Seize the Moment: The Autobiography of Britain's First Astronaut

by Helen Sharman, Christopher Priest

Helen Sharman was born in 1963 and was in primary school when man first landed on the Moon. She trained as a scientist and in 1989, when working as a research technologist for Mars Ltd, she heard about Project Juno (an agreement under which the UK would fly a cosmonaut on a Soviet/UK space flight) on the radio, whilst driving home from work. She jotted down the phone number as she waited at traffic lights, and then found herself on a list of thousands. But she made it to the short-list of four, and her final selection put paid to suggestions that she was the "token woman". Helen travelled three million miles in space with Soviet cosmonauts, on a successful mission that also had its share of controversy, and in this book she tells her story.

Genres: Nonfiction, Space

189 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1993

Reviews

[Bionic Jean · Rating 5 out of 5]

When I was little, like many of my generation, I had “space fever”. Anything to do with space travel, rockets, or the moon fascinated me and set my imagination racing. This was the time when space travel was virtually unknown, and very exciting; when families listened to Charles Chilton serials on the radio and (if we were lucky enough to have one) watched Quatermass on the television. Thunderbirds and the first episode of Dr. Who were just around the corner, set to scare, intrigue and thrill us each week.

The whole of Britain was starry-eyed. Shops proudly displayed “space age” battery powered toys, and sweet shops sold “flying saucers” filled with sherbet. The first red, yellow, orange and green “Zoom” ice lollies appeared, shaped like a rocket. Most young children are fascinated by dinosaurs, and now we had “Space” to capture our imaginations too. My first attempt at a talk for my class was on the solar system. We read comics about astronauts and aliens while the adults read pulp fiction, or more serious accounts of the burgeoning new science.

All my family were heavily into astronomy and the idea of space travel, and my father delighted in showing me a clipping from the newspaper where the astronomer royal had said: “Space travel? Utter bilge!” Dad would chuckle, and then carefully put it back in his wallet. He knew it would not be too long before the eminent gentleman had to eat his words. I wanted to keep my own clippings, and asked if I could cut out the newspaper photos of my hero, Yuri Gagarin, the first human in Space, smiling as he waved to the cameras. (I still have these, carefully pinned together, and kept safe, although they are yellowing now.)

Dad was the president of the Junior Amateur Astronomical Society for the large city where we lived. “Junior” seemed a misnomer to me, as most of the members seemed very grown-up. Actually they were teenagers, or university students reading astrophysics and destined to work in the field: perhaps at Jodrell Bank observatory, or somewhere in the USA. I think their top age was about 25 plus, but they accepted me going along with my Dad each week just to listen, especially if there was a famous speaker like Patrick Moore. I can’t have understood more than about a tenth of what was going on, but I enjoyed being lifted up to look at the sky through the huge telescope at the moon, or Mars perhaps, and looking at the constellations and sometimes Venus, low and bright near the horizon, with my own little telescope at home.

Surprisingly, Helen Sharman had none of this enthusiasm as a child. She was born and grew up in the same English city as I did, but neither she nor her family were interested in astronomy or space travel. She did not paint a picture of a rocket with “Fireball XL5” on its side, (or feel the slight disgust at having to explain to my teacher what it was!) Helen Sharman stresses that she had a happy childhood and an “unremarkable” education. When pressed by a reporter years later, to search for some relevance in her childhood, could only come up with a feeble attempt to make a model of a rocket out of milk bottle tops with a group, at school. Otherwise her life was completely free from astronomical projects.

The space craze in Britain had dropped off in the next decade. Yuri Gagarin’s momentous first space flight was two years before she was born, and she was just 6 years old when Neil Armstrong walked on the moon. All this seemed to escape her. Yet Helen Sharman was destined to become the first Briton to go into Space, and to spend the next decades campaigning for more education about space travel. She is still advocating for space science, and inspiring young women who want to work in STEM fields. In Seize the Moment: The Autobiography of Britain’s First Astronaut, published in 1993, she explains how it all happened.

