Isaac's Storm
by Eric Larson
After reading Devil in White City – and becoming disturbed that such people as the protagonist existed – I resolved to read more books by Eric Larson. I did some research and discovered he wrote Isaac’s Storm about the deadliest hurricane in history that struck Galveston in 1900. There is a particular significance to reading about hurricanes to me – I was born two blocks from the Atlantic Ocean, in North Carolina, and grew up scampering across the white, hot sands and tide pools of the Carolina coast. Hurricanes were a yearly event for us, and exciting. Even when we sought shelter away from our house and there was no electricity, my parents made it seem like a fun camping trip.
And then, I moved to Houston in 1990, and then, in 2009,
Hurricane Ike struck our coast. I wasn't worried, even as I hunkered down in my
third-floor apartment with the winds bowing the windowpanes. I wasn’t worried,
even as the electricity flickered and then plunged everything in darkness. I
wasn’t worried until two days later, when I learned of the devastation and
unknown time frame for receiving basic services again. Despite the lessons from
previous hurricanes, we were all not prepared for Ike, and as the hot, humid
days stretched on, I began to despair of ever watching TV, feeling the cool
winds of the A/C, or talking on the phone again. 10 days ambled by before we
got our electricity back, but I have still yet to recover from those dank, dark
nights and hungry days.
So, reading Isaac’s Storm was good for me; it showed me that
the devastation could be worse. It showed me that we were lucky to at least
know the storm’s power and potential, even if we were not prepared for it. It
showed me the human nuances and impacts Mother Nature wreaks on our vanity.
Isaac Cline was the foremost meteorologist for the US
Weather Bureau stationed in Galveston; back in 1900, with no satellites to
watch over the Earth, weathermen were akin to snake oil salesman. The people of
Galveston had no need to suspect that the 1900 storm was any different than
other storms—but it was. A deadly storm surge quickly overtook over half the
island, burying houses, businesses, and people in a rage of frothing water.
Houses were swept right off their foundations and children, separated from
their mothers, screamed in horror. Larson vividly paints a picture of utter
destruction and chaos; as a mother, it is particularly difficult to read about
the deaths of children. However, Larson also interjects much-needed anecdotes
of heroism and generosity in the time of the storm and thereafter.
Much of the blame, Larson insinuates (or rather practically
outright screams), lies with the Bureau itself, locked in a political battle of
the wills with Cuba. If only there wasn’t a ban on telegraphs or information
from the Cuban meteorologists, he contends, then lives could have been saved,
as the Cubans understood this 1900 storm was different than others. It’s an
important lesson that resonates today, in this time of
maybe-we-Cuba-maybe-we-don’t.
Overall, don’t miss any of Larson’s works, but in particular—don’t
miss this one.
