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This New Ocean: The Story of the First Space Age (Modern Library Paperbacks) by William E. Burrows
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First published January 1, 1998
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April 27, 2016
Here’s an admission: I’ve never been interested in Space. I know – crazy, right? Who isn’t interested, at least on some level, in the vast secrets of the universe? To lack interest is almost an act of hubris, a willful ignorance of the fact that we – Earth and all its individuals – are very small things indeed.
I’m not quite sure why astronauts and aliens didn't perk my childish curiosity. Maybe it’s because I hated math as a kid, and just about everything regarding Space and Space exploration involves complicated numbers. Or it might just be that I found the Civil War so awesome I didn't need anything more. It’s probably a combination of the two. (Certainly, it wasn’t my busy social life).
Last month, I watched a multipart documentary on the 1980s, a decade dear to my own heart. (Oh, to come of age in the Time of Zubaz and Slap Bracelets). Included in one of the segments was the 1986 Challenger disaster, which killed all seven crew members. For a fleeting moment – reliving that horror that I vaguely remember from the nightly news – I desperately wanted to learn something about Space exploration. About the men and women who looked heavenward, who dared all and gave all.
And it turns out that I had William Burrows’ This New Ocean on my bookshelf, where it had sat unread for the past thirteen years.
This New Ocean states its humble mission as the “Story of the First Space Age.” That Age runs from Daedalus to the date of the book’s publication in 1998.
Cramming the entire history of Space exploration between two covers is certainly ambitious (the book is actually a manageable 646 pages of text). And I always applaud ambition. So, here, I give my due respects to Burrows' vision.
Unfortunately, ambition is just about all This New Ocean has going for it. Indeed, the book’s ambition, its scope, its odd checklist approach to history, contributes to a volume that is ultimately inert and unforgivably free of wonder.
Burrows begins with an agonizingly slow recounting of the history of rocketry. These early sections are a dress rehearsal for all the structural, editorial, and literary problems that plague This New Ocean. For one, there is no technical grounding or context. I’m not a rocket scientist. I don’t want to be a rocket scientist (because of the math, you know). But in a discussion of rockets, I think it’s appropriate to explain how one works; how various rockets are different from each other; and to define the essential terms (solid verses liquid propellant; single verses multi stage) that will be used throughout the book. Burrows utterly neglects to do this.
He is also all over the place, jumping from the theorists of antiquity to the reclusive, secretive Robert Goddard, to the Nazi chameleon Werner von Braun, whose intellect allowed him to escape his sins and make a tidy little life for himself. Dozens of scientists scattered around the globe are introduced. None of them – not even von Braun – are given a personality. Burrows provides their names and a thin bio and that’s it. It is never clear who accomplished what.
Furthermore, in devoting so much time to rocketry, Burrows completely neglects the other necessary prong of Space exploration: aviation. He never explains why he focuses on one or the other, so the reader is left to ponder why there is barely a reference to the Wright Brothers or Chuck Yeager.
Despite my hopes, This New Ocean never gets better, even as Man heads towards the Moon. To the contrary, the lack of narrative control becomes ever more frustrating. This is a book in desperate need of sharper editing (or, at the very least, a timeline). Burrows is constantly jumping forward and backward, so you’re never quite sure where you are chronologically. This wouldn’t be a problem if he had better storytelling capabilities, if he had created memorable personalities, if he had given us a lodestar. Instead, there is a complete lack of contextualization.
For instance, he never takes the time for even a cursory explanation of the American Space Program. Don’t get me wrong, he mentions Project Mercury, Project Gemini, and Project Apollo (though he mostly ignores the X-15). But he never lays out what each project was meant to accomplish, or even their sequential order. He just drops their names like he’s a Hollywood producer at a cocktail party. (As I recall, Burrows dispenses with the creation of NASA in something like a single sentence).
In a work of scope, depth is necessarily sacrificed. It is inevitable that lasting moments, both good and bad, receive less attention than they merit. I wanted longer discussions on Apollo 1, Apollo 8, Apollo 13, STS-1, and the Challenger. I can accept that that’s not always possible. What I can’t accept, however, is the amount of space (pun totally intended) devoted to extraneous terrestrial details.
I’m talking about the budget discussions.
Oh, the budget discussions.
