Actual rating: 3.5 stars.
A fascinating near-autobiography by an airline pilot who flew from the late 1930s into the 1950s, the era of unpressurised two- and four-engined propliners. Gann has great stories to share, many quite frightening, some of which will have you gripping the edges of the book like a control yoke, knuckles white. My god, those were dangerous days, and the early airline pilots took risks that would be inconceivable today, letting down through solid weather with inaccurate altimeter settings until as low as fifty feet above the ground or ocean, trying to establish visual contact with the surface; flying into thunderstorms and icing conditions; pressing fuel minimums beyond the point of no return. Reading Gann's litany of departed airline pioneers -- men who died, one after another, usually a microsecond before their trusting passengers -- is like standing inside the cleft of the Vietnam War Memorial, thinking "my god, all those names!"
This is not merely a history of the airline industry's early days, it is also a history of the US Army Air Corps' transport command, set up in the early days of WWII, and the establishment of trans-Atlantic routes and refueling stops; a history of American airline involvement in Central and South America; and a lengthy treatise on the airline seniority system.
Why call it a near-autobiography? Because Gann changes the names of the departed, and steadfastly refuses to name any of the airlines involved, including his own. Who, after all these years, does he think he's protecting? It is typical of airline pilots never to slight their own organizations, I suppose, and Gann is no exception.
Why not four stars? Because this is a very wordy book, and I found myself skimming over some philosophical and repetitious paragraphs, trying to skip ahead to pick up the thread of a story. The book is essentially a sting of "there I was" stories, and they're all fascinating -- but you have to wade through thigh-deep "there but for the grace of god" moralizing to get to the outcomes. Some of Gann's musings are vital to the book, however, and you have to be careful not to skip over those. At the heart of this book is a dissertation on fate, the fickleness thereof. Why did Gann survive this thunderstorm when so-and-so, a vastly more experienced pilot, died under identical circumstances? Why did Gann's engines keep running when, after he landed, ground crews found the tanks bone dry?
I'm an aviator, but my experience is in military fighters, not the airlines. Still, I'm fascinated by the story of aviation's development in the US and the world, and this book is an insider's take on it, told from the left seat -- despite skimming over a few wordy paragraphs, I couldn't put it down.