An Ultimate Guide to Orbital

Samantha Harvey’s Orbital (2023) follows a single Earth day in the lives of six astronauts aboard the international space station (ISS), hundreds of miles above earth. As they complete sixteen orbits and witness sixteen sunrises and sunsets, their distant view of Earth encourages reflection on the planet’s beauty, fragility, and the broader significance of human life. Freed from the usual boundaries of politics and nationality, the crew confronts questions of progress, ambition, memory, and relationships. Through her lyrical prose and meditative pacing, Harvey invites us to step back from our everyday preoccupations and feel more poignantly aware of, like our fellow astronauts, the bigger picture that we’re all part of.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Samantha Harvey (1975-now)

Samantha Harvey is an English novelist known for her lyrical fiction. Having studied philosophy before becoming a creative writer, her work is strongly influenced by philosophical inquiry, particularly ideas about consciousness, time, morality, and what it means to be human.

Harvey is interested in how individuals experience inner life, memory, perception, and ethical responsibility. Hence, it is no surprise that her writing blends together literary fiction with elements of science fiction and existential philosophy; the unique perspectives awarded from space enable the author to examine ideas about interconnectedness, our place in the universe, and the fragility of all that lies around us.

CONTEXT

Orbital is deeply shaped by contemporary anxieties about climate change, nationalism, technological progress, and the loneliness epidemic.

• Climate crisis and environmental fragility: viewed from space, Earth appears unified yet vulnerable. Harvey contemplates contemporary concerns about ecological collapse, and humanity’s responsibility to protect our fragile ‘mother’. The typhoon in particular reminds readers of the existential threats catalysed by ecological disasters, and humanity’s limited power in controlling the unprecedented effects of climate change.
• Nationalism and the artificiality of borders: from the international space station, the borders which define modern nations blur and disappear. Harvey’s writing thus critiques and responds to a modern world where geopolitical tensions, nationalism, and conflict continue to trump the dream of globalisation and international cooperation.
• Technological progress: humanity has historically defined its worth around scientific progress – our ability to ‘conquer’ nature both physically and epistemologically. In an age of rapid scientific and technological development, Harvey questions what such advancement is for. She echoes contemporary concerns about the human and ethical ‘cost’ of progress.
• Social alienation and disconnect: In a world where communication and convenience are constantly at our fingertips (think smartphones, computers, and the internet), we paradoxically feel more disconnected than ever from the people and environment around us. Loneliness is at an all time high, and Harvey critiques this hyper-accelerated modern condition by slowing the timeline of her novella to a single day, compelling readers to reflect on how we might remain meaningfully attentive and connected to the world and the people around us.

GENRE & STYLE

Structurally, the novel unfolds over a single day of repeated low-Earth orbits, creating a cyclical temporal structure that mirrors orbital motion.

While written in the third person, the focalisation of the narrative shifts seamlessly between multiple astronauts, often blurring their individual perspectives into a shared, choral interiority. Free indirect discourse, a narrative technique that blends third person narration with the interior thoughts and speech patterns of individual characters, allows Harvey to move between inner reflection and detached observation without clear transitions. This unique narrative reinforces the novel’s ideas about porous boundaries.

Harvey’s prose is also highly lyrical. The long, syntactically layered descriptions of places, people, and events force the reader to slow down and cultivate a kind of contemplative attention. The rich use of imagery, similes, and metaphors further strives to capture the beauty of the Earth below.

THEMES

Isolation and Human Connection

Harvey painfully conveys the isolation that many feel in modern society, emphasising the importance of human connection. Nell’s brother jokingly refers to the crew as a “floating family” yet this closeness cannot seem to replace the emotional bonds left behind on Earth. Furthermore, the personal solitude represented reflects Harvey’s broader meditation on collective human loneliness. Harvey frames space exploration as an outward projection of an inward absence; humanity looks “in loneliness and curiosity and hope” and sends probes into the void, calling out in multiple languages: “Hello? Konnichiwa, ciao, zdraste, bonjour, do you read me, hello?” (30). Nevertheless, silence prevails. Technological progress thus appears to be motivated by humanity’s existential yearning to escape its feelings of isolation.