Pages and pages filled with quotes and analysis of the government’s on-again, off-again affair with launching things into Space. The thing is, not even the budget discussions are done right. They aren’t detailed or placed into any kind of political-social-economic paradigm. There is no analysis of the costs-benefits of manned verses unmanned space flights. No answer to the philosophical and pragmatic questions of why we need to travel upward and outward. There is no well-thought argument as to why NASA should exist. (I can think of one reason: Tang!).
Burrows is clearly a passionate Space lover. I respect him for that. But his descriptions of the various budget morasses (especially once we reached the Moon) come across as whiny more than anything else. (Spoiler alert: NASA’s budget is always getting slashed. Burrows doesn’t like that).
A lot of shortcomings can be forgiven if something else is done really well. Upon reading the first page, I hoped this book’s great virtue would be its prose. Again, disappointment. There are no memorable passages, no deftly drawn personalities, no glorious descriptions of the beautiful infinity. With few exceptions, Burrows’ passion for his subject remains hidden.
There are certain joys to be had. For one, the book is thoroughly researched and comes with a bulging bibliography. For another, Burrows does a very credible job exploring the Russian side of the Space Race. Their travails are some of the more memorable in the book. After all, who can forget the image of Laika, the pointy-nosed mongrel who died in an attempt to orbit Earth? (Burrows reports that Laika actually orbited Earth and was euthanized by the Soviets. Apparently, documents released after this book’s publication showed that Laika actually died from overheating hours after the launch of Sputnik 2). At the very least, I came across dozens of topics for further exploration.
This New Ocean is too much a mess to provide a coherent argument for or against Space exploration. My own opinion is that manned space flight is a luxury, an adventure that is worth taking when times are good and coffers are flush. It is the kind of voyaging that makes us human and does wonders for the soul. But it certainly isn’t necessary. (Of course, many of its byproducts – scratch-resistant lenses, memory foam, Tang!! – are greatly appreciated).
As for unmanned space flights, my favorite part of This New Ocean was its treatment of the Voyager program. Voyager consisted of two probes launched in 1977 to study Jupiter and Saturn. Burrows recounts the launch, and periodically checks in on the probes as they continued into the outer Solar System.
I became strangely fond of Voyager 1, anthropomorphizing it to an extent unusual for a man over thirty years old. In a book that is – for the most part – dramatically flat, the Voyagers gripped my imagination.
People used to look skyward to see the weather and to imagine their gods. At night they could see beyond the sky and wonder at the stars. Now we know that out there are worlds upon worlds upon worlds. A universe of the possible. Space exploration often flies in the face of theology, removing Earth and her good citizens from the center of all things. But there is something unbelievably profound - even religious - in the image of our little Voyager probe on its one-way mission.
It has been pinging back information for thirty-six years, alone in space and darkness that can be measured but not grasped. And maybe it will keep on traveling forever, even after its signal disappears, lost to humans and lost to time but still there, still in existence.
I’m not quite sure why astronauts and aliens didn't perk my childish curiosity. Maybe it’s because I hated math as a kid, and just about everything regarding Space and Space exploration involves complicated numbers. Or it might just be that I found the Civil War so awesome I didn't need anything more. It’s probably a combination of the two. (Certainly, it wasn’t my busy social life).
Last month, I watched a multipart documentary on the 1980s, a decade dear to my own heart. (Oh, to come of age in the Time of Zubaz and Slap Bracelets). Included in one of the segments was the 1986 Challenger disaster, which killed all seven crew members. For a fleeting moment – reliving that horror that I vaguely remember from the nightly news – I desperately wanted to learn something about Space exploration. About the men and women who looked heavenward, who dared all and gave all.
And it turns out that I had William Burrows’ This New Ocean on my bookshelf, where it had sat unread for the past thirteen years.
This New Ocean states its humble mission as the “Story of the First Space Age.” That Age runs from Daedalus to the date of the book’s publication in 1998.
Cramming the entire history of Space exploration between two covers is certainly ambitious (the book is actually a manageable 646 pages of text). And I always applaud ambition. So, here, I give my due respects to Burrows' vision.
Unfortunately, ambition is just about all This New Ocean has going for it. Indeed, the book’s ambition, its scope, its odd checklist approach to history, contributes to a volume that is ultimately inert and unforgivably free of wonder.
