Falling Upwards: How We Took to the Air

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**Kirkus Best Books of the Year (2013)**
**Time Magazine 10 Top Nonfiction Books of 2013**
**The New Republic Best Books of 2013**

In this heart-lifting chronicle, Richard Holmes, author of the best-selling The Age of Wonder, follows the pioneer generation of balloon aeronauts, the daring and enigmatic men and women who risked their lives to take to the air (or fall into the...

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Falling Upwards: How We Took to the Air

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**Kirkus Best Books of the Year (2013)**
**Time Magazine 10 Top Nonfiction Books of 2013**
**The New Republic Best Books of 2013**

In this heart-lifting chronicle, Richard Holmes, author of the best-selling The Age of Wonder, follows the pioneer generation of balloon aeronauts, the daring and enigmatic men and women who risked their lives to take to the air (or fall into the sky). Why they did it, what their contemporaries thought of them, and how their flights revealed the secrets of our planet is a compelling adventure that only Holmes could tell.
His accounts of the early Anglo-French balloon rivalries, the crazy firework flights of the beautiful Sophie Blanchard, the long-distance voyages of the American entrepreneur John Wise and French photographer Felix Nadar are dramatic and exhilarating. Holmes documents as well the balloons used to observe the horrors of modern battle during the Civil War (including a flight taken by George Armstrong Custer); the legendary tale of at least sixty-seven manned balloons that escaped from Paris (the first successful civilian airlift in history) during the Prussian siege of 1870-71; the high-altitude exploits of James Glaisher (who rose) seven miles above the earth without oxygen, helping to establish the new science of meteorology); and how Mary Shelley, Edgar Allan Poe, and Jules Verne felt the imaginative impact of flight and allowed it to soar in their work.
A seamless fusion of history, art, science, biography, and the metaphysics of flights, Falling Upwards explores the interplay between technology and imagination. And through the strange allure of these great balloonists, it offers a masterly portrait of human endeavor, recklessness, and vision.

(With 24 pages of color illustrations, and black-and-white illustrations throughout.)

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Editorial Reviews

From Barnes & Noble

In his award-winning The Age of Wonder, Richard Holmes thrilled us with an evocation of the Romantic era's romance with science. Now his new book takes us metaphorically into the sky, propelling us on a thrilling, eye-opening jaunt through the history of hot-air ballooning. Falling Upwards is nothing like a static, tethered look from upstairs; instead, it guides through revolutionary high-altitude ascents that take us into the history of invention, science, photography, exploration, and even literature and warfare. The perfect takeoff for the Fall season.

The New York Times Book Review - Paul Elie
…[when] Holmes moves squarely into the 19th century…the book takes flight, bringing to mind the adjectives (brilliant, ardent, glorious) affixed to his other work. In reading, I went from wondering whether stories of ballooning could carry a history to wondering why these stories aren't better known…Writing about these "mariners of the…atmosphere," Holmes is expertly at play on his home ground…The stories themselves are remarkable.
Publishers Weekly
Mesmerized by the dash and eccentricity of many who have flown balloons since the first Montgolfiers of 1783, Holmes (The Age of Wonder) communicates the perilous delight of ballooning through tales of scientific feats and derring-do. Fearless, reckless French aeronaut Sophie Blanchard delighted both Napoleon and restored Bourbon King Louis XVIII as she released nighttime aerial firework displays and executed complicated acrobatics while standing, exposed, in a tiny silver gondola. (In 1819, thousands watched horrified as Blanchard, aged 41, crashed to her death in a fiery descent from the Paris sky.) Although New Hampshirite Thaddeus Lowe’s dreams of transatlantic balloon flight were cut short by the Civil War, he persuaded Lincoln that a balloon could carry telegraph equipment and send direct aerial observations to a commander on the ground; and “one of Lowe’s most brilliant observational coups” was the discovery of the Confederates’ May 1862 secret evacuation of Yorktown under cover of darkness. British meteorologist James Glaisher (1809–1903) attempted to determine how high a man could fly before he was “asphyxiated, frozen, burnt or even electrocuted by static electricity in high clouds.” An unconventional history of ballooning, this quirky, endearing, and enticing collection melds the spirit of discovery with chemistry, physics, engineering, and the imagination. Illus. (Oct.)
From the Publisher
**Kirkus Best Books of the Year (2013)**
**Time Magazine Top 10 Nonfiction Books of 2013**
**The New Republic Best Books of 2013**