On May 18th 1991, Helen Sharman launched aboard Soyuz TM-12 with two Soviet cosmonauts. She was 27 years old, with no military background, no pilot license and no aerospace engineering degree. She had never even considered becoming an astronaut—it wasn’t something a British person could be—since Britain had no space programme.

Anyone conversant with vintage British Sci-fi will know that this wasn’t always the case. Through the 1940s-50s, the assumption was that Britain would organise space projects and launch rockets to the moon and the stars. In stories I read there might be an American or Canadian travelling with them, or an astronaut from what was then called “The Eastern Bloc”, or perhaps the odd European. But the team was primarily made up of white English males.

This assumption persisted until the 1960s, when we opted out of developing autonomous, state-funded human spaceflight. In 1971 Britain formally abandoned our independent rocket launch capability, following the cancellation of the Black Arrow project, although the decision was made before Black Arrow’s final (successful) launch. The UK still remains a major player in Space, but now we rely on international partnerships like the European Space Agency.

Between 1961—when my hero Yuri Gagarin was launched into space in Vostok 1, Alexei Leonov’s first multi‑crew flight and first spacewalk in 1965—and Helen Sharman’s journey, human spaceflight had made phenomenal progress. It had moved from first orbits and lunar landings (Vostok, Mercury, Gemini, Apollo) to routine long‑duration station life and reusable spacecraft (Salyut, Skylab, Mir, Shuttle). The USSR and USA had become dominant, and this period began to be defined as the Cold War “Space Race”. The USA made their Apollo missions between 1968–1972, including Apollo 11: the first human Moon landing in 1969.

1975 saw the first USA/USSR joint crewed mission: the Apollo–Soyuz Test Project, in which an Apollo spacecraft docked with a Soyuz. The USA Challenger disaster of 1986 marked a major setback and programme pause. The USA’s Space Shuttle closed in 2011.

USSR’s Mir Space station started operations in the same year, 1986. It hosted long‑duration crews, complex multi‑dockings, and international visitors, including European and other foreign astronauts. Throughout the 1980s the Interkosmos programme of political–scientific cooperation continued; Soviet Soyuz flights carried guest cosmonauts from both the Eastern Bloc and other nations. Helen Sharman participated in the most famous, the British Juno space mission of 1988–1989. (In case of confusion, “Juno” was the Western name for a 20th century Soviet programme, before the same name was chosen for one of the NASA missions this century, to investigate Jupiter’s origin and internal structure.)

This cooperative British-Soviet mission to send a British person to the Mir space station was a gesture of goodwill, in the dying days of the Cold War. The USSR wanted to offer spaceflight opportunities to Western nations. Foreign partners contributed experiments for Mir, especially biomedical and scientific investigations into different materials. Specialised scientific equipment was sent to the Mir space station, to study how raw materials, metals, polymers, and biological samples behaved under microgravity, extreme temperatures, and a high-vacuum environment. Studying materials off Earth eliminated the confusing factor of gravity. It was this scientific work which Helen Sharman found she was eminently qualified for.

So it was that Helen Sharman, driving home from work one day, heard a radio advert that would change her life:

“Astronaut wanted. No experience necessary.”

She was 26 years old and after taking a degree in Chemistry, had worked as an engineer for GEC in London for 3 years. Now she was pursuing a Ph.D alongside her work as a research chemist for the American confectioner, Mars. She enjoyed her job, working in a lab in Slough, and commuting home to her flat in Surbiton, but when she heard the requirements—to be between 21 and 40, to have a high standard of fitness, have a formal scientific training and a proven ability to learn a foreign language—she thought:

“That’s me! I’m all those things!”

So Helen jotted down the phone number on the back of an old petrol receipt as she waited at traffic lights, and later filled in the lengthy form—thinking that she might as well—during a routine wait for an experiment to finish. It was researching the luminescence of rare-earth ions in crystals and in glasses:

“I was fascinated to see light being emitted by substances when they were bombarded by electrons, but I was particularly interested in how some of these ions could store energy from the electrons and transfer that energy to other ions, which would then emit their own luminescence.”