Burrows begins with an agonizingly slow recounting of the history of rocketry. These early sections are a dress rehearsal for all the structural, editorial, and literary problems that plague This New Ocean. For one, there is no technical grounding or context. I’m not a rocket scientist. I don’t want to be a rocket scientist (because of the math, you know). But in a discussion of rockets, I think it’s appropriate to explain how one works; how various rockets are different from each other; and to define the essential terms (solid verses liquid propellant; single verses multi stage) that will be used throughout the book. Burrows utterly neglects to do this.
He is also all over the place, jumping from the theorists of antiquity to the reclusive, secretive Robert Goddard, to the Nazi chameleon Werner von Braun, whose intellect allowed him to escape his sins and make a tidy little life for himself. Dozens of scientists scattered around the globe are introduced. None of them – not even von Braun – are given a personality. Burrows provides their names and a thin bio and that’s it. It is never clear who accomplished what.
Furthermore, in devoting so much time to rocketry, Burrows completely neglects the other necessary prong of Space exploration: aviation. He never explains why he focuses on one or the other, so the reader is left to ponder why there is barely a reference to the Wright Brothers or Chuck Yeager.
Despite my hopes, This New Ocean never gets better, even as Man heads towards the Moon. To the contrary, the lack of narrative control becomes ever more frustrating. This is a book in desperate need of sharper editing (or, at the very least, a timeline). Burrows is constantly jumping forward and backward, so you’re never quite sure where you are chronologically. This wouldn’t be a problem if he had better storytelling capabilities, if he had created memorable personalities, if he had given us a lodestar. Instead, there is a complete lack of contextualization.
For instance, he never takes the time for even a cursory explanation of the American Space Program. Don’t get me wrong, he mentions Project Mercury, Project Gemini, and Project Apollo (though he mostly ignores the X-15). But he never lays out what each project was meant to accomplish, or even their sequential order. He just drops their names like he’s a Hollywood producer at a cocktail party. (As I recall, Burrows dispenses with the creation of NASA in something like a single sentence).
In a work of scope, depth is necessarily sacrificed. It is inevitable that lasting moments, both good and bad, receive less attention than they merit. I wanted longer discussions on Apollo 1, Apollo 8, Apollo 13, STS-1, and the Challenger. I can accept that that’s not always possible. What I can’t accept, however, is the amount of space (pun totally intended) devoted to extraneous terrestrial details.
I’m talking about the budget discussions.
Oh, the budget discussions.
Pages and pages filled with quotes and analysis of the government’s on-again, off-again affair with launching things into Space. The thing is, not even the budget discussions are done right. They aren’t detailed or placed into any kind of political-social-economic paradigm. There is no analysis of the costs-benefits of manned verses unmanned space flights. No answer to the philosophical and pragmatic questions of why we need to travel upward and outward. There is no well-thought argument as to why NASA should exist. (I can think of one reason: Tang!).
Burrows is clearly a passionate Space lover. I respect him for that. But his descriptions of the various budget morasses (especially once we reached the Moon) come across as whiny more than anything else. (Spoiler alert: NASA’s budget is always getting slashed. Burrows doesn’t like that).
A lot of shortcomings can be forgiven if something else is done really well. Upon reading the first page, I hoped this book’s great virtue would be its prose. Again, disappointment. There are no memorable passages, no deftly drawn personalities, no glorious descriptions of the beautiful infinity. With few exceptions, Burrows’ passion for his subject remains hidden.
There are certain joys to be had. For one, the book is thoroughly researched and comes with a bulging bibliography. For another, Burrows does a very credible job exploring the Russian side of the Space Race. Their travails are some of the more memorable in the book. After all, who can forget the image of Laika, the pointy-nosed mongrel who died in an attempt to orbit Earth? (Burrows reports that Laika actually orbited Earth and was euthanized by the Soviets. Apparently, documents released after this book’s publication showed that Laika actually died from overheating hours after the launch of Sputnik 2). At the very least, I came across dozens of topics for further exploration.
This New Ocean is too much a mess to provide a coherent argument for or against Space exploration. My own opinion is that manned space flight is a luxury, an adventure that is worth taking when times are good and coffers are flush. It is the kind of voyaging that makes us human and does wonders for the soul. But it certainly isn’t necessary. (Of course, many of its byproducts – scratch-resistant lenses, memory foam, Tang!! – are greatly appreciated).