“Holmes has written a book that is as compulsively digestible as the Internet, and yet it is rounder and warmer, and packed with more facts and obscure stories than you would learn if you combed the Web for months. Holmes’s writing is a carnival of historical delights; at every turn there is a surprise, all adding up to a whole…. ‘Falling Upwards’ sneaks the trajectory of mankind into under three hundred and fifty pages, which you can read in short dashes. You may not notice it at the time, but what he is doing is changing the game.” —Rachel Syme, The New Yorker

“…the book that gave me the most unadulterated delight this year was nonfiction, Richard Holmes’s Falling Upwards: How We Took to the Air. The book is nominally a history of the hot air balloon, but it would be more accurate to describe it as a history of hope and fantasy—and the quixotic characters who disobeyed that most fundamental laws of physics and gave humans flight.” —Chloe Schama, The New Republic, Best Books of 2013

“Out of an ostensibly placid, dreamy activity, hot air ballooning, Holmes conjures an extraordinarily vivid, violent, thrilling history, full of bizarre personalities, narrow escapes and fatal plunges. A peerless prose artist, infectiously curious, Holmes revives such forgotten heroes as Sophie Blanchard, Napoleon’s official aeronaut, and James Glaisher, who in 1862 rode a balloon to 29,000 feet without oxygen in the name of science, and Thaddeus Lowe, who flew over Civil War battlefields, doing aerial reconnaissance for the Union” —Time Magazine, Top 10 Nonfiction Books of the 2013

“A book as delightful as it is unexpected, one that is a testament to the sheer pleasures of writing about what you know, about what excites you and what gives you joy. And what more joyous a topic than the hilarious insanities of ‘Falling upwards’!.... Richard Holmes’s extraordinary cabinet of drifting aerial wonderment, a book that will linger and last, as it floats ever upward in the mind.” —Simon Winchester, The Wall Street Journal

“No writer alive and working in English today writes better about the past than Holmes….The stories themselves are remarkable.” —Paul Elie, The New York Times Book Review
“Throughout his book, Holmes’ love for the balloon (a ‘mixture of power and fragility in constant flux’ is his description for it) is obvious. It’s a fine addition to his already extraordinary oeuvre.” —Mark Gamin, Cleveland Plain Dealer
“British biographer Holmes’ passion for the topic comes through in this rich and often entertaining chronicle of intrepid vertical explorers who risked (and in many cases lost) their lives lifting human flight out of the realm of mythology and into the air.” —Braenna Draxler, Discover
“Holmes is a charming and impassioned guide…his prose often reaches a moving pitch.” —Tom Beer, Newsday

“An unconventional history of ballooning, this quirky, endearing, and enticing collection melds the spirit of discovery with chemistry, physics, engineering, and the imagination.” —Publishers Weekly

“Gripping…Meticulous history illuminated and animated by personal passion, carried aloft by volant prose.” —Kirkus  

“In the same month that Julian Barnes published Levels of Life, with its melancholy meditations on balloon flight, Richard Holmes presents a full-blown, lyrical history of the same subject, investigating the strangeness, detachment and powerful romance of ‘falling upwards’ into a seemingly alien and uninhabitable element. Holmes lovingly charts a course from the Montgolfier brothers’ first hydrogen-fuelled flights in the 1780s to the use of balloons by fugitive East Germans in the 1970s and the latest forays by polar explorer David Hempleman-Adams, a history full of awe and inefficiency…Holmes is a truly masterly storyteller .” —London Evening Standard

