A little obsessed with re-entry as a concept these days. The idea of a long cold journey that is arduous, but safe, and all that is required is to endure... followed by a few minutes of being baptized in searing white plasma, no radio communications, some outer layer you thought of as "yourself" being excised as an inevitable cost, a mostly-ballistic trajectory.
It's "mostly ballistic": once you pick your lane, once you shoot your shot, you make the last few trim adjustments with your hydrazine-or-whatever thrusters: and now you've placed your bets. There's not really anything you can do on re-entry where adding energy will help, because the fundamental problem is one of shedding energy. The speed that got you through the journey is now a hazard. You have to re-acclimate to moving slowly. You have to come back, adopt a speed that is more favorable to atmosphere and breathing and humanity, and that means aerobraking. Every part of that is basically deterministic though: too steep and the heat builds up too fast and cooks you; you couldn't absorb the change fast enough. Too shallow and the exposure to heat over dozens of minutes wears you down: you didn't rip the band-aid off fast enough, you overshot your target, you spent so long getting back to normal that you left yourself vulnerable.
So every re-entry trajectory is this Goldilocks thing where you come back, talk to some experts on the far end and say "what is the best way to finish this" and trust them. The final exam is setting your course, knuckling down, and coming through the short dark window of loneliness to a place where you can open the parachutes and splash down safely, and wait for someone to pick you up and say "welcome home. you made it."