronaviruses Sars (15%) and Mers (about 35%). The End of October plunges beyond the relative chaos of the current moment into full societal breakdown – the government in bunkers, schools looted, ATMs empty of cash. Millions die in the US, including celebrities like Taylor Swift. Blood drips from the president’s eye on national television; one character searches the radio and finds only conspiracy theorist Alex Jones.
In writing Kongoli’s geopolitical fallout – Russia escalates cyberwarfare and tensions boil over in the Gulf – Wright worked in expertise honed in his previous non-fiction books on conflict in the Middle East (Thirteen Days in September), religious fanaticism (Going Clear, an exposé on Scientology turned into a 2015 HBO documentary) and the War on Terror (The Looming Tower, on al-Qaida’s road to 9/11, which earned him a Pulitzer prize in 2007). “I looked at the antagonisms, the rivalries, and I just imagined if you add stress – a pandemic – then what would happen?” he said. “It’s pretty dismaying to watch the blame game going on right now and seeing that governments are behaving pretty much as expected.”
Though (as of now) much more apocalyptic than the present, Wright’s book anticipates several elements of the Covid pandemic: hate crimes against the minority group blamed for the virus (in the novel’s case, Muslims). Ventilator shortages. Empty, flailing attempts at reassurance from the administration. But he, like many public health experts, did not anticipate a breakdown in testing. “I was horrified,” said Wright of the testing debacle. “And saddened, because the CDC in my experience had always been one of the glittering prizes of American government, something you could always rely upon – their expertise, their competence, their authority. And to see them stumble so badly, it’s heartbreaking.”
He also didn’t anticipate one hopeful development of this pandemic: “the solidarity of individual citizens to isolate themselves at enormous personal costs, social costs, spiritual costs, financial costs”.
There’s a compulsive thrill to reading a book which grazes, and then runs off with, our increasingly ungraspable reality, but Wright is careful not to tout his writing as prescient. “I made some lucky guesses, but for the most part, what people are reading as prophecy is just what experts told me would happen,” he said. Expertise, briefing books, scenario exercises – “all of that stuff was on the table. It was there for anybody who was interested, and I was interested.”
As for how he imagines a new normal, “I think we’re at a crossroads,” he said. “War or depression or pandemic gives you a kind of X-ray vision about the society you live in, and you see it for what it is – its shortcomings, its strengths. And I think the shortcomings are plainly apparent: the partisanship, the needless international antagonisms, the lack of preparation, the disrespect for science, all of those things are creating havoc that we shouldn’t have to deal with.”
And while Wright understands people might have pandemic reading fatigue – “There are going to be a lot of people who aren’t emotionally ready to read this book,” he conceded – he hopes people leave the End of October with a “clearer understanding of disease and contagion and the dangers of pandemics, and also be impressed, as I am, by the courage and ingenuity of the people who are fighting disease. That’s why the book is dedicated to them.”
The End of October is out now
tofu, sugar, coffee beans, lentils, spices and more. I also refill my shampoo, washing-up liquid, laundry liquid and toilet cleaner bottles. I also get bottle refills of wine from a local shop.
At first I felt a bit weird taking my own containers, but it forces you to explain what you are doing to people around you. Generally, people are really positive and say: “What a great idea.” I take tubs back to my Indian takeaway to be refilled and now they expect it. Of course, at the moment I wouldn’t ask them to refill my containers because everyone is taking hygiene precautions due to the coronavirus, but I still use the tubs for my regular grocery shopping. My recycling has increased during lockdown because I cannot reuse things as much as I normally would.
One of the biggest lifestyle benefits has been using my local shops more. I used to go to the supermarket and selfcheckout, but I have gained so much by talking to local shop owners and cashiers.
We have also done a lot more cooking, especially making things that we can’t buy without packaging. My husband learned to make chapatis and naan bread, and they taste better than the ones we bought in the shops – and he can make them in minutes. We make our own oat milk, which is so cheap and easy. I will buy a packet of biscuits occasionally because I don’t have the time to make everything.
Sometimes, I would get a bit militant. I would ask friends at parties: “Why did you buy that when it can’t be recycled?” Or I would find some plastic packaging in the house and text my husband saying: “What is this?” I have been called the zero-waste police. But now I am going a bit easier on myself and others.
