The Right Stuff

The story of the first seven American astronauts, compared and contrasted with the life of Chuck Yeager, the first man to break the sound barrier. But this is far more than just a biography of names, dates and places. Wolfe delved deep into what it meant to be a Test Pilot in the years after the Second World War; how these men thought, and talked, and lived (and sometimes died). He also brings the whole story of the pilots' families into focus; what it meant to be married to a test pilot and how it affected the wives, especially in times when male and female roles were far more stratified than they are now. If this book had been written in the 1930s or 1940s, it would have been science fiction; but it goes far beyond any goshwow pulp show more melodrama.

All this is reflected back on the way these pilots were lauded by politicians, businessmen, the media and the American public. This adds a further dimension to the book, making it into a social history of the 1950s and 60s seen through the prism of the space programme.

Wolfe develops his theory that the top pilots had a particular mindset, the "Right Stuff" of the title. If you have to ask what the "Right Stuff" is, especially by the time you've read this book, then you are irretrievably blind to it, and you certainly don't possess it yourself. Wolfe identifies it, using the language of the time, as comprising in part of "manly virtues", though this phrase is italicised so often that I could not help but think that his tongue was firmly stuck in his cheek when he wrote it.

The 1983 film captures the book extremely well, though there is so much more in the book that the film couldn't pin down. For example, Glenn's wife Annie was (sympathetically) portrayed in the film as a somewhat shy and retiring character on account of her stammer; the film's depiction of her husband's tender relationship with her is a key part of its character portrait of John Glenn. But the book makes the point that Annie Glenn was neither shy nor retiring, coming as she did from "good pioneer stock", quite capable of holding her own in life and only quailing before a media onslaught that would roll over most people.

The book also returns often to the Air Force manned X-15 spaceplane project and its planned successors. Throughout the 1950s and 60s, whilst American administrations focussed on rocketry, the achievements of the X-15 pilots, in flying to the edge of space and beyond were broadly ignored. Yet the X-15 programme would eventually produce the first man to walk on the Moon, Neil Armstrong.

I can only fault the book on one error of fact; when talking about the Soviet Vostok vessels, Wolfe translates the Russian word 'Korabl' as 'Cosmic', when in fact it means 'ship'. Quite what the NASA astronauts would have thought, when they were pressing for changes to the Mercury capsule and the mission profiles to give them much more of the role of pilots rather than just payload, to know that the Russians were referring to their rocket as a "ship" from the outset will most likely remain lost.

The writing is resolutely Sixties, both in phrase and usage; but it is a fine piece of writing nonetheless and thoroughly deserves the accolades it received at the time of publication.

(Having said that, I'm sad to say that my copy, a film tie-in Bantam A-format paperback printed in the UK in 1983, is probably one of the nastiest books I've handled in recent years. Pulpy paper, a cover that displays edge and corner wear as soon as I picked it up, and excessively narrow margins and big blocks of text made worse by the displacement of the text towards the bottom of the page, resulting in almost no bottom margin, made the actual reading of this book an unpleasant experience. Fortunately, the content more than made up for this.) show less

Tom Wolfe’s 1979 book, The Right Stuff, chronicles the diverging research of high-altitude rocket planes and spaceflight from the early 1950s through Project Mercury, contrasting the Mercury Seven astronauts with test pilots at Edwards AFB and Naval Air Station Patuxent River, with Chuck Yeager standing out as exemplifying the “right stuff” even though he was not chosen for the space program. Wolfe writes in a somewhat conversational style, working to capture the mentality of test pilots of that era and how it defined what it meant to be a pilot for generations to come, much as Antoine de Saint-Exupéry and others did for pilots of the early twentieth century. Wolfe further evokes the heady emotion of the days of Mercury, when the show more immediacy of the Cold War turned the Space Race into a battlefront of sorts and the astronauts into Single Combat Warriors to whom the public paid homage. However, Wolfe points out that the test pilots at Edwards were skeptical of the space program, particularly as those running it initially conceived of the pilot as little more than a passenger in a capsule. Meanwhile, the test pilots in the high desert were flying rocket planes to altitudes that required the same skills as a spacecraft, such as control of attitude jets since the air was too thin – or nonexistent – for the plane’s control surfaces to work as the plane had crossed the boundary into space. Despite these achievements, the astronauts captured the public’s imagination and eventually succeeded in using their public positions to regain some of their status as pilots, though the heady days of Mercury did not last into the Gemini and Apollo programs, where spaceflight became more routine as astronauts were longer regaled as Single Combat Warriors.