“Ballooning was among the numerous bold scientific adventures outlined in Holmes’s multi-award-winning best seller, The Age of Wonder. Here Holmes details its history and consequences, starting in the late 1700s and proceeding to the seven-mile-high flights of James Glaisher, FRS, which launched the new science of meteorology.” —Library Journal

“(Holmes) has a rare and infectious capacity for wonderment…dazzling…I felt I was flying—with the sensations of hilarity, ecstasy and terror that are rightly provoked by our escape from gravity…while I was reading Holmes’s heady, swoopingly, aerodynamic book.” —The Observer
“Richard Holmes’s captivating and surely definitive history of the madness of pre-Wright brothers ballooning.” —The Times
“This is a book in which the delight the author clearly took in researching and writing it carries over to the reader…puckish is its pleasure in its details and in its gusts of digression…he has a lovely wit and ease of address…above all what Holmes teases out…is the very interesting idea that ballooning gave us, quite literally, a different point of view….it offers a wholly novel experience of sublimity…This exhilarating book, wonderfully written, generously illustrated and beautifully published, captures all that and more.” —The Spectator
“In this charming, witty and insightful account of windblown ideas and adventures Holmes succeeds neatly in matching his form to his subject.” —Sunday Telegraph
“It is a tragic tale, punctuated with ghastly accidents, but thanks to Holmes’s enthusiasm and eager curiosity it remains valiantly airborne.” —Sunday Times
“enthralling, picaresque history…Holmes cuts his thrilling set-pieces with haunting images…Appropriately his prose is lighter than air elegantly traversing aviators and eras. It means that as his balloonists embark on journeys full of danger and wonder the reader is suspended in the basket alongside them.” —Financial Times
“Endlessly exhilarating…FALLING UPWARDS is packed full of swashbuckling stories, as well as fascinating historical accounts of the use of balloons…It is also a singularly beautiful book, wonderfully designed and illustrated and quite clearly a product of love.” —Mail on Sunday
“his enthusiasm is one of the book’s many pleasures…it is hard not to discern something similarly joyous in this second-hand account (of ballooning narratives)…a spirited work.” —The Economist
“(Richard Holmes’s) wonderful history of the early years of ballooning.” —Daily Telegraph
“Beautifully written and lovingly researched.” —Country Life
“Holmes is a distinguished biographer with a fine sense of how individual lives reflect and redirect the larger forces that flow through and around them…the aeronauts of the heroic age …seem glamorous and admirable in their pursuit of knowledge, fame, fortune, military superiority and sheer excitement.” —The Guardian

“Full of surprises….a book to seek out.” —Toby Lester, American Scholar Review
“The human drama…is marvelously handled. Holmes is an astute biographer, and has already shown with The Age of Wonder…that he can write about multiple subjects just as well as he can about an individual….He has made a subtle and captivating whole of this series of aerial adventures.” —Lily Ford, TLS