The emotional consequences of isolation are rendered most sharply through Chie’s grief. Her mother’s death denies her the possibility of a farewell, something that she struggles to deal with. Other astronauts experience similar dislocation: Pietro is seized by an “insane and afflictive longing” for his wife, while Roman’s packet-radio conversations are “crackly and kind of faint,” emphasising the fragility of human connection. Roman’s repeated question “are you there?” encapsulates the pain of separation and the desire for connection.

However, not all is gloom and doom - Harvey resists nihilism by reasserting that connection is there, if only we are willing to recognise and feel it. The novel’s closing, metaphorical vision of Earth as “a complex orchestra of sounds” suggests that although connection is fleeting, there is a collective harmony that ties us to each other, and to our universe. We have to remain attentive and feel gratitude for these fleeting moments of connection, for they often dissolve quickly. As Harvey describes, these harmonies “rally and unify for a few short moments before falling back into the rin-tin-tin and jumbled tumbling of static galactic woodwind rainforest trance of a wild and lilting world.” (136)

Perception

Harvey explores how perception is reshaped when familiar frames of reference – time, space, and value – are disrupted. From orbit, the astronauts are forced to confront the instability of what they once assumed to be fixed and reliable.

Perception of time:

In space, time no longer behaves according to human expectations. The astronauts attempt to anchor themselves to Earth’s rhythms, taught to “look often at your watch to anchor your mind…this is the morning of a new day.” Yet space “shreds time to pieces,” collapsing ordinary cycles of day and night. With sixteen sunrises in a single Earth day, time becomes disorienting: “what’s a day?” a personified space seems to ask. Consequently, past, present, and future blur together; “the mind goes free within the first week…the day-less freak zone.” This temporal disruption intensifies their emotional vulnerability, as they are swarmed by past memories that haunt them. This sense of disorientation also manifests in their dreams; Nell dreams of a candle burning underwater, and Shaun of a flame that transforms into a galactic spiral, reinforcing their feelings of being lost.

Perception of space:

Distance also radically alters perspective. On earth, we are busy with the intricacies of our individual lives to consider the greater picture. But from orbit, Earth’s borders and conflicts shrink into abstraction, and human life appears fragile yet astonishingly beautiful. This shift in perspective is conveyed through the metaphor of Velazquez’ Las Meninas, a painting that questions who is looking, who is being looked at, and what truly constitutes the subject. Similarly to the painting, Harvey destabilises our viewpoint, reminding us that “nothing is what [we] thought it was.”

Perception of what’s really important

This altered perspective prompts a reassessment of meaning. Technological progress, national divisions, and human ambition seems insignificant when viewed from space: “whatever they were before they came here, whatever their differences…they are equalised here.” In contrast, relationships and human connection (somewhat lacking in the isolated space station) gain importance. The astronauts know that they will return “as strangers of a kind,” with Harvey’s comparison to them as “aliens learning a mad new world” emphasising the dramatic ways in which their experience has changed their perspective.

Life as fragile and fleeting

Harvey propounds the fragility and transience of life by juxtaposing the vastness of space with the vulnerability of both human bodies and the Earth itself. From orbit, continents appear and vanish in moments: “gone is a continent and here another sheer window’s veil of star-struck night.” On the same page, Chie reflects on the fact that “everything that’s left of my mother is there, and soon it will be burned and gone,” and Anton “runs his finger over a lump that’s appeared on his neck,” suggesting a troubling illness or tumor. By paralleling these moments and observations, Harvey reminds us that life is valuable precisely because it is fleeting.