As for unmanned space flights, my favorite part of This New Ocean was its treatment of the Voyager program. Voyager consisted of two probes launched in 1977 to study Jupiter and Saturn. Burrows recounts the launch, and periodically checks in on the probes as they continued into the outer Solar System.
I became strangely fond of Voyager 1, anthropomorphizing it to an extent unusual for a man over thirty years old. In a book that is – for the most part – dramatically flat, the Voyagers gripped my imagination.
People used to look skyward to see the weather and to imagine their gods. At night they could see beyond the sky and wonder at the stars. Now we know that out there are worlds upon worlds upon worlds. A universe of the possible. Space exploration often flies in the face of theology, removing Earth and her good citizens from the center of all things. But there is something unbelievably profound - even religious - in the image of our little Voyager probe on its one-way mission.
It has been pinging back information for thirty-six years, alone in space and darkness that can be measured but not grasped. And maybe it will keep on traveling forever, even after its signal disappears, lost to humans and lost to time but still there, still in existence.
August 20, 2009
Space geek history porn. Especially good (and rare!) coverage of the Russians.
October 27, 2017
I thought this would be a great book about the first age of space travel. However, try as hard as I might, I just couldn't wrap my head around the way the information was presented. I'm sure there are other books out there about the first age of space travel that are much better. I would not bother with this one.
October 24, 2012
I wanted to read a few books on space exploration, and decided to first re-read this one-volume history of the space age. The ultimate weapon of the Cold War was the hydrogen bomb atop the ICBM. Half of it grew out of the American atomic bomb; half out of the German ballistic missile. The latter was styled one of the "vengeance weapons" that would turn the tide of World War II in Germany's favor; it didn't, and killed only about 5,000 Britons and others it hit, and about 10,000 concentration camp inmates who manufactured it. After the war, both the Americans and the Soviets were eager to get their hands on the weapon of the future. The underground factory that produced it was in the agreed-upon Soviet zone of occupation, but the Americans got there first, and wasted no time grabbing missile components and shipping them to the United States. Much less was left for the Soviet rocket scientists, but enough to make their mouths open. The top designers, headed by Dr. Wernher "I aim for the stars but sometimes I hit London" von Braun, surrendered to the Americans. As one engineer put it, "We despise the French; we are mortally afraid of the Soviets; we do not believe the British can afford us; so that leaves the Americans." The Soviets actually hired more German rocketeers, though not the top talent, squeezed all the knowledge from them and returned them home; the Americans allowed their Germans to stay for decades; one became the project director for the Saturn V rocket, the most powerful operational rocket ever built, after which it was "discovered" that he had a Nazi past; he was stripped of his US citizenship and deported to his native Germany.
Boosted by the Germans, both the Americans and the Soviets developed ever bigger missiles; the Soviet R-7 was the first that could fly across continents. It was used to launch the first artificial earth satellite, called Sputnik 1, in 1957, upstaging the Americans yet doing them an unexpected service. When an American U-2 spy plane overflew the Soviet Union, the Soviets were understandably furious at the Americans for violating their nation's airspace; yet they made their satellite overfly many countries without asking for their permission. Therefore, national sovereignty did not extend into space, and it was legal to launch a satellite that would photograph the terrain below, revealing the bombers, the submarines and the missile silos. As Burrows describes in greater detail in his book Deep Black, the United States took great advantage of it in the coming years. As President Lyndon Johnson put it in 1967, "we've spent thirty-five or forty billion dollars on the space program. And if nothing else had come out of it except the knowledge we've gained from space photography, it would be worth ten times what the whole program has cost."
In 1960, Presidential candidate John F. Kennedy said, "We are in a strategic space race with the Russians, and we have been losing. The first man-made satellite to orbit the earth was named Sputnik. The first living creature in space was Laika. The first rocket to the Moon carried a red flag. The first photograph of the far side of the Moon was made with a Soviet camera. If a man orbits Earth this year his name will be Ivan." It was actually the next year, and the man's name was Yury Gagarin, but Kennedy had a point. So the United States decided to upstage the Soviets and put a man on the Moon. It was magnificent madness, possibly one of the greatest technological achievements of humanity done for no purpose other than American national prestige. It was not even a triumph of free enterprise: what was free about the government taking up to 0.7% of the GDP and giving it to contractors who were building rockets and spaceships? The Soviet moon program failed, and after putting several men on the Moon, the American one wound down. There was still the Space Shuttle, which was far more expensive and unreliable than older non-reusable space vehicles; other than launching satellites in a very expensive manner and resupplying space stations that were doing questionable research, it flew a Saudi prince as a favor to his nation, like the Soviets flew a Cuban and an East German cosmonaut as a favor to theirs.
