14 of 100: Korolev

If you don't know who Sergei Pavlovich Korlev was, you should. He was the mastermind behind the rockets of the Soviet space effort, the man responsible for Sputnik. It was his efforts that kept the Soviets ahead in the space race until his death in 1966. This would be remarkable enough on its own, but his story becomes still more remarkable when you realize that he survived being denounced and consigned to the Stalinist gulag, only to be rehabilitated and ultimately become integral to rocket and missile design efforts under Stalin. And he did all this in the utmost secrecy- his contributions to history were not publicly acknowledged until after his death.

Born into simple circumstances in what is now the Ukraine, Korolev's parents split up when he was only three. He would not learn that his father had not died at this time until late in his life. He was raised at his grandparents', and developed an early fascination with aeronautics. He studied aeronautics at university and became involved in aircraft design and then in rocket development in the early 1930s. But it looked like his career would be short- he was denounced to the NKVD by colleagues (under duress, it should be noted) during the Great Purge, tortured in Lubyanka (injuries he sustained at this time would affect him the rest of his life and contributed to his early death), and sentenced to 10 years' labor in the gulag, and shipped off to eastern Siberia.

Fortunately for both Korolev and history, when Beria took over the NKVD, he chose to retry Korolev on lesser charges, and Korolev was brought back to Moscow, where he was still in prison, but this time a 'sharashka'- a prison for scientists and engineers, where he and his fellow inmates were kept working on projects for the state. His imprisonment, along with that of engineers such as his mentor Tupolev and rival Glushko, and the execution of still more, set Soviet aerospace development back significantly, leaving them at a disadvantage compared to Nazi Germany, where rocket development was supported by the military and engineers such as Von Braun received a high degree of autonomy and protection from military officials.

Korolev was discharged from prison in 1944, though not officially rehabilitated until 1957. But at the close of the war, he was heavily involved in Soviet rocket efforts and played a role in bringing German rocket plan and engineers back to the Soviet Union after Germany's surrender. He spent the rest of his life working first on missiles, and then as the publicly unknown but enormously important Chief Designer in charge of Soviet space efforts. He was a driving taskmaster and something of a perfectionist, but he pushed his subordinates no harder than he pushed himself, keeping a grueling schedule that impacted his health. While he recieved medals and honors for his role in private, the paranoid Soviet leadership did not acknowledge him publicly until after his death at age 59 due to complications from surgery. Ultimately, his punishing schedule and injuries from his torture by the NKVD both contributed to his death (doctors were unable to intubate him for surgery due to jaw injuries he had sustained, and he had been warned for years that he had a weak heart and a kidney disorder caused by his time in detention.)

The book was an excellent look at Korolev, relying heavily on Soviet sources (not widely available at the time the book was written in the early 1990s), both official accounts as well as interviews with those who knew him. If it suffers from a flaw, it is that the author is perhaps too eager to quote these sources in full and at length. Also, at times it is tricky to remember if one is reading an account of the Soviet space program, or a biography of the man running it- it is almost as if the author got caught up with the former only to realize shortly before Korolev's death that he must return to the latter, as the man's time was cut short.

15 of 100: London Under

I'm always reluctant to give negative reviews, but London Under was a disappointment. I know Peter Ackroyd's other work on London, so I know he's capable of writing engaging history. This, however, is not history so much as a jumbled collection of literary essays about the history of sub-surface London. I am not sure whether to blame the author or the publishers for the misimpression the title and jacket inevitably give a potential reader, but it is highly annoying. I might still have read the book had I known, but my expectations would have been different, and perhaps the review would have been as well- though the lack of organization would still have been irritating.

That said, there are a few interesting nuggets buried in the wittering. There is mention of Roman and pre-Roman ruins, many sadly destroyed by the Victorians in their building blitz, and talk about the lost rivers of London. (Holborn Viaduct makes so much more sense when you realize there used to be an actual need for a bridge there, since Farringdon Street is where the Fleet River used to run.) Of course, there's also some ridiculous foolishness, such as the author maundering trying to make out that the Tube is somehow eerie or mysterious, when as anyone who has used it can attest, it's very much not. (Not even late at night when the stations are mostly deserted or early of a Sunday morning, when one may find one has even Zone 1 stations like Bank or Tottenham Court Road largely to oneself.)

P365.5r, Day 39

Untitled, a photo by grundy12 on Flickr.

After yesterday's glut of photo ops, today, I was lucky to get just this one.