Whatever one thinks of Elon Musk—his personality, his politics, or his online presence—it’s difficult to dismiss the scale of what he has helped build. He was a co-founder of PayPal (via X.com), later led Tesla, Inc. to global prominence, founded SpaceX, and has since been involved in ventures like Neuralink and xAI. Some of these came after he had already made and multiplied his fortune—but that doesn’t make the technical ambition any less real.
Eric Berger’s Liftoff focuses not on the larger-than-life mythology, but on the fragile, uncertain early years of SpaceX. And that is precisely what makes it so compelling.
The Early Days: Intensity and Belief
One of the most fascinating parts of the book is Berger’s description of Musk’s early hiring interviews. The questions were technical, probing, and often intense. Musk wasn’t just looking for résumés—he was looking for people who understood first principles, who could derive answers from physics rather than recite them from memory.
There’s also a recurring theme of personal commitment. Musk wasn’t a distant executive delegating risk. In those early years, he was deeply involved—sleeping at the factory, pushing schedules aggressively, and working alongside engineers. Whether one admires or criticizes his management style, the level of personal investment is undeniable.
The Merlin Engine and the Romance of Rocketry
Reading about the development and repeated test firings of the Merlin engine brought back memories of Cold War rocketry accounts like The Wrong Stuff and Ignition!: An Informal History of Liquid Rocket Propellants. Rocket science has a particular kind of drama to it. Even ordinary flight is astonishing when you think about it. Escaping Earth’s gravity well—pushing beyond the atmosphere entirely—feels like stepping outside the environment we evolved for.
Berger does an excellent job of conveying how brutally difficult this is. Engines explode. Fuel lines rupture. Designs fail. Iterations pile up. Spaceflight is unforgiving in a way few other industries are.
Having read more about the early U.S. and Soviet space programs, it’s striking to see similar levels of risk and sacrifice reappear in a commercial setting. It underscores just how extraordinary orbital launch capability really is.
Government vs. Commercial Risk
The book also invites reflection on the role of governments versus private companies in advancing technology. Governments funded the foundational research that made modern spaceflight possible. Without decades of publicly funded baseline research—materials science, fluid dynamics, propulsion theory—SpaceX’s work would have been vastly more difficult.
At the same time, governments are often more risk-averse. They operate with public money and political oversight. Failure carries consequences beyond engineering setbacks. Commercial companies, by contrast, can sometimes move faster and take bolder risks—though the financial consequences can be existential.
Liftoff makes clear how close SpaceX came to collapse. After three failed launches of the Falcon 1 rocket, the company was nearly out of money. The fourth launch succeeded in September 2008—barely in time. Shortly thereafter, NASA awarded SpaceX a Commercial Resupply Services (CRS) contract, a deal widely credited with helping stabilize the company financially.
The risks were real. Starting a rocket company is the industrial equivalent of lighting money on fire and hoping physics cooperates before the cash runs out. There’s an old joke that the best way to become a millionaire in aerospace is to start as a billionaire. The history Berger recounts—along with the many previous failed private launch ventures—suggests there’s truth to it.
Omelek Island and Improvisation
One of the most remarkable episodes in the book is SpaceX’s decision to move its launch operations to Omelek Island in the Kwajalein Atoll in the Marshall Islands after facing constraints at Vandenberg Space Force Base. The logistical challenge alone was staggering: transporting equipment, building infrastructure in a remote Pacific location, and operating far from traditional aerospace hubs.
That they managed to pull it off at all is impressive. That they did so under intense financial and technical pressure is extraordinary.
A Different Era of Spaceflight
What stands out most after finishing Liftoff is how improbable SpaceX’s survival really was. Today, reusable rockets landing vertically feel almost routine. But Berger reminds us that this future was not inevitable. It hinged on a handful of launches, engineering decisions, and financial gambles that easily could have gone the other way.
It’s also a reminder that the current resurgence in space exploration—commercial launches, Mars ambitions, satellite megaconstellations—rests on both public and private effort. Governments laid the groundwork. Private companies shifted the cost curve and accelerated iteration.
Final Thoughts
Liftoff is not a hagiography, nor is it a takedown. It’s a detailed, well-reported account of how a small, scrappy company survived long enough to change the aerospace industry.
Regardless of one’s opinion of Elon Musk, the early story of SpaceX is undeniably dramatic—and undeniably consequential. Berger captures the tension, the risk, and the sheer audacity of trying to build a rocket company from scratch in the 21st century.
If you have any interest in spaceflight, engineering, or high-risk entrepreneurship, this book is well worth your time.
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