At the same time, on lesser budgets than the high-profile manned missions, robotic spacecraft have been exploring the Solar System. Almost all we know about the other planets has come from these robots. Mariner 4 showed that there is no water on the surface of Mars; Viking that there are no organic compounds in Martian soil. An early Soviet Venus probe was designed to float in that planet's oceans, like in a Ray Bradbury story; we now know that the temperature of the planet's surface is 500 degrees centigrade. The Pioneers and the Voyagers explored Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune and their moons. This was arguably a greater achievement than putting astronauts on the Moon.
Boosted by the Germans, both the Americans and the Soviets developed ever bigger missiles; the Soviet R-7 was the first that could fly across continents. It was used to launch the first artificial earth satellite, called Sputnik 1, in 1957, upstaging the Americans yet doing them an unexpected service. When an American U-2 spy plane overflew the Soviet Union, the Soviets were understandably furious at the Americans for violating their nation's airspace; yet they made their satellite overfly many countries without asking for their permission. Therefore, national sovereignty did not extend into space, and it was legal to launch a satellite that would photograph the terrain below, revealing the bombers, the submarines and the missile silos. As Burrows describes in greater detail in his book Deep Black, the United States took great advantage of it in the coming years. As President Lyndon Johnson put it in 1967, "we've spent thirty-five or forty billion dollars on the space program. And if nothing else had come out of it except the knowledge we've gained from space photography, it would be worth ten times what the whole program has cost."
In 1960, Presidential candidate John F. Kennedy said, "We are in a strategic space race with the Russians, and we have been losing. The first man-made satellite to orbit the earth was named Sputnik. The first living creature in space was Laika. The first rocket to the Moon carried a red flag. The first photograph of the far side of the Moon was made with a Soviet camera. If a man orbits Earth this year his name will be Ivan." It was actually the next year, and the man's name was Yury Gagarin, but Kennedy had a point. So the United States decided to upstage the Soviets and put a man on the Moon. It was magnificent madness, possibly one of the greatest technological achievements of humanity done for no purpose other than American national prestige. It was not even a triumph of free enterprise: what was free about the government taking up to 0.7% of the GDP and giving it to contractors who were building rockets and spaceships? The Soviet moon program failed, and after putting several men on the Moon, the American one wound down. There was still the Space Shuttle, which was far more expensive and unreliable than older non-reusable space vehicles; other than launching satellites in a very expensive manner and resupplying space stations that were doing questionable research, it flew a Saudi prince as a favor to his nation, like the Soviets flew a Cuban and an East German cosmonaut as a favor to theirs.
At the same time, on lesser budgets than the high-profile manned missions, robotic spacecraft have been exploring the Solar System. Almost all we know about the other planets has come from these robots. Mariner 4 showed that there is no water on the surface of Mars; Viking that there are no organic compounds in Martian soil. An early Soviet Venus probe was designed to float in that planet's oceans, like in a Ray Bradbury story; we now know that the temperature of the planet's surface is 500 degrees centigrade. The Pioneers and the Voyagers explored Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune and their moons. This was arguably a greater achievement than putting astronauts on the Moon.
March 11, 2008
Here is a sweeping historical account of humankind’s first race to leave the planet earth. While most "Apollo era" histories focus on the American experience, this book provides a parallel account of the Soviet Union's space program. (This chronicle is perhaps the best history of the USSR's space program I've read.) The resulting ebb and flow of the 'race' between the nations is captivating.
There are a numerous of facets to this story. Author William Burrows covers them all. The most prominent is the role of the military. Once convinced that a tool of warfare (the Missile) could be used to launch manmade satellites into space, the race was on. Militarism (disguised as Nationalism) and raw ego drove the competition. And the results were unprecedented in human history.
Burrows writes about the tragedies and triumphs in moving detail. These are often welcome respites from the avalanche of technical and historical detail that frequently bog down the narrative. (Those tedious passages are why I gave the book only three stars.)
