Warning: this review contains spoilers (right up front) about both the book's "solution" and what I believe is a more believable explanation of the mystery.
Unfortunately, the title of this book is misleading, for nothing was even remotely "solved" in its pages. Perhaps the title "The 1897 Airship Mystery: a Romantic Fantasy for Your Amusement" would not have sold as well, but it would have been more realistic.
The author's thesis is that the spate of "airship" sightings during 1897 is attributable to two or three man-made lighter-than-air vehicles of an advanced design for the times. He concludes that they were constructed by a secret cabal of genius inventors, and flown for a period of months until they each met with an accidental destruction over the sea. He rejects the possibilities of mass hysteria and hoaxes, and concludes that it is not necessary to invoke other explanations, such as that they were extraterrestrial vehicles.
From this reviewer's perspective this conclusion is unjustified. For one, mass hysteria is a distinct possibility, as there are aspects of the tale that are quite consistent with it, such as the "airship parties". Nor was a hoax eliminated in any way. Some reports are acknowledged by the author as obvious fabrications, but they are preceded and followed by reports that are just as fabulous, but seemingly accepted at face value. Most telling of all, many characters in this story come across as touts, braggarts, and roustabouts: just the sort of folks who would enjoy poking their finger in the eye of polite society by staging an elaborate hoax.
Railroad men in particular are a key constituency in spreading the news about the airships, and they come across as a veritable conspiracy of clowns. And the book's assertion that telegraphers were notably sober and responsible is very far from a universally held opinion.
The book's conclusions aside, the style in which we are taken to them is also a problem. The writing contains numerous irritants: the author uses "<grin>" and similar gimmicks throughout, as if he is writing an e-mail. Rather than signaling to us where he is being humorous, the author might better have attempted the more conventional approach of simply trying to write in a humorous manner. And on several of the (many) occasions where I encountered the parenthetical words "(pun intended)", I was unable to locate anything resembling a pun in the vicinity.
Unfortunately, little sense of the times can be gained through the author's chosen vehicle for telling this story - a seemingly unending series of newspaper clippings, drearily organized day-by-day, week-by-week, and month-by-month. The author has not really "taken us there" - he has just let us re-read his research database.
The repeated promises that "all will be explained in the final chapters" will tempt the reader to skip the tedious clippings and jump to the ending. I succumbed to that temptation, but felt duty bound to go back afterward and read the chapters I had skipped. Nothing I found there caused me to regret taking that shortcut.
One last item on style: it is hard to regard a book as a serious analysis when it gratuitously dubs the airships being investigated the "Nina, Pina, and Colada". I truly needed one when I encountered that witticism.
In the final analysis, though, the book fails because it neglects to do any skeptical analysis of the claimed airships themselves. Although human technology is assumed in the design and construction of these airships, the patent infeasibility of the reported designs is never addressed. For example, by their rough dimensions, these airships' gas envelope capacities, compared to mid 20th century designs that actually carried passengers, are several orders of magnitude too small to lift any useful load, much less a handful of aeronauts described as living in comfort, with beds, dining tables, cooking stoves, and electric lights and heating(!).
An airship 150 feet long may sound pretty grand, until you consider that the Hindenburg was 800 feet long and 135 feet in diameter! An airship that is 5 times the length of another does not carry 5 times the load, however: it carries about 125 times the load, because the volume of lifting gas increases as the cube of linear dimensions. Given that about 100 people, including crew, were flying on the Hindenburg in a state of comfort similar to that ascribed to the 1897 airships, the latter would have room for about 1/125 as many people, or about 60% of a person! I guess the heating bill would not have been too steep after all.
"Electricity" is repeatedly mentioned as the source of the airships' propulsive power, but the storage battery technology of the day consisted of heavy glass jars full of acid, with electrodes of suspended copper and lead bars or plates. Any such battery sufficient to power the ships could not possibly be lifted by their tiny gas capacities. Even ignoring the batteries, any late-19-th century electric motors powerful enough to drive an airship to 100 mph cruise speeds could not be lifted by them, either. One would be lucky to be able to float such battery-motor assemblies on a cargo barge. In an airship, they could only have been useful as highly effective anchors, in the event of a hurricane.
Speaking further of propulsion, of those visionaries who imagined flight before the Wright brothers quit imagining and did it, essentially every last one assumed that aerial propellers would have to be like gigantic fans, an overgrown ship's screw if you will, in order to derive thrust from the insubstantial air. And those fantasy-propellers are exactly what are described as propelling the 1897 airships. If the Wright brothers' success in flying can be credited to one factor above all, it was their clean-sheet-of-paper approach to propeller design, one that produced the long, thin-bladed props we see today. To think that these airships' propellers (or their flapping sail-wings that are also reported) could push them to over 100 mph is beyond laughable. There is no diplomatic way to say it: the 1897 airships' propulsion systems would not work any better than their lift systems - that is, they would not work at all, not even remotely.
There are also basic errors of fact, such as that "Acetylene gives 90% of the lifting power of Hydrogen". Any high-school chemistry teacher (or student) knows that such a proposition is absurd. If the specific gravity of air is assumed as 1.0, the specific gravity of acetylene is 0.91, and that of hydrogen is .085, or less than 1/10 of that value. So an acetylene blimp would be a sluggish performer indeed. And those high-schoolers would also know that there are no mysterious gaseous elements lighter than hydrogen.
Tangentially, this book does contain one true story of an inventor and his technology that was indeed ahead of its time, but regrettably it is mentioned only in passing as a validation of the author's thesis, of which it decidedly is not. Dr. Solomon Andrews' "Aeron" lighter-than-air craft demonstrated the innovative and perfectly valid concept of producing forward thrust through "gliding" upward in an inclined wing-like balloon, but this was never really elaborated upon in the book. Andrews' achievements occurred in the mid-1860's, thus predating the airship affair by more than 30 years, and they were witnessed by numerous professionals in public demonstrations. But there is no trace at all of the lineage of Andrews' dirigible balloon in the purported 1897 airship designs.
In my opinion, the author's mountain of clippings unintentionally documents the 1897 airships as hoaxes inflamed by mass hysteria (which does not actually mean people behaving "hysterically", but simply participating in group-think on a community or state-wide scale).
The key technical clues are the impossibly Jules-Verne-like designs that could never get airborne, complete with sitting-parlors and flapping sail-like wings. They only lack harnessed flying swans! These are a hoaxer's idea of what an airship would be like, not the design of any secret cadre of brilliant inventors and scientists. If there was actually such an advanced think-tank of super-savants, it is puzzling that they employed classic ship-of-the-sky propellers and flapping wings-sails, when two bicycle-shop mechanics would demonstrate propellers that actually worked, and wings that actually flew, only 5 years later.
The other key technical factor in my conclusion are the constant references to the "high tech" miracles of the popular press of that era: "electricity" in some generic unspecified form of application, mystery gases lighter than hydrogen, and the super-light metal aluminum, which used in combination seem to supply the answer to any engineering impossibility. If their physical design was prototypical of a hoaxer's conception of an airship, it is fair to say that the technologies used imply a newspaper-reporter's conception of one.
I suppose it is not necessary to say that I was disappointed in this book. I would have had absolutely no trouble accepting its thesis, or even an extraterrestrial thesis for that matter, were it even remotely demonstrated to be plausible. But there are just too many "tells" here that the "1897 Airship Mystery" is not a mystery at all, but merely balderdash.