This review was first published by Booklist in August 2020.
How to Astronaut is an amusing and enlightening insight into an astronaut’s work life. Virts joined NASA near the end of the construction of the International Space Station (ISS) and continued as an ISS crew member. During his time, he led crews, performed space walks, docked the space shuttle to the ISS, worked as a medical officer, performed many science experiments, and even filmed an IMAX documentary—all of this after his first career as a fighter and test pilot with the U.S. Air Force. He shares stories from his many experiences: what it’s like to train, the terror of a launch, how to handle weightlessness, the pains of suiting up, how physically demanding space walks are, what the Earth is like from orbit, how astronauts eat, sleep, work, play, and—yes—go to the bathroom. This is an eye-opening insider’s view on what it’s really like to be an astronaut: the joys, the dangers, the fear, and the day-to-day reality of it. Virts’ writing is humorous, playful, down to earth, and often wise.
This review was first published by Booklist in August 2020.
In his latest, science teacher and proud skeptic Prothero takes on a raft of pseudo- and anti-scientific beliefs and handily debunks them: flat earth, hollow earth, young earth, geocentrism, moon landing conspiracies, faked fossils, flood myths, Atlantis, dowsing, and more. He briefly describes these schools of thought, where they come from, and summarizes the scientific evidence which shows that these beliefs are incorrect. But he wants to do more than just debunk. He believes scientists need to explain why and how they come to the conclusions they do. He ends most of the chapters with a section called “How We Know,” listing all the evidence supporting the relevant scientific conclusions. Also valuable is his introduction, in which he neatly summarizes how science works, how it evaluates evidence, the requirements for peer review and burden-of-proof, and how that process offers trustworthy understanding. Finally, he explores the reasons why some people reject science. Popular trust in science is eroding alongside decreases in scientific literacy; Prothero wants scientists to show their work to help earn that trust back.
This review was first published by Booklist on July 31, 2020.
Star Settlers is a cultural history of the human quest to conquer space. People have dreamed of travelling through the heavens for centuries, and the scientific advancements of the twentieth century have brought the possibility close to reality. Nadis seeks to understand the reasons why people want to expand out into space: as evolutionary imperative, as necessary for the survival of our species, and as spiritual quest. He traces the development of these ideas, from their earliest expressions in the seventeenth century to the present, and profiles many of the individuals and organizations who have pursued them. Some focus on colonizing Mars or the Moon, some want to build space stations, and some see humans filling entire star systems. Terraforming, ecosystem design, robots, AI, and transhumanism all have potential roles to play. The dream of space has been nurtured in science fiction, philosophy, spiritualism, and among the engineers and scientists of the Space Age. Ultimately, it’s not just a question of how we do it; it’s a question of whether we should.
But I also know you can’t fix structural inequity and intolerance by addressing individuals. If your strategy to overcome prejudice is to change the minds of prejudiced people, then you’re going to fail.
These convictions contradict each other. But I’m certain both are correct and necessary.
In his speech for the Book Award Celebration at the 2020 ALA Virtual Conference, Jerry Craft said:
“We can’t change the way the world sees us if we don’t first change the way we see ourselves.”
This perfectly encapsulates my division over this issue.
Black lives are not a problem to be solved or an academic text that can be studied. To recognize Black lives as ones to celebrate, empathize with and care about, here’s your antiracism work: read more fiction by and about Black people.
It brings to mind a story that has become core to who I am and how I see the world:
This review was first published by Booklist on June 19, 2020.
Dye started working for NASA as a college student in 1980. He eventually spent 20 years as a Flight Director in Mission Control, responsible for coordinating all the myriad teams and departments necessary to make the Shuttle fly, complete its mission, and land safely back on Earth. He ascended to the “center chair” during the first cooperative ventures with the Russians and the Mir space station, and stayed there through the construction of the International Space Station, to the last Shuttle flight in 2011. This gave him a front row seat to the entire span of the Space Shuttle program. His passion for his work is most apparent when he dives into the technical details of how missions are planned, how the Shuttle’s systems work, and the complexity of managing each flight. There are a lot of acronyms and jargon, descriptions of machines and computer systems, as well as some fundamental science, but nothing overwhelming. He does a fine job of explaining things without oversimplification. Shuttle, Houston is a fascinating insight into inner workings of NASA.
