Product Description

Product Details

• Amazon Sales Rank: #231144 in Books
• Published on: 2008-08-05
• Released on: 2008-08-05
• Original language: English
• Number of items: 1
• Binding: Paperback
• 336 pages

From Publishers Weekly
Starred Review. The writing is fast-paced and crisp, the stakes high and the tension palpable from the first pages of this high-flying account of the early days of the space race between the U.S. and U.S.S.R., a race ignited by the Soviet launch of the first satellite, Sputnik, in 1957. Brzezinski (Fortress America), a contributor to the New York Times Magazine, says this battle for military and technological control of space, part of the larger Cold War, had lasting consequences. Brzezinski illuminates how the space race divided Americans: for instance, then Sen. Lyndon Johnson wanted to aggressively pursue the race, but President Eisenhower thought the ambitious senator was merely seeking publicity. The author also dissects the failed American spin: despite White House claims that Sputnik was no big deal, the media knew it was huge. Sputnik II, launched a month later, was even more unsettling for Americans, causing them to question their way of life. The principals—Khrushchev, Eisenhower, John Foster Dulles, rocket scientist Werner von Braun—are vividly realized. Yet even more than his absorbing narrative, Brzezinski's final analysis has staying power: although the U.S. caught up to the U.S.S.R., it was the Russians' early dominance in space that established the Soviet Union as a superpower equal to America. (Sept.)
Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From The Washington Post
Reviewed by Bryan Burrough

Let's face it: No one cares about space. NASA long ago became the governmental equivalent of NASCAR. The only time non-fans even notice it exists is when something crashes or explodes -- or when an addled astronaut dons space diapers in a bizarro cross-country bid to mace a romantic rival. (These things happen.) Ask any magazine editor: Nothing sells worse than a space cover. And space books? Oh, the horror. Mine sold 17 copies. And that counts my wife's book group.

The latest author to sink his pitons into this Everest of apathy is Matthew Brzezinski, a former Moscow correspondent for the Wall Street Journal. His Red Moon Rising chronicles the Russo-American space race of the mid-1950s. Authors of popular history tend to rise from two schools: those who seek to hook the reader with new information, and those who rely on storytelling skills. Brzezinski, no doubt aware of the challenge before him, springs with vigor from the latter camp. He is a storyteller on steroids, a savvy young cowboy who seizes the narrative bull by the horns, wrestles it to the dirt and furiously ropes up an energetic tale that owes less to F. Scott Fitzgerald than to F. Murray Abraham.

To say his prose is cinematic is an understatement. At times Red Moon Rising feels more like a screenplay than conventional nonfiction; all that's missing is camera instructions. The story opens on a chill Dutch dawn, 1944. A German V-2 rocket rises into the gloaming, arcs toward London and vaporizes a suburban street. Cut to: a Soviet scientist poking through a secret German rocket facility outside the ruins of Berlin, lifting its secrets. Cut to: a lonely GI stumbling upon a Nazi rocket factory deep in a German mountainside. Think I'm exaggerating? In his acknowledgments, Brzezinski thanks one old Russian for memories that form "some of the book's best action scenes."

When Brzezinski reaches the meat of his tale, you'd swear you were reading Francis Ford Coppola. He tells the entire story of postwar Soviet political and missile development during a single visit Nikita Khrushchev and other Politburo members make to a Russian missile base in 1956. It's a device straight out of "The Godfather," only instead of all the players being introduced during a festive Italian wedding, they're shown smoothing their goatees and bickering as they inspect rockets. Amid all the digressions and asides, you half expect Luca Brazzi to slink into the frame. Or Enzo the Baker.

In time, Brzezinski calms down, settling into a kind of pop-eyed, neo-Wolfean style. The characters parade by on brightly painted floats: Khrushchev, unlettered but unfettered, soiling the odd Polish toilet; Sergei Korolev, the Soviets' supersecret Chief Designer, pining for his daughter's love even as he samples his sister-in-law's; Wernher von Braun, the German aristocrat reborn in rural Alabama, sniffing at the stupid Americans. In spots Brzezinski overdoes it, his prose growing a tad ripe. The U.S. secretary of defense, Charles Wilson, is repeatedly referred to by his nickname, "Engine Charlie." Rockets "fling" nuclear warheads. Scientists don't work. They "beaver away."

Yet, however broad Brzezinski's strokes, one comes away not only entertained but informed, with a clear sense of why the pennywise Soviets leapt ahead in missile technology while the Americans, focused on developing bombers to reach Russian soil, failed to realize the importance of space until they woke beneath a communist moon. What interests Brzezinski most, aside from his characters' myriad foibles, is the bureaucratic struggles leading up to Sputnik's launch -- the internecine squabbles between arms of the Soviet bureaucracy as well as those between the Army and Air Force. Few officials on either side, it appears, had any clue what a very big deal Sputnik was until the Western press learned of it, declaring the Russians had won the first heat in a race no one had quite understood they were running.