The astronauts’ orbital perspective, looking down upon their home planet, provokes an urgent desire and “need… to protect this huge yet tiny earth.” Harvey reinforces environmental responsibility through seemingly minor anecdotes, such as the account of a cow being rescued (“all that effort to save a cow”) which symbolises humanity’s ethical obligation to care for vulnerable forms of life. Environmental collapse, the novel suggests, threatens to render humanity “orphans-in-waiting,” with the recurring metaphor of Earth as a mother prompting reflection on our duty of care.

Harvey laments the ways in which the planet is being “held hostage by humans, a gun to its vitals,” exposing the violence implicit in ecological exploitation. While the possibility of “another parent-planet,” such as Mars, is briefly imagined, this speculative hope does not absolve humanity of responsibility. Rather, Harvey insists that Earth is uniquely beautiful and irreplaceable, demanding our respect and protection.

The power of nature and the cosmos

Whilst life is presented as fragile, Harvey also evokes awe towards the overwhelming power of nature and the cosmos, repeatedly exposing the limits of human control. Natural forces such as the typhoon are mighty, destructive, and unstoppable. Pietro thinks helplessly of “one particular fisherman and his family,” wishing they could escape whilst recognising the impossibility of such foresight or agency. The blunt admission that “nobody foresaw the rapid growth of this typhoon” underscores nature’s resistance to human prediction, while Pietro’s frantic impulse to take “hundreds of photographs” only emphasises his lack of agency as he can do nothing but watch as the meteorological disaster threatens millions of vulnerable people.

Our small yet impressive mark in this cosmos is also highlighted through the metaphor of the calendar, which compresses all of human history into the final seconds of a cosmic year. As the prose dissolves into a poetic list of famous inventions, figures, and events – “the igniters of fire, the hackers in stone….Augusto Pinochet, Nikola Tesla…crowdfunding, the split atom…” – Harvey conveys humanity’s ingenuous yet fleeting presence in an enormous cosmos. Even the ageing spacecraft, with a crack beginning to show in its exterior, reminds Shaun that “this era is ebbing,” suggesting that even our most advanced achievements are ultimately temporary and short when set against cosmic time.

Nature and the cosmos thus become a humbling force; the astronauts cannot help but be “stagger[ed]” by “every single” sunrise they see, and often find themselves glued to the space station’s small windows, where they can admire the beauty and enormity of their universe.

The dream and cost of human progress

Orbital praises the remarkable achievements of science whilst critically interrogating the profound costs they entail. The astronauts’ journeys reflect the collective ambitions of our species: Anton decides to fulfill his father’s story and become “the first Russian” on the moon, driven by “national and personal and husbandly and later fatherly duty.” Progress is thus depicted as a deeply human endeavour, yet one that is both beautiful and destructive. Pietro reflects on this duality; while technological and artistic advances inspire wonder, they are also implicated in hubris and exploitation, from the ecological exploitation to corporate imperialism:

“Who can look at man’s neurotic assault on the planet and find it beautiful? Man’s hubris. A hubris so almighty that it’s matched only by its stupidity. And these phallic ships thrust into space are surely the most hubristic of them all, the totems of a species gone mad with self-love.”

The human cost of this drive is most poignantly rendered through Chie’s family history and the devastation of Nagasaki, revealing how individual lives are often casualties of broader historical and technological ambitions. Chie imagines her mother warning her: “be afraid, my child, at what humans can do.” Harvey extends this exploration of sacrifice in the name of progress to the astronauts themselves, whose work often sacrifices the present for the future: “it was never really about them…it’s just about the future and the siren song of other worlds.” In a way, the astronauts are akin to the lab rats, who suffer silently and stoically in the name of science. In observing these small lives, Harvey underscores the ethical paradox of progress and the tragic, almost comical lengths humans go to transcend their animal nature: “all the ways they’ve tried not to be animals and how comical this is, when he looks at it now.”

