Harare Review of Books

248 pages.

First published May 18, 2023 (University of Chicago Press)

Non-fiction.

This is a fun and immersive book about human fascination with Mars. Shindell’s aim is to draw an arc through history, from ancient times until now, on Mars in our imagination and meaning—from an erratic, eccentric light in the sky, to the relatively known quantity it is now, a rocky, cold planet. He takes readers on a tour from Mayan and Babylonian astrologers, among others, through astronomy in the Middle Ages with Galileo; seventeenth and eighteenth scientist-philosophers like Descartes, Newton, and the Herschels; Pickering, Lowell, and others; writers like Wells, Lasswitz, Wicks, Burroughs, Clarke, Bradbury and Sagan; through to the space race of the 1960s, and the impact of the Cold War on today’s missions.

Space exploration has become much more international in recent times, and Shindell is careful to be as inclusive as possible, where another author might focus all of their attention on the seeming leader in popular imagination, the US. A quote near the beginning of the book explains why:

Of course the “we” of Mars exploration will be construed differently by different readers, and it is my hope that by the conclusion of this book it will be obvious that the “we” should be construed as broadly as possible.

Some questions Shindell helps me answer: Why should I, a Zimbabwean woman, care about Mars exploration? Who is the popular idea of Mars for? Who was it for before? What contributions to the human idea of Mars have come from non-European sources? How has what we imagine Mars to be like changed over time? What books and films have contributed to our imagination about Mars? What is the future of Mars for us: exploration, or habitation? Really, the only question Shindell has not dealt with—perhaps has not been able to—is why the dream of Mars is full of men.

Important to Shindell is Mars in the imaginary, and he makes important points about the language of space missions—frontier, and colonizing new worlds—where he proves eloquent in locating that in recent Earth history. He also talks about the Mars/NASA PR machine, and why Mars continues to loom large for us: an example is how many of us—those who are terminally online—witnessed the death/fading away into the dark on Twitter of Opportunity Rover, which is referred to by Shindell in an excellent chapter about NASA’s exploration missions after Apollo.

This is probably the only non-fiction book on Mars you ever need to read. Certainly, it is one of the best. Although very detailed—which got me a little bogged down when the author dealt with the age of philosophers, Plato, Aristotle, and Ptolemy— it is comprehensive, factual and intellectual, while remaining very accessible. It is an essential and important corrective—more correctly, the beginning of one—for the Eurocentric discourse on Mars. For the Love of Mars is an excellent read, and I highly recommend it.

Thank you to University of Chicago Press and NetGalley for access.

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