Throughout, Brzezinski remains in firm control, carving a fast-moving narrative from his own interviews and the research of others, bringing the story to a close when von Braun matches the Soviets by launching a U.S. satellite. Some of the book's set pieces -- er, action scenes -- show real promise, especially Sputnik's nail-biting launch from a Central Asian spaceport. In the end, what you think of Red Moon Rising probably depends on what you expect from popular history. Want a fun, easy read, something you can gulp down while idling in the after-school pickup line? Buy it. Want something comprehensive, authoritative, Caro-like? Pass. Whatever your preference, keep in mind the name Matthew Brzezinski. This book feels like a practice run from a young author destined for big things.

Copyright 2007, The Washington Post. All Rights Reserved.

From Booklist
Comparable to Paul Dickson's Sputnik: Shock of the Century (2001), Brzezinski's speedy narrative of the first satellite slings readers from launch pads to conference rooms. Beyond the storied facts of the Sputnik event, Brzezinski integrates a theme of Eisenhower and Khrushchev's initially dim understanding of Sputnik's significance. They soon sensed the extraordinary societal reaction of pride in the USSR and panic in the U.S., but their adjustments were quite different. Brzezinski dramatizes Khrushchev's personally shaky grip on power in 1957, when Stalinists attempted to oust him, connecting the satellite spectacular to a reinforcement of his political position. Ike, on the other hand, his eye on expenses, tried to resist the do-something stampede but was overwhelmed. From the domestic politics of the cold-war rivals, Brzezinski shifts to the technically temperamental missiles with which the Soviet Union's secret "Chief Designer" (Sergei Korolev) and his counterparts on rival U.S. Army and Navy teams strove to heave an orbiting orb. A kinetic rendition of Sputnik, this will score with spaceflight buffs. Taylor, Gilbert

Customer Reviews

"One Small Ball" and the Terror that Started the Space Race
I must have received a pre-release copy of 'Red Moon Rising' because I review books for a large newspaper. Two weeks ago the doorbell rang and there it was on my doorstep. I'm glad they sent it. This political history of the sputnik launch reads as if it was co-written by Ian Flemming.

The political effects of the Soviet launch of Sputnik in October 1957 shocked the Russians as much as the Americans: Sputnik was simply the by-product of Soviet attempts to create a decent missile-weapons system. But by being the first in space, the USSR placed itself in an orbit equal with the world's then sole superpower, the USA. PS1--prostreishy sputnik, or `simplest satellite,'--spent only 92 days beeping innocuously far above the earth, but it instilled far more terror in the West than 1000s of silos spread across Siberia ever could. And Khrushchev, technologically ignorant but ever the opportunist, milked it for all it was worth.

Of course for the USA the launch of Sputnik was humiliating, shattering America's complacency and belief in its technological superiority, and exposing US security weaknesses even then ("For the Soviets, it was mind-boggling how much information the Americans naively left lying around for the KGB to scoop up. Russian generals didn't need a satellite to find out what was going on in Washington. They needed a missile to destroy it." pg. 144). Most significantly, Sputnik caused untold political upheaval. That "one small ball" was Eisenhower's undoing.

In fact, 'Red Moon Rising' is essentially just this--a political history of technology, not the history of a technological event. The author, Matthew Brzezinski, tells the story of the politics--not so much the science--behind the development of Russia's missile program and how Sputnik's launch (which was little more than an afterthought in Russia's defense strategy) started the space race.

It does start off a little slow, and keeping track of the different players in this drama requires that the reader pay attention. But it's worth getting through the first few chapaters and remembering who's who.

With its quick pace, trans-global intrigue, and cast of ego-maniacal scientists, generals, and heads of state, this is a great book. And as an example of how a history of major political events can be constructed around an important technological moment, 'Red Moon Rising' is excellent.

Fascinating look at the early space race
This book is a fascinating look at the start of the space race, how the Soviets won and why, and the forces that surrounded those momentous events. Author Brzezinski works both sides of the Iron Curtain, showing what influenced Khrushchev's interest in the project and Eisenhower's disdain of the American counterpart, and makes it clear how really happenstance and uncertain the whole thing was.

The Soviet effort was headed by a visionary who's pretty much unknown outside Russia, and rather obscure even within his native country. His name was Sergei Korolev, and he was the visionary behind much of the early Soviet space program. The Soviets, of course, were paranoid, and their leadership was constantly insistent on the leadership getting credit for everything, so even in Khrushchev's more liberal Soviet Union Korolev's name was classified until after his death. The author does a wonderful job recreating the life of this loud, boisterous, intelligent scientist who wasn't the best rocket designer, but was a pretty good project manager who contrived to use other people's talents to their full potential. His counterpart, Bruce Medaris (another unknown), is similarly brought to life, and the result is a fascinating look at the early space programs of the two countries involved.