The style and success of Wolfe’s book ensured its adaptation and Hollywood has done so twice, first in Philip Kaufman’s 1983 film and again in the 2020 television series from National Geographic. This Vintage Classics copy is a nice paperback edition with a great pop-art cover and an introduction from Astronaut Scott Kelly that helps to capture of the legacy of The Right Stuff. Something appears to have gone wrong during the formatting process, however, as there are several typographical errors throughout the book (extraneous letters jumbled in the middle of words, words divided by a hyphen as if they were meant to be split between two lines, and multiple instances of the number 1 in place of an “l” or an “I”). These occur often enough to be noticeable, but thankfully Wolfe’s narrative is engrossing and makes up for it. show less

You might have seen the film based on this book, which I loved, but I think I loved the book--a very different creature--even more. I should say up front I'm a big fan of space exploration, the kind of person who has read a bookshelf worth of stuff by and about astronauts, flight controllers, the engineers and builders of space craft. So you might say I was predisposed to like a book on the seven Mercury astronauts--the first Americans to go into space. On the other hand, as someone who has read voraciously on this subject, it also means a lot that I'd put this particular book at the top of the class.

Tom Wolfe is not just a great journalist, but a fine novelist (Bonfire of the Vanities) and it shows in this. The book has a literary show more style, and uses techniques that in lesser hands might cause me to think "pretentious hack." Paragraphs that go on forever, staccato sentences interspersed with long, long run on sentences, repeated phrases such as "ziggurat," and yes, "the Right Stuff." There's even passages, especially one at the end about Chuck Yeager, that use the stream of consciousness technique. These are the sorts of things that in reviews often bring out rants from me, but here works. For one, it's a very readable style--in fact a blast to read. He conveyed scientific and technical niceties and did so lucidly but never tediously. There's a rhythm to his prose, it's conversational in tone, not what I'd call folksy exactly, but breezy, at times gossipy and with plenty of humor. Here's a paragraph that encapsulates a lot of Wolfe's subject and style:

As to just what this ineffable quality was... well, it obviously involved bravery. But it was not bravery in the simple sense of being willing to risk your life. The idea seemed to be that any fool could do that, if that was all that was required, just as any fool could throw away his life in the process. No, the idea here (in the all-enclosing fraternity) seemed to be that a man should have the ability to go up in a hurtling piece of machinery and put his hide on the line and then have the moxie, the reflexes, the experience, the coolness, to pull it back in the last yawning moment—and then go up again the next day, and the next day, and every next day, even if the series should prove infinite—and, ultimately, in its best expression, do so in a cause that means something to thousands, to a people, a nation, to humanity, to God. Nor was there a test to show whether or not a pilot had this righteous quality. There was, instead, a seemingly infinite series of tests. A career in flying was like climbing one of those ancient Babylonian pyramid made up of a dizzy progression of steps and ledges, a ziggurat, a pyramid extraordinarily high and steep; and the idea was to prove at every food of the way up that pyramid that you were one of the elected and anointed ones who had the right stuff and could move higher and higher and even—ultimately, God willing, one day—that you might be able to join that special few at the very top, that elite who had the capacity to bring tears to men’s eyes, the very Brotherhood of the Right Stuff itself. show less

I first read this book about 20 years ago when I was really obsessed with space and convinced that I would one day become an astronaut. The former of those two things has not changed, but I've become much more realistic about the almost zero chance of the latter. I wanted to re-read this book and see how I'd feel now that I'm a pilot and also now that I just have 20 years more life under my belt in general.

I recall having really loved this book, and I still really loved this book. It's easy to read, and it's fun to read. I had a hard time putting it down and got resentful of my hairdresser for being ready for me early when I hadn't finished reading a sentence yet. The story of the origins of the space program are compelling, I found show more myself rooting for all of the test pilots and astronauts in this story, and feeling suspense about events that happened so many years ago that the outcomes are common knowledge (at least for space nerds such as myself).

However (you all knew that word was coming), I know that any narrative interpretation of the early space program (this book is mostly about the Mercury project with emphasis on the first few flights, and some narrative on the X-1 and X-15/X-20 projects) is going to be colored with bias, incomplete information, and just plain old story telling. This is no exception. Other reviewers lambast Wolfe for his biased takes on some of the astronauts. I do not take this book to be gospel truth, but a literary interpretation of the events that happened. More importantly, this book is a literary interpretation of the inner workings of test pilots and the first astronauts, hence the title: The Right Stuff.

I have to say, I hate The Right Stuff attitude. The FAA has literally defined some hazardous attitudes (such things that can and probably will get you into a possibly life-threatening situation when you're behind the stick and rudder of an aircraft) and two of them are: "macho" and "invulnerability." Sound familiar? Not to mention the toxic masculinity that kept (and continues to keep) women away from aviation and the space program that also caused and continues to cause problems for men. (What does it say about you as a man if you can't make it to the top of that pyramid? Or even half way up? That can't be a fun way to view your worth as a human.)

