I also like the fact that there's a lot of information throughout the book: the diseases, the symptoms, the methodologies, the Biblical lore. They describe the ProMED system, a electronic network linking doctors, veterinarians, infectious disease specialists, and scientists, which actually exists.

Unfortunately, sometimes the authors revert to jargon or fail to explain terms or items sufficiently. They make a reference to Bergey's Manual, which they might have explained is Bergey's Manual of Determinative Bacteriology. One of the toxins used is yohimbé, which is used to treat sexual dysfunction, though you could only infer that from the text. There's a section on prions, infectious proteins, which assumes that everyone already knows what prions are and their connection to Mad Cow Disease. They never explain why aflatoxins fluoresce under ultraviolet light, or why aflatoxins are so deadly. There's a cryptic reference to the possibility that Ebola may have its origins as a plant virus (perhaps eluding to the fact that researchers have been unable to locate an animal vector, despite years of searching).

In that sense, the story reads like a screenplay. There's no penalty for explaining those kinds of things in a book (as sort of a mental aside) and yet the authors choose not to do so. It wouldn't be so noticeable if they weren't so detail rich in some areas and so sketchy in other places. The best explanations come from Kameron's journal entries, as he lovingly explains each step of his "Grand Design". I'm showing my bias here, as I love books that have lots of detail. I love Tom Clancy's books because he practically overwhelms his readers with detail. But you can choose to ignore details that don't influence your understanding of the plot -- you can't, however, fill in the holes left by the author(s) on your own.

There are a few other things that are a bit distracting. Bryne is given a mysterious past that we don't find out about until later in the book. He has a mysterious scar on his arm that he tells people he got while hang-gliding in the Alps. But in fact, it's a wound he sustained when he was held at Pingfan, a Japanese internment camp, where biowarfare experiments were conducted in World War II. The horrors he saw and experienced as a child there are supposed to be Bryne's motivation in finding and stamping out these lethal diseases. Yet he never talks about that time with anyone, not even his wife. I can understand not wanting to dwell on those horrible memories, but I'm not sure why the authors chose to have him be so reticent about those experiences. It's part of the reason that the FBI thinks that Bryne himself may be responsible for the incidents, which in my mind is stretching things just a bit. It makes for a good story, but even a little investigative work should have cleared Bryne immediately.

There's also a bit of trouble with the dates at the beginning of the book. If you read the book, see if you can spot them as well. Then there's the title itself. There is no eleventh plague -- unless, of course, you count the one in the obvious sequel to this book. In fact there aren't even ten plagues, strictly speaking. Several of the plagues are, in fact, merely poisonings.

These are minor points, however. The Eleventh Plague is a very enjoyable book. It's sure to spark interest in the fascinating, if horrifying, topic of infectious disease and bioterrorism/biowarfare.