by David Kordahl
Accusatory reevaluations of the COVID-19 era are underway. Anthony Fauci’s new memoir addresses the accusations—or does it?
Oversight and Accountability
Some six weeks ago, Dr. Anthony Fauci appeared before the Committee on Oversight and Accountability, an investigative panel of the U.S. House of Representatives. I watched the first hour (the full session lasted roughly three-and-a half), but that was enough to get the gist. Republicans portrayed Fauci as the malevolent demiurge of the COVID-19 pandemic, with his suggestions leading to mask mandates, school closures, forced vaccinations, and possibly even the virus itself. Democrats, conversely, lamented these attempts to smear Fauci, painting them as Big Lies beginning in and persisting from the Trump era, and apologized to Fauci for the attacks on his professionalism.
Since then, an assassination attempt on Donald Trump and the candidacy withdrawal of President Biden have shifted the political focus in American politics away from Dr. Fauci. But for better or worse, I’ve stayed fixated. When I saw Anthony Fauci’s memoir, On Call: A Doctor’s Journey in Public Service, on the NEW BOOKS shelf at my local library, I knew that I would review it here.
I read On Call while I was on a long car trip with my wife and kids, during family vacation. And while I didn’t start the book any strong feelings about Fauci, I should admit a few preconceptions. For one thing, I’m instinctively suspicious of doctors. When I had appendicitis, I refused to go in until my appendix had fully burst. Also, I’m usually drawn to memoirs by people who are basically unreliable. The other memoir I read this summer—Glenn Loury’s Late Admissions: Confessions of a Black Conservative—contrasted Loury’s sexual and chemical adventuring with his “cover story” as a moral crusader.
On Call was not written for me. It’s for Fauci’s preexisting admirers, and is the opposite of a confession—more like an unapologetic self-defense. The book eventually gives readers what they want (in “Part Five: COVID”), but after 300+ pages detailing Fauci’s demonstrable successes, this part ultimately seems embarrassing, an unsatisfying conclusion to a triumphant career.
The chapters of On Call are each just a few pages, and they go by quickly. I got both the hardback and the audiobook, and alternated between them, sometimes reading, sometimes listening as I watched the red vistas scan by, the vastness of Fauci’s story complementing the vast southwestern landscapes outside. But like any visitor in unknown territory, I tried to keep alert for any unexpected movements—signs that this narrator was unreliable after all. Read more »
Barring that reality, and knowing this would be an ongoing, lifelong issue, I got a tattoo on my Visa-paying forearm to remind myself that my actions affect the entire world. I borrowed Matisse’s 
A dear friend of mine recently passed away unexpectedly. He had recommended I read Viktor Frankl’s 
The season finale of 
This week I had planned to present the 3 Quarks Daily readership with a fluffy little piece about my memories of a grade school foreign language teacher. It was poignant, it was heartfelt, it was funny (if I do say so myself). Above all, it was intended as a brief respite from the nonstop parade of horrors scrolling past our screens every day—a parade in which my own recent writings have occupied a lavishly decorated float. We all deserve a break, I thought. It would be nice to look at some baton twirlers for a minute, listen to an oompa band.
Two profound horrors have plagued the world in recent times: the Covid-19 pandemic and the Trump presidency. And after years of dread, their recent decline has brought me a brief respite of peace.