Library Journal
★ 09/01/2013
The balloon's pivotal role as the first form of flying technology has often been overlooked. Holmes (biographical studies, Univ. of East Anglia), the formerly self-described "romantic biographer" (e.g., Coleridge) who moved to the history of science with his previous book The Age of Wonder has brought romance to technological discovery in his latest work. The balloon, which played a minor role in The Age of Wonder, soars to new heights as the sole subject here. The author's own love of aerostats and aerostation (Holmes's favorite word for "ballooning") shines through in the buoyancy of his text. His daring and dramatic stories of the history of balloon bravado, even when tragic, catch the spirit of wonder that these "hanging observation basket[s]" brought to 19th-century scientific dreamers, from Edgar Allan Poe to French photographer Nadar to English meteorologist James Glaisher. The balloon provided an aerial platform for spectacular acrobatic stunts, as well as for the first aerial photograph of Paris. Holmes also shows how, in addition to playing a vital role in two major wars, balloons have flown across the Atlantic and even sought to reach (unsuccessfully) the North Pole. VERDICT This title will be a fascinating read for anyone interested in flighty expeditionary history, and it's likely to fly off many library shelves. [See Prepub Alert, 4/15/13.]—Lara Jacobs, Brooklyn
Kirkus Reviews
The biographer of two great Romantics (Shelley and Coleridge) relates yet another romantic tale--the story of the human passion to fly up, up and away in a beautiful balloon. Holmes (The Age of Wonder: The Romantic Generation and the Discovery of the Beauty and Terror of Science, 2009, etc.) begins with a memory--a flying dream from childhood--mentions Daedalus and Icarus, some balloons in literature, films and popular culture, and then lifts off into another of his delightfully soaring histories. He notes that the French were the first to use balloons for military purposes (reconnaissance), then tells us about some of the most notable balloon pioneers, including André-Jacques Garnerin, who also pioneered parachutes. Holmes focuses on the accomplishments (and failures) of a number of other principals, including Charles Green (many of his flights lifted off from Vauxhall Gardens), Henry Mayhew, Eugène Godard, John Wise, James Glaisher, Camille Flammarion, Gaston Tissandier and Salomon Andrée, whose attempt to reach the North Pole in 1897 ended in death for all aboard his vessel. Holmes reminds us of ballooning in the fictions of Mary Shelley, Edgar Allan Poe, Jules Verne, Mark Twain (whose Tom Sawyer Abroad reunited the Huck-Jim-Tom trio for a flight across the Atlantic) and others. He tells, as well, about spectacular failures--crashes, fatal and otherwise. His two most gripping segments are the airlift from Paris during the Franco-Prussian War (1870-1871)--dozens of flights took mail and other dispatches out of the city during the siege--and the assault on the North Pole. One great irony regarding the latter: The aeronauts, on the ground after the balloon could no longer fly, shot and ate polar bears; later, the bears ate them. Meticulous history illuminated and animated by personal passion, carried aloft by volant prose.
The Barnes & Noble Review

It started with a bunch of Frenchmen and a lot of hot air. Still and sparkling wines figured prominently. It wasn't long before leggy women were seen in the vicinity. There was danger and romance, and great displays of fireworks. This kind of fun never dies, but an end-of-the-pier seediness soon crept into the proceedings, a sideshow atmosphere, no matter how legitimate the enthusiasts tried to paint the picture. Then Otto von Bismarck became involved and it all went to hell in a basket -- or, idiomatically speaking, hell in a gondola. Not the kind that gets punted about the canals of Venice but the kind that hangs precariously from a really big balloon rising into the fickle sky.

The human dream of flight found its first documented success in a bag of smoke, in Paris, at the inspiration of the Montgolfier brothers. Mind you, the Chinese were launching paper lanterns into the sky 2,000 years before (and you know how one thing leads to another), and there is speculation that someone somehow hoisted aloft -- maybe with the aid of a balloon -- helped in reckoning the Nazca Lines. But Paris is where the always gratifying and trailblazing biographer Richard Holmes starts Falling Upwards, his chromatic if elegiac history of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century ballooning. Holmes, who specializes in the Romantic era's literary and scientific ferment, has found plenty of romance in the subject, as well as bare-knuckle experimentation, boneheaded daredevilry, and good old tomfoolery.

So there we are in France, and soon enough in Great Britain and the United States, where this new contrivance is making a splash, mostly as an oddity. Still, as the balloonists rose higher and higher, it was an oddity that gave its riders a fresh view of the world, one of those ooh-aah moments like William Anders's photograph "Earthrise," taken from the dark side of the moon. There in the gondola you experienced the quickening of perilous delight, like John Muir climbing way up a tall tree in a storm to get a raw taste of nature -- only without the tree. Balancing the rapture was the sobering spectacle of the human impact on the surface of the earth, especially conspicuous as the Industrial Revolution began to leave its mark with sprawling satanic mills and ghastly red flames belching from furnaces, the filth of progress. Hydrogen and coal gas allowed even more altitude, up to a place less inviting and more frightening, endless and empty, and freezing cold. Pass the brandy.