For a layperson it seems strange to think that this sort of work is essential to ensure the chocolate solidifies and does not fall off the ice cream, but so it is.

The form sat in her bag for several weeks, and she did not really rate her chances. She would have preferred to move on to the next crystal, but … there was a chance. In fact there were over 13,000 other applicants, of whom 5 and a half thousand actually filled in the form, and 150 were selected. They were gradually whittled down to just 4.

This is not how the book begins. Usually in an autobiography the author describes their early life. Sometimes they even go back two or three generations, and it is rather dull. However Seize the Moment: The Autobiography of Britain’s First Astronaut is co-written by one of Britain’s best Science and speculative fiction authors, Christopher Priest, and I suspect he told her that the golden rule of fiction is to begin with something exciting! Chapter 1 certainly does, and is called “8 Minutes and 50 Seconds; the Launch”. It is Helen’s diary entry for 18th May 1991, from when she woke up to when the rocket actually fired.

The three cosmonauts who were about to launch took breakfast together. Sergei the flight engineer [Sergei Konstantinovich Krikalyev]—a civilian cosmonaut from Russia who had been to the space station once before, and Tolya, her flight commander [Anatole Pavlovich Artsebarski] from Ukraine, who was to remain on Mir until October 1991. Like Helen, this was his first launch. Other cosmonauts were there too, such as Leonov [Alexei Arkhipovich Leonov], the first man to walk in space and Tim Mace, the army officer with whom she had trained in the Soviet Union, and who was now her backup for the mission. We read about all their final medical checks, how they were herded around, their public small-talk, and their drive in a long blue and silver bus to the launch site.

Details such as her personal items were interesting: a camera, film, earplugs and a Swiss Army knife—which she had to smuggle in in her space suit. Also smuggled in was a handful of grass (a fragrant wild plant called pollin) and a pink, chiffon jumpsuit with frilly billowing sleeves, both courtesy of Leonov, whose mischievousness was attested to by Arthur C. Clarke. The astronauts already there had not seen any other human for 6 months, and it was traditional to make a formal occasion of their first dinner when new astronauts arrived. (Helen duly kept this secret, and was greeted with a roar of delighted amusement when she—quite literally—floated in for the meal, whereupon one of the other cosmonauts remembered that he had hidden something similar for a special occasion, and donned a tie, which was then suspended horizontally for the entire meal, because of the “weightlessness”.)

Nearing the base, despite over a year of preparation, Helen felt a huge surge of emotion at the sight of “her” rocket. Then once aboard there were many checks to do, and no time to reflect. This was what the Americans call the countdown period, but the system is different in Russia. It is just as strictly timed by the clock of course, with an occasional radio announcement of “twenty minutes to go”, or “5 minutes”... “2 minutes” ... “1 minute”. Helen briefly thought of Christa McAuliffe, who had died in the Challenger shuttle disaster, but soon logic took over. She wished she could have known her, but felt closer to the cosmonauts who had preceded her on Soyez missions, such as Toyohiro Akiyama, who had told her how unfit he had been before his training. The TV company he worked for had paid all the expenses for the resulting story, but as Helen said, he had earned his place.

Then they felt:

“that momentary limbo where the rocket seems to balance precariously on its thrust, surely destined to topple. But the engines continued to roar beneath us and the instruments confirmed that we were away from the tower, that acceleration was beginning to build, and we could feel the pressure of g-forces growing steadily against us.

When I next looked at the clock we were 20 seconds into the flight …”

Helen continues to describe this second by second, both what is actually happening at each stage, as well as her reactions and those of her crewmates:

“[Dazzled by the golden sunlight pouring in] Tolya said ‘What can you see? What can you see?’ I could see the curvature of the Earth! Speckly white clouds! A brilliant azure sea! The blackness of space!”

