Abstract

In six chapters of uneven length, Peter Lewis Allen, a former literature professor and public policy activist, offers a highly readable romp through two millennia of beliefs and attitudes regarding sin, sex, and disease. In particular, Allen draws on religious, medical, and popular literature from different eras in order to exemplify how particular “diseases”—lovesickness, leprosy, syphilis, bubonic plague, and masturbation—were causally connected with thoughts of punishment for sinful behavior. He then extends this theme into a lengthy chapter describing how the same belief contributed to the chasm between conservative and activist perspectives on AIDS in the United States over the past two decades.Allen, who is admittedly not a historian, picks and chooses a “series of portraits of disease,” offering little contextualization as he creates a “tableau” of perspectives drawn from European and American discourse throughout Christianity. He flavors his chronological narrative with personal experiences drawn from his work in gay health groups. The most significant personal experiences he intersperses stem from thoughts about his one‐time lover, now dead from complications associated with AIDS. He interjects key episodes from this relationship into the book to affirm that “in its fight about how to respond to AIDS,” American society has reenacted a “drama that had been written centuries before” .Allen's engaging writing stands much more firmly as chronologically arranged comparative literature than as historical scholarship. His greatest historiographical faux pas lies in his anachronistic writing about disease. For example, he introduces his chapter on medieval leprosy with a description of the pathological destruction caused by the leprosy bacterium. Then, in selecting situations drawn from Herodotus through the sixteenth‐century “contagionist” Girolamo Fracastoro, he erroneously assumes that “leprosy” implied a singular, consistent disorder throughout this long period. Similar concerns arise regarding his coverage of syphilis. Such errors may have originated from his drawing too exclusively from pre‐1990 historical writings. Works like Charles E. Rosenberg and Janet Golden's Framing Disease: Studies in Cultural History and Linda Merian's edited volume The Secret Malady: Venereal Disease in Eighteenth‐Century Britain and France , and the voluminous literature on the history of the body, would have provided contextual concepts within which to place more concrete views about the intersections between diseases and culture. The author's desire to flash forward from particular historical periods to AIDS in our society too often leads to weakly substantiated connections between time periods.Allen's strengths lie in his ability to draw on works of literature, especially popular literature. His particular emphasis on French works reflects his own background in medieval French literature. His arguments are also strong when comparing church and society in the medieval period. For example, his chapter on lovesickness clearly delineates the persistent position of the Church Fathers against medics who regularly prescribed a “coital cure” for the disorder, without specifying what partners to select, instead of welcoming disease as a divine corrective.Allen's writing on plague, the shortest chapter of the book, clearly depicts the once‐common view that this epidemic disaster was inflicted by God as a punishment for mankind's sinful nature. However, the omission of any discussion of sex in a chapter of a work subtitled “Sex and Disease, Past and Present,” is somewhat puzzling. Even more conspicuous is the author's failure to expand upon the 1530 poem regarding the plight of the impious shepherd, Syphilis, from whom the disease in question received its name. Why would a literary scholar prone to draw on popular writings not give more than a single‐sentence mention to this historically relevant poem?Of the works Allen has drawn upon, he offers a pleasant mix of primary and secondary accounts that, like all good literary criticism, gives original sources a clear voice. Any work so selectively focused on a few diseases will leave some readers wondering about others that might have been perceived in terms of sex and sin. Were such associations discussed in regard to madness in the eighteenth century, tuberculosis in the nineteenth century, or the wide range of twentieth‐century STDs prior to AIDS? Why was no mention made of leprosy in the twentieth‐century context? Its AIDS‐like stigma has been historically contextualized in several works, including Stephanie J. Castillo's award‐winning 1992 documentary Simple Courage. Similarly, one wonders why the author chose not to drawn on standard medical history accounts on AIDS, including Elizabeth Fee and Daniel M. Fox's edited volume AIDS: The Burden of History and, perhaps more important for the Francophile Allen, Mirko D. Grmek's Histoire du SIDA: Début et origine d'une pandémie actualle .Apart from my historiographical criticisms, The Wages of Sin is a most delightful popular rendering of key relations between disease and Christianity. Works like this are extremely useful in reminding the reading public in an articulate, informative, and entertaining manner that they are part of humanity's continuum that has long sought connections between physical health and moral living. Indeed, Allen's apt description of the underlying usefulness of history underscores the importance of his own writing: “We value history because, whatever its distortions and inaccuracies, it is a way of understanding and giving value to our collective human experience and collective human memory”