Packing for Mars: The Curious Science of Life in the Void

For Roach, space is a hostile environment, and survival teeters on the delicate balance of extremes. Too much gravity can crush organs, while too little gravity weakens bones. The cramped confinement of a module can lead to frustration, while the infinity of the expanding universe can evoke an overwhelming anxiety. In general, “Humans don’t belong in space. Everything about us evolved for life on Earth” (58). This statement is not a deterrent to space exploration, but a lens to view the impressive ingenuity and devotion that motivate scientists and astronauts to make the impossible possible.

Roach makes the risks of space travel explicit when she describes the harrowing shockwaves and centrifugal forces that can emulsify organs or sever the brain from the spinal cord. Astronauts travel at literally death-defying speeds and with unknown risks—for instance, scientists are uncertain if the human body can survive prolonged exposure to zero gravity and radiation. Because of these risks and unknowns, Roach applauds the efforts of scientists and volunteers who devote their lives to ensuring astronauts’ safety.

Roach acknowledges Jon Clark’s work in space medicine as a commitment to “protect those bodies, to keep astronauts and space tourists alive, to keep families intact” (259). She interviews volunteers who participated in impact studies at Holloman’s Air Force Base in 1965. Though these men sustained serious injuries, they felt they had contributed to astronaut safety. One volunteer who got a compression injury on three vertebrae commented, “As long as I know this will save our Apollo astronauts from being hurt on their landings I don’t mind losing sleep with a stiff back for a few days” (146). Although Roach finds humor in some of the elaborate simulations, she does not deny the value of safety research.

Roach also applauds the bravery and commitment of the astronauts who endure the physical and psychological challenges of space travel. She commends Alan Shepard’s bravery: He “let himself be strapped in a canister on the nose of a missile and blasted into space: an insanely dangerous feat” (163). She argues that “space is a frustrating and unforgiving environment, and you are trapped in it. If you’re trapped long enough, frustration metastasizes to anger. Anger wants an outlet and a victim” (54). The hostile setting of space breeds a hostile astronaut, and Roach contends that scientists need to focus not solely on how astronauts can survive in space, but also on how they can thrive. Boosting morale and mental health, and destigmatizing motion sickness, are some ways to address the overall well-being of astronauts.

Roach finds the drive to confront the hostility of space and survive in the void both absurd and magnificent. She discovers unexpected beauty on Devon Island, the remote backdrop that simulates the moon and Mars. There, against the stark and rocky landscape, “your eye lands on a hump of moss with tiny red flowers like cupcake sprinkles, and you’re just walloped by the sight. Maybe it’s the unlikely heroics of something so delicate surviving in a place so stingy and hard” (185). Roach later finds a similar sense of charm and wonder when a bumblebee appears from seemingly nowhere. She does not explicitly compare an astronaut to the moss or bee, but all three figures symbolize astonishing resilience and adventure.

Roach does not envision a mission to Mars as an arrogant, colonial enterprise where humans control nature. Rather, she regards the presence of humans on a distant planet as a humbling event, where a minor, insignificant character, who must obey the laws of physics, seeks a new view.