What about a good read for the new year? This might be one: volume two of Great Aviation Stories by Michael Barry, an old Cork Airport hand, is in the shops.
At one stage or another, each of us will be at the mercy of a pilot, flying in that toothpaste tube in the sky. We do it undeterred by the scare stories and trusting in the statistics that tell us driving is more dangerous than flying.
Safe landings are not the stuff books are made of, and Michael Barry demonstrates this in his excellent second volume.
Because of the presence of Roy Keane and Denis Irwin in the Manchester United squad, there is an exceptional interest in Cork in the two local sons, from different sides of the city.
Cork's special feeling about Manchester United goes further back: Noel Cantwell, from the city's famed Mardyke, captained the side to glory; Frank O'Farrell, a Corkonian, managed the team.
Maybe it's something to do with the red of Manchester matching the red of the Cork hurlers, who wear the colours these days with less success that the Mancunians.
It was to be expected, then, that in a city which loves hurling first, but which has a particular gra for and pride in Manchester United, the author would turn his attention to the Munich air disaster of 1958, which wiped out much of a great side.
They had beaten Yugoslavia's Red Star 2-1 at home in the European Cup. The away leg was fixed for February 5th in Belgrade.
This is how the author tells it: "Due to the fact that Manchester United had an important match against Wolverhampton at Old Trafford on the following Saturday and because of the vagaries of the weather at that time of year, it was decided that the club would charter a plane to fly the team, officials and press to Belgrade and back in ample time for the Saturday game.
"The group flew out from Manchester Airport on Monday February 3rd on a 47-seater British European Airways Elizabethan-class Airspeed Ambassador, call sign G-ALZU.
"In command of the aircraft was Capt James Thain and the first officer was Capt G.K. Rayment . . . The United party was led by Matt Busby, manager, Tom Curry, trainer, Bert Whalley, coach, and Walter Crichmar, club secretary. The assistant manager, Jimmy Murphy, couldn't travel as he was also manager of Wales and had a fixture against Israel on the Wednesday in a World Cup game in Cardiff."
Even now, the welldocumented story remains fascinating. On board the fatal flight were some of the great soccer names of the day: Pegg, Viollet, Charlton, Blanchflower, Foulkes, Gregg, Berry, Whelan, Edwards.
Mr Eugene Moloney, a Mancunian who lives in Cork and adores the club, is probably not far from the truth when he says the crash, and later George Best, made Manchester United what it is today.
The crash created a mystique, and heroes. That aura has not dissipated, and as the club again prospers as the 40th anniversary of that terrible day approaches, there are those - even among some dedicated to not liking Manchester United - who harbour a sneaking regard for the club.
Moloney's father was a Limerick man, steeped in the hurling tradition. When he emigrated to Manchester, his workmates took him in 1950 to see his first soccer match. He was hooked. And after that so were his sons.
The book describes how, on the return leg from Belgrade, the aircraft made three attempts at Munich Airport to get off the ground. What happened next - ice on the wings, slush on the runway, sluggish engine power - will be debated for ever. But these words from co-pilot Rayment tell it all. He called out: "Christ, we are not going to make it." And of course, the flight didn't make it.
"The plane never became airborne, and when it reached the end of the runway it continued along the 27-metre-long stopway with its engines at full power, broke through the boundary fence and across a small road. Ahead in its path were a house and a tree."
During this time the pilots were trying to control the plane. Capt Rayment tried to raise it off the ground, and to assist this ordered the undercarriage to be retracted, which Thain did. It didn't work, and the aircraft ploughed into the house. Both plane and house caught fire. Part of the port wing and the tail were ripped off.
On the plane went, demolishing all before it. It struck the concrete base of a wooden hut, and the rear fuselage broke off.
"What was left of the body of the plane slid on for about 70 metres and eventually came to a stop right way up," Michael Barry writes.
Harry Gregg, the Irish international goalkeeper, was one of the heroes of the day. He escaped the tangled wreckage but went back to deliver others to safety, including the infant daughter of a Yugoslavian diplomat. Between members of the British press corps and players, the death toll was 23 when it was all over.
The only surviving sports journalist was Frank Taylor, who later wrote the book The Day A Team Died.
This is just one of the stories that Michael Barry has researched. Others include chapters on great aviators such as Lindbergh, Alcock and Brown, Douglas Bader and Amy Johnson. He has written, too, about Charles Kingsford-Smith, Australia's most famous airman, and of Hannah Reitsch, the German glider pilot and test pilot in the second World War.