I don't fault the book for being about The Right Stuff. It is what it is, I don't hate the book, I just hate the culture that idolizes and worships harmful stereotypes and attitudes. I don't even think that Wolfe idolizes and glorifies this Right Stuff attitude as much as he just spelled out the way things were, and that's just the way things were. I'm grateful that we're (slowly) moving away from such a flawed outlook toward the understanding that people are humans and we are what we are. show less

Summary: The Space Race is often remembered in hagiographical terms. The truth of the matter is much more messy and interesting. Early American space exploration was done by a group of nameless engineers and memorable pilots who often had competing goals. The pilots lived according to a code of manliness that judged everyone by their ability to live on the edge of experimentation/insanity. This was the right stuff. The greatest rose to the pinnacle of the ziggurat.

Pros: The author understands manliness and the American psyche as well as anyone. Wolfe's style is unbelievably readable and unique. It is a joy to read.

Cons: At times, the book bogs down though rarely.

Evaluation: This is a gripping tale of the brave and the bold. I thoroughly show more enjoyed this. It is good history; it is a better psychology; it is a great American tale. show less

No better book has been written about flying or the space race. Tom Wolfe has what it takes, the bubbling enthusiasm and critical eye, to write properly about astronauts. The Right Stuff is about endurance, guts, reflexes, a cool head, and giant titanium testicles. It's about going up day after day in high performance jets that are trying their level best to kill you-and statistically will kill 23% of pilots in peacetime-and pushing them to the edge of the envelope and beyond. It's about sitting at home, waiting for a call or a knock on the door, saying that your husband's plane is lost and the man you love is nothing more than charred meat. It's Flying & Drinking and Drinking & Driving and Dicing with Death and doing anything to climb show more the pure pyramid of macho essence.

Most of us don't live in this world, but Wolfe reconstructs how for a few years in the early 60s, with the mighty and infallible Soviet Chief Designer beating the pants out of the American space program, the Mercury Seven became Cosmic Knights, Single Combat Champions of Truth, Justice, and the American Way, and the entire nation became caught up in the saga of The Right Stuff. Wolfe records the contradictions and absurdities of the fighter pilot lifestyle, and how they became tied up with America and the space race, with the utmost respect and tenderness. show less

The Right Stuff (1979) by Tom Wolfe. This is a seminal work for understanding the early days of NASA and the fledgling astronaut program. Mercury 7 was the project and only a handful of men (forget about equal rights for women in that age) were needed to act as crew for the tiny capsule. It was decided that each candidate had to have hundreds of hours of flight time, preferably a preponderance of combat missions included, but piloting in as many situations as possible, so the bosses at NASA turned to the military to supply the cool, calm and collected flyers needed. Beyond being overly qualified, physically fit, intelligent (unsaid was photogenic but that didn’t hurt) and personable, they had to have that mythical quality called the show more RIGHT STUFF.
Just what that quality was is hard to define. It falls into the category of “I can’t tell you what it is, but I’ll know it when I see it.” Call it guts, moxie, true grit or nerves of steel, the man had to have all of these qualities and the ability to act as if he wasn’t overly concerned that what he was about to do just might kill him.
Test pilots from each branch of the military were sought as they proved almost on a daily basis that they were able to face bad odds of survival in their job but could “soldier on” despite the threat.
Tom Wolfe brilliantly captured the feel of the time, the humanness of the entire NASA world, the lives of the astronauts and their families, and the fear and wonder that most Americans, not to mention the entire world, felt during this time. It was an age where little boys stared in wonder at the “7” and dreamed of being just like them.
But this is not just an ode to the times and the people inhabiting them, this is an exhilarating ride into the future. Every line of prose is a small slingshot hurtling you into what for the ones living it would be an exciting adventure.
This feels like it is more than a book. It is an experience. The Right Stuff manages to capture the sights and sounds, the feel, even the odors of the late 50’s and early 60’s while leading the reader willingly by the hand into something more than just a reading experience. For those who lived through that time, remembering fondly as a teacher wheeled a carted TV into the classroom so the kids could see a Blast Off (later softened to the less terrifying Lift Off) this is an incitement to reflect on those hallowed days. For younger readers it is an accurate look into the guts and glory, the fear and fortitude of the few who had The Right Stuff. Perhaps new readers to the book will reflect on what the older generations went through and maybe think more of them.
When you read this book, and you should read it at least once, keep in mind Wolfe did his best to capture the humble bravado of all the candidates. It was’t until well into the testing program to get into this elite flight crew that any of the flyers knew what they had signed up for, knowing only that the best of the best were going to be selected. Hundreds were pulled into the testing, but only seven came out the other side.
The times are painted a bit with a clean brush, but it is the included details that hold the true story. From the high Californian desert of Chuck Yeager and the Air Force’s experimental testing facility, to Coco Beach and the actual rockets that would hopefully thrust each individual into space, to Houston home of the Manned Flight Center, the details are astonishing yet this book is not about the mechanics but the people who made it happen.
If you can’t read the book, at least see the movie. While it is nowhere near the thrilling experience of the book, it is excellent also. show less