First, let's face the facts. You are not - probably never will be - an astronaut. The vast majority of us will never feel the thrill of launch, the disorientation of weightlessness, the awe of the Overview Effect (seeing our planet from above), a brisk work schedule while floating, or the flaming flight of re-entry. That's why we read books. Your chance in space will be if you can afford it as a tourist. This isn't to let you down early, but reading this book makes you believe, with just a little bit of hope, that you can do it! In How to Astronaut, Colonel Terry Virts's second book (I didn't read the first), he gives us a decent ride-along as wingman to his fighter pilot viewpoint. He doesn't look down on us, though he's a down-to-Earth kind of guy (pun intended - he actually writes 'pun intended' quite a few times). At the end of the day (and he uses that cliché a lot), Terry accomplishes two things with this book. It is both a How To in a Popular Mechanics sort of way, and a memoir. As a How To, the key takeaway is that fighter pilots make great astronauts. What's that? You're not a figher pilot? Then ISTBY (It Sucks to be You). The good news? HTO is an engaging memoir.
Terry doesn't eliminate the prospect that we non-fighter pilots can be orbital specimens - er, spacepersons - but he does relate that people he trained with or flew to space with were among the cream of the crop: survival experts, physicists, doctors, NFL players, rock stars, etc. What's that? You're not a Rock Star? But, Terry, you said if I can follow directions (like, "turn clockwise to open"), repair a toilet in space, and try Russian food, I'll make a good space traveler! I know a few plump plumbers who can do that blindfolded! The facts are you can't be a fat astronaut, lazy, a loner, or predisposed to exposing your asscrack. You can't be a wiseacre who cries "emergency!" or incorrigible joke puller. You will leave your family for long stretches, train like Ali, and have to follow a military protocol that doesn't respond well to "what's the red button for?" kind of inquiry. Still, Terry admits that even he, fighter pilot, made embarrassing gaffs, stupid mistakes, and just plain lost stuff on the International Space Station. So, maybe you can go into space, too, plain Jane.
Terry's optimism about your ability to ride aside, there are drawbacks to the book as a memoir. For example, take the chapter on sex in space. All I can gather is that Terry has been asked this question so much, being a handsome hunk of a fighter pilot, that he needed to include the topic.
The answer is, in brief, there's no time or opportunity, but Terry's repressed tone is out of the 50s. It's as if someone (maybe from NASA) is over his shoulder, about to give him an X rating for even hinting about anatomy, let alone intercourse. Why include it as a chapter if you can't seem to bring yourself to write about it? An explicit warning would serve (*Note: this is the only topic where Terry doesn't get explicit). Whether it is due to his avoiding things personal, his upbringing, or a general American prudishness, I don't know. He certainly has no problem talking about pooping in space or religion or politics, but he rarely mentions his family, and never brings up his marriage. Sex in space is an interesting topic deserving a book in and of itself, written by a professional. And by that I don't mean a rock star or a porn star. A medical professional will do.
About the chapter titled "Are we Alone? Is There a God?", again, Terry felt compelled to answer, because he must be asked about alien conspiracy theories all the time. Again, he's no expert, but he does opine unconvincingly about the creator. The argument that the complexity of the universe seems fine-tuned for human habitability is an old one. In my view, it is simpler to look at the complex physics and chemistry of the cosmos as causing many structures to emerge and form, among them life as we know it. I prefer to take the cosmic perspective further than Earth orbit to see that life as we do not know it may be the norm.
Besides these minor gripes, Colonel Virts's second book shows a man certainly changed by his encounter with space. He's an optimist. He studies (picking up books on writing by Stephen King and Strunk & White), and so you have to admire all the ways he's had to adapt his life for spaceflight. That's why he highly recommends it, why he agreed to learn how to film in IMAX for A Beautiful Planet, why he goes to the trouble of complaining about decisions made by higher ups while touting the genius minds who designed the ISS. He wants to influence others, and with this book, he has.