Both those on the ground and in the air were thrilled. For spectators below, it was showtime: trapeze artists for whom a net was worthless, parachutists, night ascents accompanied by pyrotechnics -- or the whole balloon catching St. Elmo's fire, a phosphorescent sparkling of static electricity. Above, there was the Prussian blue of the deep sky, the aural tapestry of the countryside, the dazzle of flying over a city at night -- the blue, green, purple, and crimson lights of London signaling gin palaces, taverns, apothecaries, and brothels -- the silent entry into prismatic clouds. The imagery is powerful, even transcendent; describing it is as slippery as quicksilver, easily turning saccharine and losing all its transporting energy. But Holmes brings an artful, knowing hand to the otherworldliness of the experiences, letting them spark here and there; mostly, they give off a glow.

The lighter-than-air vehicles also had their practical aspects, though they were fleeting. Napoleon used them for observation platforms, and they served as a morale-boosting mail service during the Prussian siege of Paris. The Union deployed a number of balloons during the American Civil War, but the Confederacy had only one in its arsenal. "This remarkable balloon was said to be extraordinarily beautiful, and piloted with fantastic and cavalier daring.... It was composed of a shimmering mass of multicolored silk, supposedly sewn up in homely patchwork fashion from dozens of gorgeous silk ballroom dresses." It leaked gas, but not ingenuity. As a conveyance, balloons were eclipsed by railroads, which were more commodious; and in delivering news, the telegraph was speedier. Neither, however, could touch the balloon when it came to vertical exploration. In this realm, the balloon cuts a dash, as does Holmes as a yarn spinner.

Here is where some of the best stories reside in a book full of good ones. The atmosphere remained aeris incognita, so the British Association of the Advancement of Science decided to put the science back in ballooning and financed a number of excursions to collect data on cloud density, atmospheric electricity, oxygenation, and the solar spectrum. In an earlier incident, French balloonists had reached an altitude that forced the balloon's envelope downward as the rest of the contraption continued to rise, squashing the balloonists in their basket and rendering them unconscious. They awoke, in one piece, nestled in a vineyard of champagne grapes. By far the best nail-biter has two Englishmen, in 1862, ascending so high (perhaps to as much as 37,000 feet) so fast that their eyesight blurred, their breath shortened, and their muscles lost power: first the arms and legs, then the neck. " 'In looking at the barometer my head fell on my left shoulder,' said one of them. When he tried to straighten it, it fell doll-like onto his right shoulder." Meanwhile the balloon's netting had fouled the gas-release valve, and they kept scooting higher, getting more gaga by the second. Their hands froze and turned black; they lost consciousness time and again. They poured brandy over their hands (and probably over their tongues; booze saved as many ascents as it doomed). They returned with data by the bucketful, though not all their personal digits. Another unforgettable character, from the old school, read his instruments during the nighttime hours by the light "of a little glass jar which he had stocked with glow worms." From this quirky company rose the science of meteorology, the forces and systems that generated weather.

Holmes relishes the whole works: the science; the stunts; the great women aéronautes -- flamboyant, vulnerable, and daring in their champagne-bucket gondolas; the untethered, existential release; the sheer giddiness. He emits an intimate, jubilant buoyancy of his own, ringing clear as a church bell at dawn, flashing with the insight of one who has been there -- as the author has made numerous ascents himself -- and held fast to its sense of serendipity and wonder.

Peter Lewis is the director of the American Geographical Society in New York City. A selection of his work can be found at writesformoney.com.

