Energetic history of the first years of the space race, focusing on Soviet cosmonaut Yuri Gagarin (1934-1968).
Partly because they were late coming to the atomic bomb, the Soviets were determined not to lose ground in the space race. Consequently, writes popular historian and documentary director Walker, the ministry of defense requisitioned ground “four times the size of Greater London,” at first called Leninsky, where engineers developed the largest rocket in the world. Several rockets had exploded before they got one into space containing two dogs, proof that living things could survive the experience. Soon it was pilot hero Gagarin’s turn. Chosen from a huge group of candidates steadily winnowed down to six—we know this, Walker writes, thanks to a diary a high official in the program surreptitiously kept—Gagarin had strong competition with a fighter pilot named Pavel Popovich, who was ruled out because he was Ukrainian. “Even as the Soviet Union’s propagandists paid lip service to the socialist ideals of ethnic equality,” notes Walker, “Popovich’s origin was a handicap.” Though not the first historian to recount the Soviet Vostok program and its successors, the author does good work in contrasting it in detail with the American astronaut program (John Glenn would orbit the planet less than a year after Gagarin). Of particular interest is Walker’s investigation of the origins of the American determination to be the first to land on the moon, driven by John Kennedy’s bitter recognition of America’s defeat; he asked advisers, “Can we leapfrog them? Is there any place we can catch them? What can we do?” The answer was Apollo, a “distant and uncertain adventure that Kennedy himself had effectively quashed in the latest round of NASA’s budget cuts.” On the human front, Walker’s depiction of Gagarin’s succumbing to the “rock star” syndrome after his orbit, a feat he would never again match, is especially affecting.
A welcome addition to the literature of space exploration, shedding light on the Soviet contribution.