Dez Reviews the Books 'Laika' (2007) by Nick Abadzis and 'Soviet Space Dogs' (2014) by Olesya Turkina

Longtime readers of GNABB or associates of mine know that since history is my profession, I have gotten obsessed over the years with various random historical topics. The mutiny on the 'Bounty,' Jonestown, and of course, the animal space programs. In my class, I have a day that I set aside for the early (through Apollo 11) space race. It is a fun day, and I've got a little segment where I discuss the Soviet space dogs and American space chimps. Invariably, it is one of the favorite presentations of the year for my students. I don't know exactly why, other than to say that I understand it because I find it fascinating too. (By the way, Deborah Cadbury's 'Space Race' remains my favorite U.S.-Soviet comparative study on the early space race).

I think I get more emotion out of my students when I reveal the fate of Laika the space dog than when discussing the carnage of the Civil War or other such tragedies. Laika, as many of you know, was the first earthling to go into space. Hers, however, was a one way ticket and the Soviet scientists knew that from the outset. The Soviets had just scored a dramatic victory with the launch of Sputnik (the first human-made satellite) in October of 1957. Premier Nikita Khrushchev was eager to follow it up with something just as spectacular, and he demanded that it fall during the anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution in November. It was suggested that another satellite be sent up and for it to transmit the Soviet anthem around the world, but Khrushchev scoffed that he did not want to send up an orbiting "pipe organ." Then genius Chief Designer Korolev suggested sending up one of the dogs that they had been training for just such missions. It was a go.

ABOVE: Laika, the first earthling to travel to space

Due to Khrushchev's imposed and impossible time table, the Soviet scientists did not have time to perfect a recovery system for the passenger, so from the outset it was going to be a one way ticket to oblivion. Before you immediately assume that these are typical cold hearted commies, all accounts I have read detail the close and personal relationship that they developed with the space dogs. They did everything they could to treat them as humanely as possible given the circumstances and required training, and bonds were formed. The lucky dogs that did make it back and then were retired often found homes with the families of the very scientists who had trained them. I say found homes because all of the space dogs were mongrel strays picked up off the streets of Moscow. This not only fit the Soviet proletariat ideology (vs. using more bourgeois purebreds), they figured that mutts were genetically fitter and their life on the streets had already made them tough and more adaptable to extreme conditions. On Laika, Oleg Gazenko, who had been in charge of the Soviet space dog training, said in 1998: "Work with animals is a source of suffering to all of us. We treat them like babies who cannot speak. The more time passes, the more I'm sorry about it. We did not learn enough from the mission to justify the death of the dog."

Laika was launched on November 3, 1957. ("Muttnik" as the American press sarcastically, yet still affectionately, referred to her). For decades the Soviet propaganda machine insisted that she had survived seven days in orbit (reporting on her status over those seven days to the rest of the world) and then was painlessly euthanized through poisoned food pellets. It was only in 2002, when the files were finally declassified by the Russians, that the truth was known. In reality, she perished several hours after launch due to a miscalculation in thermal conductivity, making the onboard fans to keep her cool useless. She painfully burned to death. (Although I am sure that Yuri Gagarin was happy they figured this mistake out on Laika instead of on him). After Laika's trip, the Soviets eventually figured out how to bring the passengers back, turning the adorable Belka and Strelka into the first Soviet pop stars who could actually enjoy, as much as dogs can, their fame.

BELOW: Laika paraphernalia

The sacrifice that these dogs (and the American chimps) made for the space programs cannot be underestimated. Scientists were not sure that earthlings could survive space travel at all. These animals showed us that they can.

ABOVE: Strelka and Belka. They made it back.

Olesya Turkina's 'Soviet Space Dogs' is actually nicer to look at than to read. It is a good read and gives some fantastic information on the space dog program, but I think that it could have been written a bit better. I just think that in the end there is still a lot about the training and details of the missions that we still do not know. She does discuss Laika, Belka and Strelka and others's fame, symbolism and pop culture status beautifully. Speaking of beauty, this book is gorgeous. It has excellent pictures and she has undertaken the monumental task of collecting and photographing as much iconography and pop culture-related items as possible. Toys, calendars, stamps, matchbox covers, postcards, statues...not just in Russia but worldwide, related to the space dogs. The propaganda coup becomes obvious through these pictures. Funny thing is that the Soviet authorities were not prepared at all for the worldwide concern and eventual backlash regarding Laika's fate. They had to scramble to create stories of how painlessly she met her fate after the world demanded more details as to poor Laika’s demise. Turkina details that wonderfully as well.

Nick Abadzis's graphic novel 'Laika' is wonderful. I am no expert on graphic novels, I've only read a handful ('Maus,' some of the important Batman ones, oh, and ‘Planet Hulk’). Abadzis’s work of historical fiction attempts to remain as true to the historic details as possible while filling in the personal moments and backstory with imaginative fiction. Chief Designer Korolev, Gazenko, Khrushchev, and some of the other scientists are presented true to form. The heart of the story is in the touching relationship that forms between Laika and her primary caregiver, Yelena Dubrovsky. It is a touching tale that brings real emotion to Laika’s story, and does her memory justice. The primary themes are destiny (in fact, the opening scene has Korolev wandering in the Siberian snow repeating the mantra “I am a man of destiny…I will not die”) and trust.

It is about Korolev’s manic drive for the destiny of the Soviet space program (and his own redemption after having been a political prisoner, arrested in one of Stalin’s purges), but even more Laika’s destiny to go from anonymous stray on the streets of Moscow to worldwide icon, but having to sacrifice her life in the process. And the trust these dogs have in their trainers, and the ultimate trust broken by knowingly preparing her for her one way journey for the glory of the Soviet State. The book is a triumphant accomplishment, but sad. I daresay you will shed a tear or two as Laika rockets to the stars (the visuals in that part of the book are stunningly effective too, with the closing mantra “you can trust me” being repeated in Laika’s mind). So it is bookended nicely by the two themes, opening hopefully with destiny and closing with trust (broken).

‘Laika’ **** out of *****
‘Soviet Space Dogs’ *** out of *****
Also, reference ‘Space Race’ by Deborah Cadbury ****1/2 out of *****