A man in a cartoon rocket
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Space: The Human Story (Cornerstone) by Tim Peake

Out of the billions of humans on our planet, only 676 have been to space. Being such a select few, it’s easy to see them as superhuman – but in his new book British astronaut Tim Peake shows the real, messy, perfectly imperfect human side of crewed spaceflight.

From the Space Race’s beginnings in the 1950s to our current ambitious plans for visiting Mars, Peake reveals some of the quirky tales, (figuratively) down-to-Earth jokes and day-to-day experiences of astronauts. Although space exploration is an epic task, it’s still done by people at the end of the day. These are people who sneak sandwiches into outer space, as in the contraband corned beef incident of Gemini III, or who hastily write “MAKET” (the Russian word for “dummy”) across the forehead of a mannequin right before launch, in case someone out of the loop becomes gravely concerned for its occupant. They even get close to mutiny as the NASA Skylab 4 crew did in 1973, displeased with their gruelling work schedule in orbit.

Humans “are expensive and create trouble,” as Peake describes us. “They’re messy and temperamental and don’t always do what you want them to do.” Given these natural flaws, why bother? But the book makes a wholly convincing argument for the merits of crewed space exploration, from the practical to the philosophical.

Firstly, we’re actually more efficient than machines at a wide range of tasks, thanks to our excellent problem-solving brains and dextrous hands. As for our brains, we are naturally curious about the exotic experiences of other human beings, especially if we can’t have them ourselves. As Peake says, making an analogy to visiting the Grand Canyon (or any other experience whose grandeur is not readily captured by photos), “If I can’t make that journey, I want to hear about it from someone who has.”

This book delivers on that wish, with detailed accounts of astronaut selection, training and in-flight experiences – as well as the feeling of doing a spacewalk from the International Space Station. Using second person to put you in the action, he describes how you feel “that this entirely hostile environment was specifically designed to exclude you, a humble, fragile human being” and “that the almost overwhelming experience you are having, of floating in the black void and looking down on the Earth, was not one that any human was intended to have.” Yet at the same time the floating feels “tranquil and natural”, almost relaxing as you gaze across the surface of our blue marble in the abyss.

Much of an astronaut’s job, though, isn’t actually above Earth’s atmosphere – it’s here on Earth, going through the extensive selection process and then rigorous training to prepare for their seemingly death-defying feats (such as riding on top of a massive rocket hurtling away from the only safety our bodies have ever known). The process has changed drastically over time, and this book captures that fascinating history, as well as little slices of life that make it possible to ask yourself bizarre questions that are standard for astronauts-in-training: “How would I feel if I had to be put in a human-sized centrifuge, or submerged in a gigantic swimming pool while wearing a bulky spacesuit?”

There is an inherent asymmetry in human spaceflight, well captured by Peake’s writing. To traverse the cosmos, we must put people in situations so seemingly unnatural that it’s incredible our bodies can adapt. Yet people in outer space are still just people – some pilot guy with a family and kids, or a schoolteacher, or (nowadays) a millionaire who wants an adventure. “This was what it all boiled down to in the end,” writes Peake of the first moon landing, “even after the unprecedented feats of rocketry and all the extraordinary technical innovation which had safely flown two astronauts to a destination a quarter of a million miles from home: the basic human act of walking.”

For anyone from history buffs to science-curious readers, this book is a delight. Especially in our current times of upheaval and conflict, it’s a reminder of the things humans can achieve when we work together, and how our human traits are not a burden, but what gives life its richness and joy. The Space Race was never going to be “about machines and what machines did,” says Peake. “It was going to be about humans and what humans did.”

This article is from New Humanist's spring 2024 issue. Subscribe now.