Book Review on Orbital by Samantha Harvey

Reading Orbital by Samantha Harvey was a bizarrely wonderful experience for me. By the time I finished the first half, I was utterly blown away. In fact, I couldn’t stop talking about it—I raved to all my friends and family that it was the best book I’d ever come across. The language was utterly exquisite, with every paragraph offering stunning imagery, beautifully constructed sentences, and intensely thoughtful, profound ideas. It felt as though I was unwrapping the most incredible Christmas gifts, one perfect paragraph after another, each more dazzling than the last. By the time I’d finished reading, though, I didn’t feel quite the same. More to come, but let’s say that I am glad that it was short!

Set aboard a fictional space station reminiscent of the International Space Station, the novel follows six astronauts from different nations as they live and work in the close confines of orbit. The crew consists of Shaun (USA), Pietro (Italy), Anton and Roman (Russia), Chie (Japan), and Nell (Great Britain). Each character brings their own perspectives, histories, and emotional depth as we reveal their stories. Yet, as they interact and perform their duties, they almost seem to merge into one.

Over time, the astronauts’ differences begin to blur, and their lives take on an almost dreamlike synchronicity, with parallel dreams and experiences that they don’t even realize they are sharing. At one point, the novel portrays the characters as different facets of a single person, suggesting that each astronaut represents a distinct aspect of the human psyche. Chie describes how “they are choreographing the movements and functions of the ship’s body as it enacts its perfect choreography of the planet… Anton [is] the ship’s heart, Pietro its mind, … Nell … its breath” and so on. I’ll readily admit I found this metaphor, where the individual identities seem to merge into a collective consciousness, difficult! I think it represents their unity, despite their individuality, and also their separateness from everyone they’ve left behind on Earth. It feels like a reminder of how fragile life is—both in space and on Earth. The distance and closeness to Earth and the people they’ve left behind create an ephemeral, otherworldly quality to their existence—both tethered to and adrift from the world below.

Orbiting Earth at an altitude of approximately 250 miles, the station completes 16 orbits every 24 hours. Each chapter focuses on one of these orbits, delving into a different character’s perspective and exploring an aspect of life on the space station. From the humorous (but true, inspired by real-life scenarios) tensions of Russian and American astronauts being unable to share the same toilets or tools, to moments of almost transcendental beauty as the crew witnesses the northern lights or the stark boundary between night and day, the novel captures both the surreal and the profoundly human. The steady, rhythmic movement of the space station offers the astronauts unparalleled views of the planet—a constant reminder of its fragile beauty and interconnectedness.

Despite finding the book difficult, I was so captivated by the premise of living for an extended stretch of time in space that I had to research how the space station operates. I discovered that the author began writing during the COVID pandemic—I think—worried she might not know enough about space research to do it justice, which is definitely not the case. I learned plenty about eating floating food, why crumbs are a no-go, how to take a pee, and how even tears need to be caught because of the unpredictable way fluid behaves in microgravity. Sentimentality being one of Shaun’s character traits, this mattered. In the novel, though, while these things are touched on, like everything else—even the characters’ personalities—it all feels ephemeral, transient, and insubstantial rather than developed and expanded upon. I think this is kind of the point!

As I said, I described Orbital as a “bizarrely wonderful” experience, captivated by its exquisite language and profound insights. However, as I delved deeper into the narrative, I found myself growing a little weary of the intense concentration it demanded. If I’m honest, I got a little bit bored. I had been fascinated by the philosophical questions of the “everythingness” and “nothingness” of life—its ultimate importance and insignificance—and the unworldliness of living in a very sophisticated tin can that both highlights and questions our transient, changing selves. But eventually, the concept of blurred characters became a tad dull; while I was intrigued by Pietro’s indifference toward his wife and his concern for his fisherman friends amid the typhoon, and I was curious about a potential relationship involving the American astronaut, the specifics became hazy. This, for me, was a negative and made the book a bit monotonous in parts. Having said that, it did win the Booker, so I think it’s probably me, not the book!

In summary, Samantha Harvey’s Orbital begins with a truly stunning display of literary brilliance, its first half alive with breathtaking imagery and profound ideas. But as it progresses, its demanding prose and the intertwining of its characters challenged me, and I lost engagement. For those willing to navigate its complexities, however, Orbital offers a fascinating, thought-provoking journey through space, not just once, but sixteen times.