Taylor Jenkins Reid has conquered just about every story you can imagine --- an Old Hollywood star’s confessions; the formation and breakup of a wildly successful band; the annual summer party of a surfer turned model; and even the competition on a tennis court, where a renowned legend seeks to reclaim her title. What’s left for an author who forges ahead so bravely, who has yet to meet a love story she can’t write? Well, space, obviously. Enter ATMOSPHERE.

Joan Goodwin has been obsessed with the stars for as long as she can remember. She has a PhD in the analysis of magnetic structures in the solar corona, but she wastes her time teaching bored 18-year-olds at Rice University what a parsec is because “someone has to do it.” Then in 1977 comes the famous “This is your NASA” commercial featuring “Star Trek” actress Nichelle Nichols. NASA is finally recruiting women, and meek and mild Joan is ready for the challenge. Preternaturally gifted in just about everything she tries, but hopelessly critical of herself, Joan has watched her life stagnate for too long, leaving her endlessly available to care for her feckless sister’s daughter, Frances, but not quite as available to pursue her own interests.

By 1979, however, after 3,122 applications are reviewed and 121 applicants are interviewed, Joan becomes one of 18 astronaut candidates. The training will be difficult, but in the end she will have the silver astronaut pin that labels her as one of the elite.

"Alternating between Joan’s training as an astronaut and the flight that will change everything for her, Taylor Jenkins Reid has penned her most propulsive, heartbreaking novel yet…and, somehow, her most uplifting."

Training soon begins at Houston’s Johnson Space Center, where Joan meets her fellow candidates. Among them are Hank Redmond, a cool and unflappable pilot; John Griffin, sweet and brave; Lydia Danes, ambitious and cutthroat; Donna Fitzgerald, warm and affable; and Vanessa Ford, a magnetic engineer who dreams of being a pilot. For years, they have been the smartest, most mathematically minded people in the room. Now, practically for the first time ever, they are among equals.

And with that leveling comes a new challenge: standing out. Joan, to her credit, has never once dreamed of standing out, whereas others like Lydia and Vanessa are willing to stick their necks out if it means getting what they want. Together, all the candidates endure lessons on engineering, oceanography, geography, anatomy, country borders, and even emergency medical procedures. Far from being the Wild West, Joan learns that space cannot be navigated or controlled by cowboys --- men interested more in discovery and ownership than in teamwork --- and is instead better explored by, well, nerds. For a job so adventurous, it is surprisingly routine. And Joan thrives on routine.

But amid the late nights, stomach-turning simulations, and math (so much math), a new kind of lesson is unfolding for Joan: a lesson in love. Joan has never felt the pull of romance, which could be chalked up to her fear of repeating her sister’s reckless love life, but that has never seemed like quite enough of an explanation. So when Joan starts to realize that she cannot take her eyes off of Vanessa, she doesn’t even possess the vocabulary to understand what is happening. Space, a “final frontier” that has never frightened or intimidated her, may be nebulous by definition, but Joan knows that there’s an order to it, a fusion of different forces and reactions that keep the universe running. Love, however --- especially the love between two women amid Reaganism and the AIDS crisis --- is far more difficult to solve.

Taylor Jenkins Reid chronicles Joan’s first love amid the backdrop of her graduation from the candidacy program, officially making her an astronaut. But with the promise of space missions and command center excitement comes the excruciating inevitability of tragedy. So when we meet Joan in 1984, she is not wildly throwing her silver pin in the air in celebration or even recalling the fresh, loamy scent of the Earth’s soil. Instead, she is manning the command center as her classmates --- her best friends and her lover --- journey up to space alone on what should be a routine mission. Until it isn’t.

Alternating between Joan’s training as an astronaut and the flight that will change everything for her, Reid has penned her most propulsive, heartbreaking novel yet…and, somehow, her most uplifting. If the concept of space is a turn-off for you, don’t forget for a moment that this is still Taylor Jenkins Reid we’re talking about here.

Much more than a space or NASA story, ATMOSPHERE is, as its subtitle suggests, a love story. The love Reid writes about is not one of stolen glances and first kisses, butterflies and late nights (though there’s plenty of that here), but something much stronger and more concrete: the peace that comes with love, the sensation of finally meeting someone who understands you and sees you fully. The falling-in-love talks between Joan and Vanessa present some of Reid’s most skillful, intricate dialogue yet. Often you think the characters are having a surface-level conversation (and so do they), but with the turn of a phrase, you realize they’re having a much deeper, more complex one. And in that tiny, finite moment, you grasp how truly infinite Reid’s talent is.

However, it is Reid’s redefining of legacy that contains some of the most poignant lessons I’ve ever learned. Legacy, per the author, is not limited to major triumphs or discoveries; rather, it is applied more directly through the imparting of knowledge, the chance to share something of the past with someone who can bring it further into the future. Sure, it is easy to apply to space exploration, but in Reid’s deft hands, we see this same universal concept applied to offering extra help to a peer or sharing your father’s hack recipe for a peanut butter and jelly order at a diner (for the uninitiated, you dip it in a strawberry milkshake).

In the end, ATMOSPHERE is not really about space or love, but the realization that as products of both of these complicated, complex subjects, we are all in debt to one another, forced to reckon with the repercussions of our actions. But we also are irrevocably, indisputably connected to one another, never alone for as long as it takes to consider the thought. And that’s a message worth championing.