Book Review: Airborne: A Sentimental Journey, by William F. Buckley, Jr. (1976)

Paperback cover of Airborne: A Sentimental Journey, by William F. Buckley, Jr., 1976. (Photo by Mark C. Taylor)

William F. Buckley sailing.

Christo and Pup, Christopher Buckley and William F. Buckley.

William F. Buckley Jr. was a man of many talents and interests. Buckley founded the influential conservative political magazine National Review, hosted the weekly public affairs talk show Firing Line, wrote a syndicated newspaper column three days a week, played the harpsichord, started writing novels at the age of 50, and was passionate about sailing. Oh, and one time he ran for Mayor of New York City. And what have you done today, old sport?

Buckley’s first book about sailing, Airborne: A Sentimental Journey, was published in 1976. Airborne chronicles Buckley’s 1975 voyage across the Atlantic Ocean in his schooner Cyrano. Various friends are along for the ride, chief amongst them Buckley’s only child, Christopher, or “Christo” as WFB refers to him. When Airborne takes place, Christo is a recent college graduate, figuring out what he wants to do with his life. Airborne features excerpts from Christopher’s journal of the voyage, and it’s very clear that he has a way with words—no surprise since we know that he goes on to become the author of 18 books, famous for political satires like Thank You for Smoking and Little Green Men. Christopher Buckley also wrote a fantastic memoir about his parents, Losing Mum and Pup, and reading that book piqued my interest in reading his father’s more personal books, like Cruising Speed and Overdrive, which both chronicle a week in the life of WFB. 

Buckley uses the ocean journey at the center of Airborne as a jumping-off point to describe the important role that sailing has played in his life. Throughout the book, Buckley weaves in many stories about the boats he has owned, and the adventures they have taken him on. Buckley writes eloquently about sailing: “The ocean and the sky and the night are suddenly alive, your friends and your enemies, but not any longer just workaday abstractions. It is most surely another world and a world worth knowing.” (p.26) 

The sailing bug bit Buckley early. At age 13 he was sailing regularly on a lake near the family home in Connecticut, where he raced neighbors twice his age: “Seventy-five races per summer for three summers may strike some as a few races too many. It struck me as too few races by far.” (p.58) 

Buckley also describes the dangers of sailing and the power of the sea. He also gives the reader an account of the tragic events of a cruise on Cyrano in June of 1971. While sailing on the Hudson River in Manhattan, a young African American advertising executive named Marvin Hayes was sitting on the lifeline of the boat when it broke. He fell into the water, did not know how to swim, and drowned before the boat could get back to him. Lawsuits were filed, and it was ultimately determined that shoddy workmanship was to blame: the lifeline should have held up to 3,000 pounds but “the rigger had applied the wrong kind of crimp to bind the cable to the fitting that secures it to the stanchion.” (p.82) (Buckley was not on board when this accident took place.) 

The voyage that Buckley describes in Airborne begins in Miami, with a stopover in Bermuda, and then on to the Azores. The trip is rife with technological problems from the very start. By the end of the voyage, even Buckley’s trusty sextant has failed him. “Now the list is pretty nearly complete: the radar, the autopilot, the batteries, the motor, the generator, the RDF, the loran, the chronometer, and the sextant. The factual errors in the instruction book for the HP-65 seem almost a diversion.” (p.211)

There’s an interesting section on celestial navigation, which Buckley was a big fan of. It sounds very complicated to a non-sailor like me, but it’s fascinating to learn about how you can find out where you are, even when you’re in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean. (As long as you can see either the sun or the stars.) 

As a prose writer, Buckley’s style is surprisingly similar to that of his nemesis, Gore Vidal. Both men were devotees of the aside, the digression, as though their brilliant brains had so many competing thoughts occurring to them at the same moment that they simply had to set it all down, and well, dear reader, you’ll just have to try your best to catch up with them! Sarcasm aside, that may have been close to the truth, as they were both exceptionally brilliant men who probably did have a million different thoughts rushing through their heads at any given moment. And while that is entertaining to read, it can be tough to follow sometimes. 

What I like so much about William F. Buckley’s personal style is his confidence. You can see it on Firing Line. He’s leaning back in his chair, slouching, with his clipboard and pencil, eyes lidded as though he might suddenly drift off to sleep, and yet, he is never at a loss for words, for threading the complicated tapestry of the argument he is weaving. He can write a newspaper column in 30 minutes. He can sail across the Atlantic. I’m in awe of that kind of confidence, probably because I simply don’t posses it. As Christopher Buckley writes in his journal: “There are times when I’m right and times when I’m wrong. Usually, I admit when I’m wrong. WFB, it seems, does not subscribe to this.” (p.94)

Buckley was renowned for possessing a huge vocabulary, and it’s on full display throughout the book. I was thrilled to read Buckley use the word “arteriosclerotic” which was one of Tom Wolfe’s favorite words that he used throughout his first book, The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby. Buckley finds the world of sailors even a little too conservative for him: “Sometimes, though, the tribal spirit spills over, and you get arteriosclerotic stuffiness.” (p.127) 

Buckley is aware that owning a yacht is what we would now call a “first world problem,” as he writes about reprogramming his constantly malfunctioning HP-65 navigation device: “You may put that down, if you insist, in the category of the Problems of the Idle Rich.” (p.189)

Buckley also came up with the perfect metaphor for Donald Trump when he wrote: "The key to a serene relationship with sharks is simply this: Bear it in mind that they are so dumb, you can neither anticipate nor outwit them." (p.133)

Throughout Airborne, we see Buckley’s pride in his son, and so it seems fitting at the very end of the book he lets Christopher have the last word. “…even though I’m restless for the touch of land, if you were to set sail tomorrow to cross another ocean, I’d sell my soul to ship out with you. Any day.” (p.252)