Her amazement is infectious; as Arthur C. Clarke says in his Foreword:

“Her account of the hours before launch and the actual sensations during ascent to orbit is so gripping that any reader will feel a vicarious involvement. This is exactly what it must be like.”

I agree completely. After this first chapter, we read chapter 2: “26 years: One Small Life”, which acts as a lengthy flashback of Helen’s life and the selection process described. It’s an interesting way to write an autobiography, as this format continues through all 11 chapters. We have one chapter set in the present, describing the docking, the experiments and so forth, interspersed with chapters from earlier, in which she details all the tests the four of them had during the 18 months, as well as their lives in Star City, comparing it with the average Russian’s way of life. She talks of the kindness of the people, none of who know any English, the filthiness of the streets and dangers of the trains, the difficulty of shopping at GUM, where nothing is on the shelves and products have to be requested by writing a note, the hugeness of Gagarin’s statue and the awe his name still commanded, and the wonder she felt at Moscow’s planetarium and Space Museum, and the time the four were incarcerated in their hotels, repeating all the tests, eating the stodgy food such as ’kasha’—a grain like oats—or semolina and peas for breakfast with nobody telling them what was going on. This was November 1989; the Berlin Wall had fallen 2 days before they arrived in the Soviet Union, and Eastern Europe was in chaos. (When they returned in 1991, it would be to Russia, not the USSR.) Such chapters are interspersed with technical chapters describing her experiments, the Soyez module and Mir, with diagrams and groups of photographs.

Helen was selected as one of four finalists—along with Major Tim Mace, an Army officer who fitted the traditional astronaut profile perfectly, Gordon Brooks and Clive Smith. The British press had a field day, giving each of the four snappy names. Tim was the “Officer and Gentleman”, Gordon was the “Family Man”, Clive was the “James Bond Lookalike” and Helen was “The Girl from Mars”—or even worse—the “Token Woman”. “That one really riled me” she says, especially since she had been told earlier that the Russians wanted the two finalists to be of the same sex.

For 18 months, these four went through intense training and tests at Star City near Moscow, not knowing which pair would be chosen and which would be the back-up team. They learned Russian and studied spacecraft systems. They underwent rigorous training to prepare for the launch, enduring centrifuge training which pulled forces strong enough to make them pass out. There were tests for weightlessness, and for emergency situations. They practised every scenario, never knowing which one of them would actually go to Space.

Helen Sharman usually uses the term “cosmonaut”, since her training was by Roscosmos, the Russian space agency, although she does sometimes use “astronaut”, because that term is more commonly used in the West. During the Cold War this distinguished between the US and Soviet space programmes. Then the term “taikonaut” emerged, as China entered human spaceflight. Each term marks national identity rather than any difference in the role itself.

In the Foreword Arthur C. Clarke repeats the noble adage: “There are no frontiers in Space”, but also that there is understandable national pride. Since we see much comradeship and generosity of spirit in these joint Space missions, how is it that the name “Helen Sharman” is not more widely known by the British public?

Much was made at the time of Britain’s first person in space, making history by orbiting Earth aboard a Soviet spacecraft. Helen Sharman was not only the first British person in Space, but the first ever Western European woman in Space. During her 8 days on Mir she conducted medical experiments and tested plant growth in microgravity. She photographed Earth and whilst in orbit spoke to British schoolchildren over amateur radio. When she returned from Space on May 26th 1991, she was a national hero. She received an OBE and met the Queen. Roads and schools were named after her. Yet three decades later, most of her country have forgotten Helen Sharman ever existed, and think a man who went to space 24 years later was the first.

Perhaps it was because Project Juno was privately funded by a consortium of British companies—and the British funding actually fell through mid-project. The Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev pressured his side to cover the costs, to keep the mission alive. But despite everything she did, some began to dismiss Helen as a “space tourist” because it was not an “official” government programme.

Later the ESA started selecting astronauts and Helen made the shortlist twice, but was not chosen. Then in December 2015 Major Tim Peake was launched to the International Space Station as an ESA astronaut; officially backed by the British government, and publicly funded.