Reviewer: Peter Lewis

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Product Details

  • ISBN-13: 9781482930313
  • Publisher: Blackstone Audio, Inc.
  • Publication date: 10/28/2013
  • Edition description: Unabridged
  • Product dimensions: 6.40 (w) x 6.10 (h) x 1.20 (d)

Meet the Author

RICHARD HOLMES is the author of The Age of Wonder, which was short-listed for the Samuel Johnson Prize for Non-Fiction, won the Royal Society Prize for Science Books and the National Books Critics Circle Award, and was one of The New York Times Book Review’s Best Books of the Year in 2009. Holmes’s other books include Footsteps, Sidetracks, Shelley: The Pursuit (winner of the Somerset Maugham Award) Coleridge: Early Visions (winner of the1989 Whitbread Book of the Year Award) Coleridge: Darker Reflections (an NBCC finalist), and Dr. Johnson & Mr. Savage (winner of the James Tait Black Prize). He was awarded the OBE in 1992. He lives in England.

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Read an Excerpt

My own flying dream began at a village fete in Norfolk. I was four years old. My uncle, a tall and usually silent RAF pilot, had bought a red party balloon from a charity stall, and tied it to the top button of my aertex shirt. This was my first balloon, and it seemed to have a mind of its own. It was inflated with helium, which is a gas four times lighter than air, though I did not understand this at the time. It pulled mysteriously and insistently at my button. ‘Maybe you will fly,’ my uncle remarked. He led me up a grassy bank so we could look over the whole fete. Below me stretched the little tents, the stalls, the show ring with its bales of straw and small dancing horses. Above me bobbed the big red balloon, gleaming and beautiful, blotting out the sun. It bounced off the top of my head, making a strange springy sound, full of distance. It tugged me impatiently towards the sky, and I began to feel unsteady on my feet. I felt that I was falling – upwards. Then my uncle let go of my hand, and my dream began.
Throughout history, dreamlike stories and romantic adventures have always attached themselves to balloons. Some are factual, some are pure fantasy, many (the most interesting) are a provoking mixture of the two. But some kind of narrative basket always seems to come tantalisingly suspended beneath them. Show me a balloon and I’ll show you a story; quite often a tall one. And very frequently it is a story of courage in the face of imminent catastrophe.
What’s more, all balloon flights are naturally three-act dramas. The First Act is the launch: the human drama of plans, hopes, expectations. The Second Act is the flight itself: the realities, the visions, the possible discoveries. The Final Act is the landing, the least predictable, most perilous part of any ascent, which may bring triumph or disaster or (quite often) farce. The ultimate nature of any particular balloon ascent – a pastoral, a tragedy, a comedy, a melodrama, even a sitcom – is never clear until the balloon is safely back on earth. Sometimes it is not clear even then.
Even the well-known fable of the Cretan engineer Daedalus and his young son Icarus, so oft en retold as the Genesis myth of flying, is curiously ambiguous in its outcome. It appears originally in Book VIII of Ovid’s long poem Metamorphoses, ‘The Transformations’, completed two thousand years ago, around 8 A.D. Having constructed wings for both of them, Daedalus and son launch into the empyrean together, but famously the impetuous Icarus flies too high; the wax joints of his feathered wings melt ‘in the scorching heat of the sun’, and he tumbles down into the sea. Yet this primal legend of flight is more complex than it might appear.
It is often forgotten that in the same Book VIII of Ovid’s poem, Daedalus also has a twelve-year-old nephew (the son of his sister) called Perdix. Perdix is a brilliant and precocious child inventor, loved by all in Crete. But Daedalus, in a crazed fit of grief and jealousy after the death of Icarus, hurls Perdix ‘headlong down from the sacred hill of Minerva’. Yet unlike Icarus, Perdix does not crash to earth and die. Instead, he takes to the air and flies with divine aid: ‘Pallas Athene, the goddess who fosters all talent in art and craft, caught him and turned him, still in midair, to a fluttering bird and covered his body with feathers, so the strength of his quick intelligence sprang into his wings and feet.’ He becomes Perdix, the partridge (perdrix in French), a child who has indeed learned to fly successfully – although unlike Icarus he always remains close to the ground, ‘and does not build his nest in mountain crags’.
What may happen while actually aloft is equally mysterious. Balloons have always given a remarkable bird’s-eye or angel’s-eye view of the world. They are unusual instruments of contemplation, and even speculation. They provide unexpected visions of the earth beneath. To the earliest aeronauts they displayed great natural features like rivers, mountains, forests, lakes, waterfalls, and even polar regions, in an utterly new light. But they also showed human features: the growth of the new industrial cities, the speed and violence of modern warfare, or the expansion of imperial exploration.
Long before the arrival of the aeroplane in the twentieth century, balloons gave the first physical glimpse of a planetary overview. Balloons contributed to the sciences and the arts that first suggested that we are all guests aboard a unified, living world. The nature of the upper air, the forecasting of weather, the evolutions of geology, the development of international communications, the power of propaganda, the creations of science fiction, even the development of extra-terrestrial travel itself, are an integral part of balloon history.
But there are also stranger, existential elements, far less easy to define. The mental release, the physical heart-lift, the calm perilous delight of ballooning – an early aeronaut described it as ‘hilarity’ – is an absolute revelation, but one not easily or convincingly described. I have tried to capture its spirit indirectly, by tying together this cluster of true balloon stories and colourful tales, from the vast ‘history and lore of aerostation’, in the hope that they will bear us aloft for a little while.
While airborne, they may also provide a new perspective. The vulnerable globe of balloon fabric is itself symbolically related to the vulnerable globe of the whole earth. There is some haunting analogy between the silken skin of a balloon, the thin ‘onion skin’ of safety, and the thin atmospheric skin of our whole, beautiful planet as it floats in space. This thin breathable layer of air is not much more than seven miles thick – as balloonists were the first to discover. In every way, balloons make you catch your breath.