William Burrows is one of the few writers to recognize and document the decline and, let's be honest, fall of the space faring nations' programs. Once the military lost interest, funding dried up and technical advancement ceased.
Unmanned deep space satellites and telescopes would contribute to humanity's knowledge of the worlds beyond our own. But human space travel receded. Redundant flights to space stations (SkyLab, Mir and the ISS) barely beyond the Earth's atmosphere were fatally unimaginative.
NASA transitioned from an aviator, engineer and scientist program to a manager and consultant program. As documented in this book, the 1986 Challenger disaster was inevitable. (The book doesn't cover the similar Columbia tragedy in 2002. But if you read this book you'll understand why it happened too.)
In spite of the disappointing "end" of the space race, Burrows remains optimistic. He presents this period in human space exploration as the foundation for future generations to build upon. One can only hope he's right.
There are a numerous of facets to this story. Author William Burrows covers them all. The most prominent is the role of the military. Once convinced that a tool of warfare (the Missile) could be used to launch manmade satellites into space, the race was on. Militarism (disguised as Nationalism) and raw ego drove the competition. And the results were unprecedented in human history.
Burrows writes about the tragedies and triumphs in moving detail. These are often welcome respites from the avalanche of technical and historical detail that frequently bog down the narrative. (Those tedious passages are why I gave the book only three stars.)
William Burrows is one of the few writers to recognize and document the decline and, let's be honest, fall of the space faring nations' programs. Once the military lost interest, funding dried up and technical advancement ceased.
Unmanned deep space satellites and telescopes would contribute to humanity's knowledge of the worlds beyond our own. But human space travel receded. Redundant flights to space stations (SkyLab, Mir and the ISS) barely beyond the Earth's atmosphere were fatally unimaginative.
NASA transitioned from an aviator, engineer and scientist program to a manager and consultant program. As documented in this book, the 1986 Challenger disaster was inevitable. (The book doesn't cover the similar Columbia tragedy in 2002. But if you read this book you'll understand why it happened too.)
In spite of the disappointing "end" of the space race, Burrows remains optimistic. He presents this period in human space exploration as the foundation for future generations to build upon. One can only hope he's right.
May 7, 2015
Fascinating look into all aspects of spaceflight. Incredible to realize that someone like Werner VonBraun went from launching rockets he could carry on his shoulder to launching the might (and still unsurpassed) Saturn V. Fascinating back story as to how to epic US Voyager mission (Which reached all the way to Neptune) was nearly derailed except for the guile of scientists at JPL and elsewhere.
The book spends surprisingly little time on what is arguably the greatest achievement in human history, the moon landing, but goes much deeper into space based reconnaissance and political backstories than any space book I've read before.
I picked this up for 5 dollars at a used book store, and it was clear I was the first person to crack the spine on this copy. A real prize and a great read.
The book spends surprisingly little time on what is arguably the greatest achievement in human history, the moon landing, but goes much deeper into space based reconnaissance and political backstories than any space book I've read before.
I picked this up for 5 dollars at a used book store, and it was clear I was the first person to crack the spine on this copy. A real prize and a great read.
December 31, 2020
Overall, quite disappointing. This book is grand in scope - the politics, engineering and science behind the space programs of two super powers. And unfortunately, it cannot deliver on all three of those. The focus is mostly on the politics, which is interesting, but there isn't enough in depth discussion of the science or engineering.
December 6, 2015
I really wanted to like this book. I've always been very interested in space exploration and wanted to know more about the history of the space program. It seemed very comprehensive, as other reviewers have noted. However, it's simply too "pop" nonfiction to hold my interest. The writing style is cheesy and it focuses way too much on imagining the exhilaration, for example, of Yuri Gagarin on his first flight. In other words, a lot of description of emotions and thoughts that we couldn't possibly know, and less simply on the facts of what happened. This might be engaging for some people but for me, it made the book wordy, boring, and less than believable. I had a hard time taking it seriously and it could be a lot shorter if this speculation was taken out (and this more manageable to read). Again, this is what some are looking for, so YMMV, but it wasn't the right book for me. I am disappointed.
September 11, 2016
I was hoping for the space program equivalent of Richard Rhodes's The Making of the Atomic Bomb. Instead it ended up being more like Rhodes's The Dark Sun, in that there was a lot less science and a lot more descriptions of political machinations. In retrospect given the scope of the topic I should not expected more technical detail about any particular rocket or probe, but the Washington insider-y sections were definitely boring.