The book is to a fair extent about the politics involved in the race on each side, so there's a considerable discussion of the major issues of the day, especially those which distracted President Eisenhower or Khrushchev when either of them was trying to make a decision regarding the launching of missiles or satellites. Eisenhower had to deal with the British and French invading Egypt, and himself sort of invade Little Rock, Arkansas with the 101st Airborne to integrate the schools there. Khrushchev had a failed coup to weather, a too-popular army chief to demote, and a stumbling economy. And of course neither of the men recognized how important Sputnik was going to be until it was up in the sky, beeping harmlessly and orbiting the earth. Pravda barely noted the launch the day it happened: the following day, when it had become clear that everyone else was impressed, the headline was inches in height.

This is a very good book, interesting and well-written. It works well on several levels, as a political history of the United States, as a cautionary tale of the dangers of bureaucratic rivalry in our government, as a further cautionary tale of the dangers of believing every bit of intelligence passed through the hands of the government, and as an interesting discussion of why the Soviets were good at some things and so very bad at others. I would recommend Red Moon Rising.

Authenticity and "Truthiness"
A fast-paced treatment of the Soviet Union's launch of the first artificial Earth satellite and the American response, but the narrative bogs down frequently as the author stops to fill in background information in the course of a scene. The author also drops technical minutiae into the narrative to maintain interest and add authenticity. Unfortunately, Brzezinski is not that well-grounded in aerospace technology or terminology, and inserts enough clangers that the result is less an air of authenticity than of "truthiness."

Where this weakness particularly struck me was Chapter 6, "Pictures in Black and White," the opening of which describes the launch of a CIA U-2 mission to photograph the launch complex at Tyuratam.

* Brzezinski apparently has read that the U-2 had "bicycle landing gear," i.e., only two landing gear, located along the fuselage centerline. That becomes "The landing gear... appeared to consist of a lone bicycle wheel."

* Describes the CIA pilot as wearing an orange full-pressure suit, a garment that was not developed until years later. (The pilot would have been wearing a partial-pressure suit, like the David Clark MC-3.)

* Confuses Bell Aircraft with Bell Labs -- and further confuses the Bell Aircraft X-16 project with the "Americanization" of British Canberra bombers by Martin Aircraft.

* Describes the U-2 as having a wingspan "three times" its 60-foot fuselage length. For the early-model U-2's being discussed the fuselage length was a little over 49 feet, the wingspan 80 feet. I was starting to wonder if Brzezinski had ever seen a photo of a U-2.

* Describes attempts by MiG-21 fighters to intercept the first U-2 flight over the Soviet Union in July 1956. Quite a trick, considering that the first experimental prototype of the delta-winged MiG-21 only flew in June 1956 and production airplanes didn't enter service until 1959.

The author's overall aim is to place the launch of the first Earth satellites -- Sputniks 1 and 2, and the American Explorer and Vanguard -- in context, not only of technical accomplishments but also of the political maneuvering in both the United States and the Soviet Union that made a fairly straightforward engineering achievement into a watershed in world politics. That's an ambitious and laudable goal, and Brzezinski does (I think) an excellent job sketching the political pressures bearing on both Khrushchev and Eisenhower in late 1957.

I have to wonder, though, if all the connections made are valid. Omissions in participants' backgrounds can make inferences look more plausible than they really are, and there are some omissions in the book.

An oversight that struck me (though with no great effect on Brzenski's overall narrative) has to do with Wernher von Braun's career in the United States. Brzezinski's narrative for von Braun between the end of World War 2 and the launch of Sputnik is roughly: 1) von Braun cools his heels in Texas for two years, 2) von Braun works in obscurity at the Redstone Arsenal for the U.S. Army's Ballistic Missile Agency, 3) von Braun is approached by Walt Disney to advise on and appear in Disney's 1955 - 1957 "Man in Space" TV specials and becomes famous.

Missing from that storyline, though, is the event that made von Braun a public figure in the first place (though his Disney TV appearances certainly boosted his prominence to a whole new level): The 1952 - 1954 "Collier's Magazine" series of eight articles on space travel, a landmark in the introduction of space to the American public consciousness.

Before the rise of TV, the glossy magazines were a far greater influence on public opinion than they are today and "Collier's" was one of the Big Four, with a peak circulation of four million readers. The articles, some co-authored by von Braun and Cornelius Ryan, laid out plans for Earth satellites, manned rocket ferries, a space station, and an expedition to the Moon carried out by a fleet of huge spacecraft. The magazine's large-format, glossy pages carried detailed color illustrations and cutaways by artists like Chesley Bonestell and Fred Freeman. Supported by "Collier's" publicity efforts for the series, von Braun was interviewed on national television for the first time. Disney's Ward Kimball didn't just happen on Wernher von Braun out in the wilds of Alabama when he started pre-production on "Man in Space." Von Braun was already famous -- and the obvious "go-to" guy about manned space flight.

A Wernher von Braun CV that doesn't include "Collier's" is a little like a bio of John Kennedy that doesn't mention PT-109.

"Red Moon Rising" is colorful and entertaining. I just have some reservations about it as history.