Once again, the media went wild, hailing Tim Peake now as “Britain’s first astronaut”—even though he wasn’t. Helen Sharman’s remarkable achievements have been eclipsed.

Perhaps it is better to finish on a different note.

When she returned to Earth, doctors predicted that Helen Sharman would remain extremely fit all her life, except for one thing, which all astronauts suffer from ...

a longing to go back to Space.

[Sam Swash · Rating 4 out of 5]

The story of Helen Sharman, Britain's first cosmonaut, is a fascinating tale. A chemist working for Mars Confectionary, Sharman entered a radio competition for the chance to go to space with the Soviets, and was successful in being chosen.

I'm quite surprised Sharman isn't a better known figure in the UK, given both her achievement and the captivating nature of how it came about.

Sharman's account is a personal and human one, and that's what makes it inspiring - a seemingly ordinary life becoming extraordinary.

Four stars only because the non-chronological sequencing of the chapters didn't really work for me.

[Jubilado · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a simple acount of Helen Sharman's selection, training and experience of being in space. There are alternating chapters of the preparation for and the experience of getting to and back from the space station. The details are fascinating. There is no journalistic hyperboli. This is a valuabe record.

[Pat (ू•ᴗ•ू❁) · Rating 2 out of 5]

Este es el libro que ha cortado la buenísima racha de lectura que llevaba teniendo desde enero, y que he tardado dos meses en acabar. Aún así, me ha gustado. La experiencia de Helen Sharman como primera astronauta británica y sobre todo, el hecho de serlo en el programa espacial soviético, es muy interesante. Y el libro en sí no es largo, sabe el material que tiene para contar y no se excede. El problema creo que ha sido el estilo narrativo y la edición. La temática de los capítulos se intercala y no sigue un orden líneal, y los temas que a mí más me interesaban no son tan prominentes como esperaba.
O quizá es que tenía demasiado idealizado lo que es ser astronauta.
Pero lo dicho, a pesar de todo esto me alegro de haberlo leído y no quedarme con la curiosidad.

[Sophia Knowles · Rating 4 out of 5]

Such a beautiful and incrediblebook. I have met Helen Sharman in real life and she is such a lovely person and so inspiring. My favourite quote from the book is:
"Yes you can go," he said. "But there is an exception to what I just said. You do have an illness that you will suffer from in the future. I'm afraid it's incurable." He closed his notepad. "Cosmonauts never recover from it. It's a longing to go back."
That line hit me.

[Mjke · Rating 5 out of 5]

Hooked me in from beginning to end. A wonderful account of the selection, training and mission, as well as of the unexpected motivations and decision path that led to Helen Sharman becoming Britain's first person in space. I would recommend this book to anyone interested in space or in driven and interesting people.

[Andrew · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a really interesting read, HS Britain's first astronaut. Her experience of 18 training months of being poked and prodded, learning Russian, physical training and having to endure a relentless intrusive press all for 8 days onboard the Mir station, her determination and endurance (and ability to keep a level head) are staggering to all us armchair astronauts.

We are so used to seeing these training regimes from a slick well funded American perspective its interesting to see it from the russian side it did come across as a bit "belt & braces".

A very interesting read from such an admirable woman who indeed siezed the moment.

[Judethmc · Rating 3 out of 5]

Interesting read if some what underwhelming. while the time she spent on space may have been incredible she does little to sell the process of getting there.

[Zoe · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sensational.
The UK's first but often overlooked astronaut. I don't really like autobiographies but this one was so fascinating and was laid out in a format that made the book easy to consume within one single evening.
Helen talks about her application process, how she was chosen, how she trained, what it was like to travel to space and then how she got home again. It is so human and written by such a 'normal' person, that she makes you believe anyone can touch the stars.
100% worth a read for anyone who loves space - she's so honest and her positivity, and friendly demeanor really shines through.