Overall, these changes have saved us a lot of money, mainly by reducing our consumption. We stopped buying stuff that we don’t really need, but spend a little more on the things that we do buy. We have also eaten more healthily because we have bought less processed food.
I am still putting my waste in a jar to keep it visible. I know that if there is a large bin in the room, people will use it.
Cate Cody, jazz singer and Green councillor, Tewkesbury
We haven’t put our waste bin out for collection for more than three years, not since January 2017. My partner and I have one small metal bin in the kitchen and that’s the only bin in the house. There’s hardly anything in it, just occasional bits of non-recyclable plastic packaging, usually from gifts from wellmeaning people.
We try to bring in as little as possible, only buying what we need and secondhand wherever feasible, which tends to avoid packaging. We reuse, repurpose, recycle and compost.
We get a weekly veg box full of local, seasonal produce. I forage too, for things such as nettles and wild garlic. We grow our own salad, which is very easy and quick to grow. Our rocket sprouts up between paving slabs.We buy other food, such as pasta, rice and pulses, in bulk from an ethical cooperative wholesaler called Suma. We get a delivery every couple of months that we share with five other friends. Our oats come in a 10kg paper sack. The toilet paper comes in biodegradable packaging that goes into the compost, and there’s biodegradable dental floss too.We use loofahs instead of regular sponges for washing up because they are made from a natural material and can be composted afterwards. They are more expensive, but we find they last longer, so the costs are not so different.
Once you start to reduce your waste, you notice the outstanding things still going into the bin and then seek alternatives to them. When you put your mind to it, you can find a solution for nearly everything. One challenge was what to do with an old bike inner tube. I considered a few possibilities and eventually made it into a tool belt.
I hated toothpaste tubes going to landfill, so I started making my own toothpaste by mixing bicarbonate of soda with coconut and peppermint oil. It is very different, but it works. That said, we have now made Tewkesbury town hall into a collection point for recycling toothpaste tubes so that others needn’t end up in the bin.
I never buy wrapping paper. For close friends and family I will use a scarf or a table cloth and they usually give it back afterwards. Recently, I wrapped a friend’s present using recipes from a newspaper tied up with string and explained that the recipes (chosen especially) were part of the present. They loved it.
I happily use a bar of soap instead of shower gel and wouldn’t look back. The gel often slid straight down the plughole anyway. A decent soap lasts much longer.
Instead of kitchen roll, I use old cloth, and rather than makeup wipes, I use a small hankie or a piece of cloth. These can all be washed.
I don’t miss the things that I have given up. It is not about loss, it is about what you gain. I derive real satisfaction from not throwing things away and I have gained skills by learning to make things myself. It is also about owning fewer things; if I want to read a book, I will order it from the library. I might have to wait longer for it, so there is less instant gratification, but it can feel like being a child waiting for Christmas and it is all the more rewarding when it arrives.
As a jazz singer I recycle songs, and in the rest of my life I try to recycle everything else.
Claudi Williams, workshop manager for the Beeswax Wrap Co, Stroud
I was frustrated by the amount of plastic in my life, so in 2016 I decided to try not buying any for a year. It was a steep learning curve for me, my husband and our two sons but, after a few months, our waste went down to almost nothing. It has become our new normal.
It was hard at first because we were used to the convenience of buying stuff at the last minute and we couldn’t do that any more. Now we have a routine, cooking every day and making our own packed lunches.
The first thing we ask ourselves is: “Do we need this?” The second is: “How can I get this unpackaged?” Can we make it ourselves? Can we get it secondhand? Can we borrow it?
Buying unpackaged food tends to make you buy more local, seasonal food, which also reduces your food miles, thereby creating a virtuous circle. We buy food from the farmers’ market and local shops.
When we started, I did a little audit around the house to see how many cleaning products we were using and the result was staggering. We are led to believe that we need a different product for every single thing we clean, but actually you can clean nearly everything effectively with bicarbonate of soda, vinegar, lemons and a simple soap. Now I just use soap and a brush and make my own spraywith vinegar for things such as tiles, mirrors and sinks. The whole journey has been one of simplifying further and further. Bicarb is a great thing to have around – for example, you can sprinkle it into tea-stained cups to remove the stains.