October 26, 2018
I rarely give a book five stars, but this one deserves nothing less. If you want a phenomenal account of the entire space age, this is your book. Burrows begins with the ancient story of Daedalus and Icarus and finishes with Pathfinder’s landing on Mars. While he does not go into extreme detail on any singular event, he presents a survey spanning hundreds of years. There is a good reason that this book was a finalist for the Pulitzer in history: Burrows comes across neither as a champion of the space program nor a government budget troll. He takes a completely impartial view of the entire venture, and spells out why exactly America did what we did in the 1960s. Hint: It was not because President Kennedy was science-minded or had some great desire to go to the Moon. Spoiler alert: the entire space program from the mid-1950s until the late 1980s was a product of the Cold War. After the USSR crumbled, so did the budget for spaceflight, and here we are today still riding Russian rockets to the ISS. I’m interested in what Burrows might say regarding the current status of NASA, other than history predicted this exact situation as early as the mid-1980s. Burrows also tackles the thorny issues of Apollo 1 and Challenger, aptly placing blame exactly where it belongs. Much of the second half of the book describes the exploration of the outer planets by Pioneer, Voyager, Mariner, Magellan, Cassini, and others. This is a part of the space age that has been largely ignored by the general public but is important all the same. For any space geek, this is a must read. Some of the book goes a little slower than other parts, but Burrows does not miss a detail. Great book!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 21, 2021
Continuing reading my science books in alphabetical order by author. Last of the B’s. This new ocean sat on my shelf for well over a decade. Maybe two. I didn’t miss much.
It reads like a history book for rocketry. Cool, right? Yes, but…there is nothing inspiring found here. Any book about space exploration should be inspiring. This was full of history, policitcs, and project management facts. At 600+ pages, it is difficult to get through. There are some parts were it talks about science and humanity which starts to get really interesting, but they are few and far between.
It reads like a history book for rocketry. Cool, right? Yes, but…there is nothing inspiring found here. Any book about space exploration should be inspiring. This was full of history, policitcs, and project management facts. At 600+ pages, it is difficult to get through. There are some parts were it talks about science and humanity which starts to get really interesting, but they are few and far between.
September 11, 2019
This book is exactly what I was looking for: a thorough history of the space program that was both packed with information and skillfully written. It was published over twenty years ago, so I wish that there was an update covering the recent developments in space, but this book spans from humankind's first inklings of traveling to the stars to the time it was written in the late '90s, so there is plenty here to satisfy the amateur space buff, like me.
February 28, 2021
I loved this book! A do like space but not a total space nerd. This provided such an interesting look at the history of the race to space. Maybe it's obvious, but I never linked the space program so strongly to military security and weaponry before. And I really enjoyed reading so much details about the Russian program - we hear of them as the opponent but didn't know much about their program or cosmonauts - who were also heroes, not enemies.
January 28, 2020
Burrows details the events and players in "the first Space Age" in a way that is revealing and of interest to anyone with an interest in astronautics. A helpful and engaging read.
September 10, 2022
Too long and detailed for me. I would've enjoyed it more if it had been 200 pages instead of 600. That's why it took me years to finish 😂.
August 14, 2023
Amazing read, I love space
February 20, 2025
Great info, but wow this was a slog to get through.
August 17, 2013
It took quite a while, but I finally finished This New Ocean. While not perfect, it was an enjoyable read. The book covers the period from the beginning of rocketry through its date of publication (1999). Its major and significant strengths are that it includes a very good treatment of international efforts in space, not just U.S., and especially in the early years; and that it covers not just civil but defense and security space. These domains are not often found under one cover.
Structurally, This New Ocean spends about 1/3 "pre-Apollo", 1/3 covering the sixties, and 1/3 for everything thereafter. This is perhaps its greatest weakness: readers motivated enough to tackle a 600+ tome on the history of spaceflight have likely already read the Apollo-era story many times elsewhere; I found "the middle bit" the hardest to sustain interest through. Burrows redeems himself by giving an exceptionally enjoyable and thorough treatment of robotic scientific missions in the 70s and beyond, especially planetary.