Pietro ultimately concludes that similarly to humanity itself, “sometimes destructive, sometimes hurtful, sometimes selfish, but beautiful because alive,” progress too is “by its nature alive.” Yet readers are left lingering with the question – where should we draw the line between ambition and hubris, between the pursuit of knowledge and the cost it inflicts on both people and the planet?

SYMBOLS AND MOTIFS

Parallel between Chie’s mother and Mother Earth

Chie remembers her mother at the top of a mountain, “strong and full of joy,” waving to her in triumph. Harvey draws a parallel between this maternal figure and Mother Earth: both appear invincible yet are ultimately fragile and mortal. Just as Chie grieves her mother’s passing, the astronauts confront the vulnerability of their home, threatened by ecological destruction. By personifying Earth as a mother, Harvey underscores its fragility and humanity’s responsibility to protect it, as we would a real mother.

Las Meninas (Diego Velázquez)

Las Meninas is used by Harvey to foreground the instability of perspective. The painting “disorient[s] its viewer…a painting inside a painting,” where the artist, the subjects, and the observer are mutually observed. Velazquez’s composition and ambiguity thus becomes a metaphor for perception itself, challenging the reader to consider what constitutes the ‘real’ subject. Shaun’s observation towards the end of the novel that it’s “the dog…the only living thing in the scene that isn’t looking anywhere” underscores how a shift in perspective can recalibrate our sense of significance. Shaun’s observation perhaps challenges the anthropocentric reflex to perceive humanity as the ‘centre’ of the universe. Furthermore, the fact that the dog is “the only thing that could be called vaguely free” suggests humility, inviting reflection on the ways humans unnecessarily complicate their own lives with vanity and ambition.

The lab rats

The lab rats arguably represent the astronauts themselves; both must adapt to an unfamiliar, weightless environment, and both are ultimately expendable in the pursuit of progress. Harvey highlights the ethical and human cost of scientific advancement, with the lab rats being reminiscent of other historical examples of animal experimentation such as Laika the dog. When Chie observes the mice “flying in circles…like little flying carpets,”: Harvey captures both their adaptation and a fleeting sense of joy. But are the lab rats truly joyous, or is Chie merely projecting her desire to see them happy? Either way, the rats symbolise the tension between scientific achievement and the vulnerability of those who enable it, willingly or unwillingly.

The typhoon

The encroaching, ominous typhoon functions as a reminder of nature’s uncontrollable power, as well as the effects of climate change. Pietro observes that “nobody foresaw [its] rapid growth,” highlighting the limits of human foresight and control over natural phenomena. Despite humanity’s technological achievements and mastery of meteorological science, the storm remains beyond their control. All that Pietro can do is “tak[e] photographs,” a voyeurism that conveys his utter inability to intervene. Evoking awe and terror, the typhoon thus symbolises the sublime yet destructive power of nature.

The moon landing

The moon landing serves as a constant reminder of human progress and ambition, embodying the collective dream that has propelled generations of scientific endeavour. For the astronauts, it also invokes a painful yearning; although their labour and sacrifices have built towards this moment, they cannot participate in it directly. Anton’s fleeting response captures this tension, as he wakes up with “one piercing feeling of childhood joy,” a joy that “pops like a bubble” as he falls back asleep. The simile conveys how the excitement that comes with human achievement is often mixed with loss; whilst progress pushes forward in the name of humanity, it can also leave individuals feeling more disconnected and excluded than ever before.

Anton’s radio

Drifting in orbit, Anton uses the radio to reach across vast distances, attempting to bridge the physical and emotional gap between himself and home. The “crackly and kind of faint” signal emphasises the tenuity of human connection. More broadly, the radio reflects the human impulse to resist solitude and seek companionship; even when separated from the planet, Anton seeks reassurance that he is still heard, and still belongs. As a technological object, the radio may also reflect Harvey’s concerns about technology; whilst it can extend human reach, it cannot fully overcome loneliness or replace embodied presence.