Exiles by Mason Coile (pseudonym of the late Andrew Pyper) drops us in the deep end by outlining the harsh realities of space travel that usually get skimmed over (which, tbh, is fine with me, but that’s because blood is about the only bodily fluid or excretion that doesn’t gross me out. I know. That level of TMI is probably on par with what I’m getting from the first pages of Exiles). 

Reading Orbital was like reading a long poem about the vastness and smallness of Earth - in part through the eyes of four astronauts and two cosmonauts as they experience a sunrise every 90 minutes in their space station orbiting the planet.