An intimate look at an amazing concept some still believe offers the best hope for fending off—literally—an errant asteroid...
Dyson, son of the distinguished British-born physicist Freeman Dyson, unveils a wealth of formerly classified information covering the attempt of a group of US scientists, beginning in 1957, to develop and launch a space vehicle powered solely by serial explosions of nuclear devices.
The elder Dyson, who lends extensive personal perspectives here, was involved with the effort (sponsored by the Defense Department’s hush-hush Advanced Research Projects Agency) from its inception; the list of its proponents reads like a roster of Nobel candidates, including one winner—the world-renowned atomic scientist Edward Teller. So it’s made immediately clear that, as hard as it may be to accept, detonating nuclear bombs right behind a huge, bullet-shaped spaceship was, and still is, by some, considered not only a practical avenue of technical pursuit but one offering far more promise for extending man’s horizon into the Solar System than those wimpy “chemical” rockets—the Atlases, Titans, etc.—that Wernher von Braun was simultaneously developing. (Briefed on Orion several years into the project, in fact, von Braun readily endorsed the concept.) Dyson’s myriad interviews nicely capture the sweep of a grandiose technical scheme, but also the rapturous initial state of Orion scientists whose coup, as they see it, has them turning nuclear weapons into plowshares under the auspices—not to mention watchful eyes—of the same generals who want to back down the Soviet Union at any cost. However, political obstacles would become even more daunting than the considerable technical challenges, as small, fission-based devices (like those intended to boost Orion) came to be viewed in some circles as even more dangerous than megaton-yielding H-bombs (since military commanders might actually be tempted to use one). Ultimately, creeping realization that the potential effects of radioactive fallout had been dangerously understated for years undermined what support remained, and so Orion’s budget was axed in 1964.
An intimate look at an amazing concept some still believe offers the best hope for fending off—literally—an errant asteroid or comet that could wipe humankind from Earth.Pub Date: April 16, 2002
ISBN: 0-8050-5985-7
Page Count: 320
Publisher: Henry Holt
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Feb. 1, 2002
BOOK REVIEW
BOOK REVIEW
A top-notch survey of the covert aviation programs conducted by the US military and intelligence agencies since WW II. Drawing on previously classified archives and other sources, aviation historian Peebles pieces together a fascinating story that begins with the XP-59A. This fixed-wing fighter with British- designed engines was America's first jet. Airframe flaws kept it out of production and combat, but the armed forces gained valuable experience in running secret projects with small teams at isolated test sites. Probably the best known of the so-called dark eagles were the U-2 and SR-71 spy planes developed by Lockheed's fabled Skunk Works. Less familiar craft also performed important if less glamorous services'': Model 147 drones (a.k.a. Lightning Bugs) did bomb-damage assessments and other reconnaissance missions in the unfriendly skies over Communist China and North Vietnam. Equally unheralded is the GNAT-750 UAV (unmanned aerial vehicle), which the CIA has used to overfly Bosnia at relatively small cost. Not all clandestine aeronautical enterprises are developmental, as the author makes clear in his judicious review of the still unacknowledged pilot-training programs that have been conducted with the aid of captured MiGs. Nor, press reports and purported sightings by believers in UFOs to the contrary, is every rumored project a reality. Indeed, Peebles goes out of his way to put paid to any lingering notion that the Air Force has funded or even contemplated a hypersonic flying wing code-named Aurora. He then segues gracefully into an assessment of the socioeconomic credits and debits that accrue from putting strategic weapons systems under security wraps for prolonged periods. An informed and informative overviewcomplete with anecdotal detail on the venturesome souls who participatedof the undercover activities that have given America air superiority over friends and foes alike. (35 b&w photos, not seen)
Pub Date: Nov. 1, 1995
ISBN: 0-89141-535-1
Page Count: 368
Publisher: Presidio/Random
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Sept. 1, 1995
A disappointingly flat collection of musings on engineering history. Petroski's concern, as in previous works such as The Pencil (1990), is the interdependence of engineering and society—the role of engineers in shaping the world we live in, but also the fact that engineering's achievements are driven not purely by technology but by economics, politics, and culture. But in demonstrating these truths through chronicles of great engineered projects and portraits of interesting engineers like Isambard Kingdom Brunel, he largely leaves out the ingredient that would really enlighten the reader—the engineering itself. ``The tapering at the top of the building demanded some especially tricky structural engineering,'' Petroski hints, with regard to Malaysia's Petronas Twin Towers, the world's tallest. But he leaves it at that, satisfied to provide a sketchy account of the building's materials and facilities, and a slight chronology of the project. Similarly, ``improvements in tunneling, such as the chore of getting rid of the soil,'' would seem to be a main topic in the history of the Channel Tunnel, but that phrase appears merely as a transition in Petroski's lifeless parade of 19th-century tunnel plans. Without using his tantalizing examples—pioneering soil mechanicist Karl Terzaghi and the rise and decline of the transatlantic steamship—to explain any engineering principles, they remain little more than aimless encyclopedia entries. Perhaps this is because they were written for a scientifically oriented audience (most appeared in American Scientist), with the intention of highlighting the historical and social context. Still, only occasionally, as in a chapter using the various uses of wireless communication to illustrate the unpredictable evolution of technology, do they seem to ascend above the assembled facts to a salient idea. Petroski is a little petulant about the respect engineering gets (as from the executors of Alfred Nobel's bequest), but he's squandered an opportunity to propagate a real sense of the science and labor of builders and inventors. (22 illustrations, not seen)
Pub Date: Dec. 17, 1997
ISBN: 0-375-40041-9
Page Count: 256
Publisher: Knopf
Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010
Kirkus Reviews Issue: Nov. 15, 1997
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