You can make so many things from basic ingredients, and finding new solutions is hugely empowering. For instance, when we needed windscreen wiper liquid for the car, I found a really easy recipe on the internet that cost only a few pence to make. I make my own toothpaste and deodorant, which only takes five minutes. For shampoo, I buy Faith in Nature refills or a bar from Mind the Trash. I use a metal safety razor for shaving. I get toilet paper from a subscription service called Greencane that sends out 48 unpackaged rolls in a cardboard box.
I love herbal teas and was scrambling around for loose tea and then I realised that there were plants in my garden that I could pick fresh and use. You have to switch your brain away from consumption and realise what is in your environment. I dry herbs such as chamomile and peppermint to use in the winter months by tying bunches in a posy and hanging them upside down in a cupboard.
Living like this has really changed me. Ultimately, we simply live with less stuff. I used to pop things into my supermarket trolley on impulse, but now I have a totally different relationship with what I want and need. I feel much more self-reliant and smarter about how I shop. I consider every purchase a vote.
10 easy ways to start reducing your waste
1. Buy less stuff. If you have to buy furniture, clothes or tools and whatever else, try to get it secondhand, or borrow rather than buy.
2. For groceries, choose loose and unpackaged fruit and vegetables. Take your own reusable containers and bags to markets or deli counters to get things such as olives, cheese and bread package-free. Buy milk in returnable glass bottles or make your own plant-based milk.3. Try making things that you find difficult to source unpackaged, such as biscuits, granola, hummus, bread and pizza. Popcorn is easy to make from kernels.
4. See what food you can grow or forage from your surroundings. Salad can be grown in window boxes.
5. Get rid of the plastics in your bathroom by using a bar of soap instead of shower gel, and try shampoo refills or a shampoo bar. You can make your own toothpaste and deodorant or source low-impact alternatives.
6. Reduce your sanitary waste with reusable washable cloth nappies rather than disposables. Use a Mooncup, reusable pads or special period pants instead of single-use tampons or sanitary towels.
7. In the kitchen, try a loofah or coconut scrub for washing up rather than a sponge. They are natural, biodegradable and can be composted after use. Get refills of washing-up liquid and make your own simple cleaning spray for surfaces.
8. Ditch tissues, kitchen towel and makeup wipes and use hankies and washable cloth options instead.
9. Compost and recycle whatever you can and seek out extra local recycling points for items such as crisp packets, toothbrushes, textiles and batteries. Some supermarkets collect types of plastic that can’t be put in household recycling.
10. Repair items before buying new ones. With things that are beyond repair, consider how you might be able to repurpose or reinvent them. For example, you could cut up old clothes to make beeswax wraps for food or fabric bags for collecting loose groceries.
so I’d say that, much like a new Tesla model release or a album drop this is a phased marketing campaign for the miracle of life.
But then again, he once got into a Twitter feud with a hero navy diver, so heated it ended up in court; and her entire pop persona is built around weirdness, so who knows what it really says on the birth certificate.
Where does this sit on the mad celebrity baby name spectrum?If it’s not a code and the kid really is named X AE A-12, I’m going to go ahead and award the name five out of five Moon Units. It’s definitely weirder than Blue Ivy (who also has her name worked into plenty of her mum’s creative output); Apple and Moses; Shiloh and Pax, or even Nicholas Cage’s kid Kal-El. But, more likely, it’s a code for Xai Archangel – something a bit more normal sounding than, say, Kulture Kiari Cephus or Raddix Madden. Perhaps in an alternate timeline they would have gone with Pilot Inspektor, but sadly, it’s already taken.
Whatever next? How does the next famous baby go further? Are we looking at the child of Zayn Malik and Gigi
Hadid being called a series of emojis? Honestly, I think weird celebrity baby names are becoming passe. With all the Daeneryses; Marvels and Teslas running around (seriously, 141 babies were named for Musk’s automotive brand in 2017) – calling your kid Kyd, just doesn’t seem that provocative anymore.