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Customer Reviews

Average Rating 2.5
( 3 )
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Sort by: Showing all of 3 Customer Reviews
  • Posted December 18, 2013

    Some pleasant balloon stories, not much scholarship

    Unlike heavier-than-air flight, human transport in balloons posed no great technical hurdles. Take a bag big yet light enough, fill it with hot air, hydrogen, methane or, eventually, helium, affix a basket to stand in and up you go. But where? And why?
    The author of Falling Upwards, Richard Holmes, may have deliberately aimed at mimicking the inherent frivolity and pointlessness of most balloon travel by writing a book, that, except for a rough, overall historical framework, wanders about through dozens of, albeit interesting, vignettes of the many glamorous and some not so glorious balloon adventures. Falling Upwards is Holmes expansion of a chapter from his previous and far better book, The Age of Wonder, in which he deliberately set out to highlight the poetic side of 18th and 19th century scientists. Perhaps Holmes should have left the topic of balloons to that one chapter.
    Falling Upwards is largely devoid of the technical details of the development of balloon flight with more time spent on the poetry of ballooning than on the methodology. The lack of technique begs the question of the ultimate value of all those ballooning efforts. Was there a spinoff? Or was it all just a lark with an occasional veneer of science thrown in order to obtain funding? Is ballooning really how we took to the air, or how the air took us for a ride?
    The author never gets around to the heady days of Zeppelins and there is only passing reference to modern high-altitude balloon ascents. Which is, perhaps, a blessing, since these were little more than stunts as well.
    The book contains both a Bibliography and References, an Index but no Notes, and several illustrations, many in color.
    Richard R. Pardi Environmental Science William Paterson University

    2 out of 2 people found this review helpful.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted April 27, 2014

    Very interesting

    His explains the full history of lighter-than-air flight's infancy. A very good read.

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  • Anonymous

    Posted February 20, 2014



    0 out of 1 people found this review helpful.

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