As with many survey histories, TNO suffers a little by accelerating its pace and struggling to find coherent narratives around the decades leading up to its date of publication. Much of the 80s are spent discussing and criticizing SDI (no question where Burrows lands here); Challenger is covered but the subsequent evolution of EELVs is skimmed, and SEI, single stage to orbit / reusable launch vehicle initiatives barely mentioned ... the narrative switches almost exclusively to space station and robotic science for the nineties, capped by an excursion into the first wave of breathless / heady "commercial" space mania of the late nineties. All interesting, but gapped and a little disorganized, but then, so were the 90s as far as spaceflight was concerned.
Overall, I'd recommend this read, but ended up wishing Burrows had had the last 15 years under his belt to include as well. A good survey of spaceflight from the timeframe of about 1990-now has, I think, yet to be written.
Structurally, This New Ocean spends about 1/3 "pre-Apollo", 1/3 covering the sixties, and 1/3 for everything thereafter. This is perhaps its greatest weakness: readers motivated enough to tackle a 600+ tome on the history of spaceflight have likely already read the Apollo-era story many times elsewhere; I found "the middle bit" the hardest to sustain interest through. Burrows redeems himself by giving an exceptionally enjoyable and thorough treatment of robotic scientific missions in the 70s and beyond, especially planetary.
As with many survey histories, TNO suffers a little by accelerating its pace and struggling to find coherent narratives around the decades leading up to its date of publication. Much of the 80s are spent discussing and criticizing SDI (no question where Burrows lands here); Challenger is covered but the subsequent evolution of EELVs is skimmed, and SEI, single stage to orbit / reusable launch vehicle initiatives barely mentioned ... the narrative switches almost exclusively to space station and robotic science for the nineties, capped by an excursion into the first wave of breathless / heady "commercial" space mania of the late nineties. All interesting, but gapped and a little disorganized, but then, so were the 90s as far as spaceflight was concerned.
Overall, I'd recommend this read, but ended up wishing Burrows had had the last 15 years under his belt to include as well. A good survey of spaceflight from the timeframe of about 1990-now has, I think, yet to be written.
January 5, 2017
Perhaps the best and more comprehensive history of the space age, while still remaining readable and entertaining. My only complaint is the very abrupt drop-off in the level of detail and a huge acceleration in time near the end, with things like Pathfinder being basically footnotes compared to the first Mars probes.
I'd love for Burrows to write a sequel, so to speak, extending this from where he left off in the 90s to today.
I'd love for Burrows to write a sequel, so to speak, extending this from where he left off in the 90s to today.
September 11, 2013
A sweeping history of the space age, including rich details about the Soviet program and early German rocket research, in addition to the U.S. program. It includes a fascinating look at the politics behind programs, and well worth reading. I would have given this 4.5 stars. It does get a little dry at times, and it lacked some of the sense of awe that Andrew Chaikin had in "A Man on the Moon" - a book that was more narrowly focused on the Apollo program.
September 21, 2007
A solid piece of work recounting the history of what many call the First Space Age, a period largely composed of the Cold War space race and following "lost period" concluding the 20th century. Burrows writes this book not so much as an historical account, but as a foundation for what may come. One can clearly feel the author's measured enthusiasm for our future in space.
November 29, 2011
A very good general history of the exploration of space that does an effective job of putting spaceflight (human and robotic) into the broader context of human history. Numerous asides to literature, film, and mythology help support Burrows' overall theme: space exploration is as much about culture as it is technology.
May 10, 2014
Fantastic book. The author does a great job of transitioning back and forth between the larger picture of the space race and later space eras while also providing detailed narratives and histories of specific individuals and programs.
January 17, 2015
incredibly detailed and comprehensive history of the social and political factors that shaped man's expansion in space. covers the entire 20th century. a fascinating read for anyone interested in space.
May 17, 2010
Through 1950s
August 3, 2010
This book deals with more of the political side of space exploration rather than technical side. That said, it still is a fascinating look at what goes on behind the scene.
July 30, 2013
A solid comprehensive book about the space race, though sometimes a bit encyclopedic, and less readable than others.
October 26, 2015
A great history of space travel, with some groan-worthy metaphors about JFK and an unbelievable amount of editorializing about Communism and Russian culture.
November 28, 2017
A very detailed look at the history of space exploration. Defiantly something I would advise for any lovers of the vast sea of darkness.
did-not-finish
November 23, 2018Hooooo boy that was boring. I couldn’t. I tried.
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