Provides a look at the lives of Orville and Wilbur Wright, as seen through the eyes of their younger sister, Katharine, who provided support and encouragement while they worked on their many inventions.

NASA's history is a familiar story, peaking with Neil Armstrong's small step on the Moon in 1969. But America's space agency--and in particular its Apollo lunar-landing program--wasn't created in a vacuum. It was assembled from pre-existing parts, drawing together some of the best minds the non-Soviet world had to offer. In 1930s Germany, rockets were the focus both of scientists hoping to explore space and of the Wehrmacht. These two strands came together in Wernher von Braun, an engineer who designed the rockets that became the devastating V-2. As the war came to its conclusion, von Braun orchestrated a daring escape from the ruins of Nazi Germany to America, where he began developing missiles for the US Army. Ten years later his Redstone rocket was the only one capable of launching a satellite into orbit. Just what that satellite would be was under the remit of the National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics (NACA), which pioneered a round-bottomed capsule that could also keep men safe returning from space. Meanwhile, US Air Force pilots were riding to the fringes of space in balloons to see how humans handled radiation at high altitude, while test pilots like Neil Armstrong flew cutting-edge, rocket-powered aircraft in the thin upper atmosphere. Amy Shira Teitel tells the story of America's nascent space program, its scientific advances, its personalities and the rivalries it caused between the various arms of the United States military, right up to the launch of Sputnik in 1957, when getting a man into space became a national imperative leading to the creation of NASA.--Adapted from book jacket

An entrancing avant-garde adventure at the dawn of the modern age In 1909, municipal authorities built an airfield in northern Italy and invited leading pilots to compete on it. The show attracted thousands of spectators--among them Giacomo Puccini and Gabriele d'Annunzio--and reporters, including, amazingly, Franz Kafka, Max Brod, and Luigi Barzini. Peter Demetz's sparkling new book tells the enchanting story of what happened in the air and on the ground before, during, and after this amazing moment. Kafka, it turns out, was a very precise observer of both the fragile new machines and the people who flocked to see them in action. Demetz shows us the spectacle as Kafka reported it, and also its unexpectedly melodramatic preparations, amazing dirigibles, and ace pilots--the American Glenn Curtiss, the Italian Mario Calderara, and the reigning king of the skies, Louis Blériot. But above all Demetz wants to know what flying really meant to these visionaries of the air: many political and imaginative issues were sent aloft at Brescia. With discerning affection, he elucidates Kafka's subtle ambiguities about the consequences of flight, d'Annunzio's lust for power in aviation, Puccini's enthusiasm for speedy escapes, and Curtiss's modest heroism. Illustrated with fascinating material from the show itself, this provocative work reveals a vital point where art and technology met in imagining the future.