It is a Wednesday. I am at work, on my lunch break, orbiting around the Earth in a spaceship. Rather, I am reading Orbital by Samantha Harvey. But during that lunch hour, I certainly feel transported to outer space.

Despite being a relatively well established writer—this was her sixth published book—Samantha Harvey did not really launch into the public’s consciousness until Orbital was announced on the shortlist of the Booker Prize in 2024, which it then went on to win. It was the first winning title to be set in space. But make no mistake, this is by no means a book which veers into or even towards the genre of science-fiction. Instead, it is a poetic, meandering book concerning six astronauts from across the globe working on the International Space Station. They perform experiments, navigate life on board in zero-gravity surroundings, communicate with their loved ones and take photos of the planet, all while spinning around it 16 times in a single day—the period for which they are observed by the reader. Harvey uses the out-of-this-world vantage point to offer readers a sweeping overview of the world in which they are enjoying the story. Yet this very same out-of-this-world setting feels secondary—Orbital is not a book about space. It is a book about Earth.

Through the eyes and thoughts of these astronauts, we are offered another perspective on humanity and its spherical home. Soaring over the blue planet, they observe various countries through day and night, which are, of course, viewed without the man-made borders usually noticed on a map. At first, this point seems salient and powerful, challenging the arbitrary human concept of nations and patriotic belonging. But by the fourth or fifth time it feels repetitive, not reflective, and basic, not profound; when writing an analysis of mankind set in space, wouldn’t it be one of the first things about which one would write? Harvey evidently wanted to call into question the necessity of the pointless, human constructs which cause division on our home planet. Sadly, with her writing anything but subtle and succinct, she missed the mark. 

Harvey attempts to reinforce this point by showing the close bond formed by the astronauts from distinctively different nations: the UK, Japan, Italy, the US and Russia (particularly emphasising previous Cold War space race tensions between the latter two). But again, the references to their respective countries juxtaposed with descriptions of their extraterrestrial community feels overdone and somehow simultaneously superficial. The one-dimensional nature of the characters doesn’t help at all. Naturally, in a book as short as this, meaningful character development of one protagonist would be difficult, never mind six. But each astronaut is only shallowly explored. They do not read as individuals who have been fundamentally shaped by their home cultures, which ultimately impedes the potency of their symbolic shared kinship. It begs the question: why focus on six astronauts if they are not given the development the book requires? However, in stark contrast to her characters, I found the galactic setting to be vividly imaginable, with Harvey’s poetic and lyrical prose doing a lot of the heavy lifting throughout. Nevertheless, it did leave me wondering: does this mean she is not as capable of capturing reality as she is at lexically dancing around her imagination?  

Before reading this book, I had wondered whether Harvey was inspired by increasingly frequent discussions on space travel and exploration. It seems almost everyone who has somehow made a fortune is interested in sending something into space for some reason (probably in the pursuit of eventually making even more money for their fortune). As I travelled on towards the end of the pages, I found myself craving something in this direction—perhaps a critical reference to NASA’s relentless cosmic investigations or the increasing accessibility of private space travel. Orbital was crying out for something with substance, something bold and relevant. Yet Harvey never broached it. The final scene, wherein the typhoon brewing during the crew’s orbits finally arrives in the Southern Pacific, emotionally captures its devastating impacts and effectively contrasts the calm view of the clouds from space with the unfolding torment in the Philippines and Indonesia. I hoped Harvey would finally take the leap and point a finger at the disgusting contradiction of the billions pumped into the search for new life while thousands of existing lives are forced to suffer in poverty and treacherous conditions. Despite her other points being tragically overdone, she certainly left this one to the imagination, which resounded not only as a missed opportunity, but a careless oversight.

I would have loved to have loved Orbital, but I’d be lying if I said this two-hundred-or-so page novel wasn’t one of the longest reads I’ve tackled this year (and I read East of Eden in March). Usually, any Booker Prize reference printed on a book cover—whether longlisted, shortlisted or winner—is enough to get me on side; I take it as an automatic proof of literary quality, knowing I will be diving into a deliciously challenging read with gorgeous writing. Yet for this winner, the seal of approval of literature’s highest honour was precisely what exacerbated my disappointment; I expected greatness, and I was greeted with this book. My disappointment was exacerbated further by the fact that I had read two of 2024’s shortlisted books, James by Percival Everett and The Safekeep by Yael van der Wouden, some of the best books I read that year, whose moving stories and excellent writing have stayed with me almost two years later. After reading Orbital, I am truly baffled that neither of these books won. Perhaps, had I just picked it up as a next read, rather than as a Booker Prize winner, I would have found it better than I did.

With all that being said, I still have hope for this year’s Booker Prize, the winner of which will be announced in November. With a different panel of judges each year, and consequently a diverse range of perspectives through which the novels are read, the victorious titles vary greatly from year to year, leaving room for a variety of literary excellence to be recognised over the decades. While Orbital may not have been my cup of tea, its plethora of rave reviews certainly underlines its win, and I enter this new Booker Prize season excited to see what takes home the title in 2026.