This title has been recommended for young adult readers:
YA/S – special interest: This title is recommended for teens with a strong interest in space flight.
Now that I have your attention with my intentionally confrontational, click-baity post title…
Last month (May 2020), my library reopened our book returns in preparation for limited reintroduction of material circulation in our community. The course of the pandemic in our service area was on a trend that indicated it would be safe to do so. The best data we have suggests we need to let returned materials sit for 72 hours before processing them back into the collection, onto the shelves, and into patrons’ hands.
Which is why a few of our branches have giant piles of books dumped on the floor:
Images like this one were presented in the media as my library reopened our book returns. It caused a minor furor online: people were offended we would treat books so callously. There were outraged comments on Twitter. Even the article this image is taken from can’t seem to avoid a slightly judgmental tone:
This review was first published by Booklist on June 1, 2020.
Autonomous vehicles (AV) are on their way and Townsend (Smart Cities, 2013) wants readers to be prepared. AV will fundamentally change the nature of communities in ways even the most optimistic prognosticators can’t imagine. Self-driving cars won’t be the end of it: this technology opens the door to everything from intelligent hoverboards to self-driving buildings. Fleets of driverless trucks and delivery rovers will upend manufacturing, shipping, and delivery systems. Algorithmic analysis of traffic patterns can drastically reduce carbon emissions and virtually eliminate accidents. There’s tremendous potential to be tapped into that can transform the world for the better. But there’s also great danger. Technology tends to worsen social inequalities, it threatens to create ubiquitous surveillance, and the fortunes to be made could easily lead to the near-complete privatization of public space. Townsend posits a set of principles for individuals to commit to so they can take control and demand a human-focused future before it’s decided for them. Ghost Road is a balanced, well informed, and ultimately hopeful examination of AV.
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about vocational awe. There’s been significant research done on this in multiple fields and it’s a legitimate issue. Our work as librarians is important and worth working hard to deliver. It’s right and good for us to take pride in our commitment. Our desire to serve motivates us to do the best work we can for the sake of others. We can make the world a better place. Our respect for our work, our desire for doing it, empowers us. It gives us deep satisfaction and helps people in our communities. That’s a good thing.
But our desire to serve makes us vulnerable, too. People can leverage it to manipulate us in ways we shouldn’t allow. I’ve been guilt tripped into doing work I shouldn’t have had to do, without sufficient compensation, because I wanted to be helpful. Our desire to do good can be used against us. It happens and it’s a problem. Our work is important but not enough for us to risk our health or well-being. It’s not important enough for us to work so hard for insufficient compensation.
We all deserve appropriate pay for our work, a healthy work-life balance, and safe working conditions. But it can be a challenge for those of us driven by a desire to serve to draw and hold appropriate lines when our communities depend on the services we provide. We should be proud and celebrate what we do! But we shouldn’t get lost in it.
This review was first published by Booklist on May 15, 2020.
In 2013, science journalist Greene was selected to participate in a four-month experiment simulating a crewed Mars mission: the Hawai’i Space Exploration Analog and Simulation (HI-SEAS). As NASA works toward sending humans to Mars, many of the thorniest issues they need to solve are psychological and not technical: the effects of isolation, the difficulties of communication, the reality of boredom, and the conflicts that arise when small groups of people are stuck together for long periods of time. The object of Greene’s experiment was to study “menu fatigue” and whether it would be beneficial to let astronauts cook their own food. Greene uses her experience in HI-SEAS as the basis for 12 essays exploring these issues and others: questions about who gets to be an astronaut and why, how extreme circumstances alter our perceptions of time and space, the ethics of human research, the complicated relationship between public and private efforts to explore space, and the personal aftermath of such endeavors. She addresses them with wit, insight, compassion, and, ultimately, hope.