e finest achievements of Ginger Stott at his best," or "Flack is a magnificent find for Kent: he promises to completely surpass the historic feats of Ginger Stott." These journalistic superlatives only irritate those who remember the performances referred to. We who watched the man's career know that Pickering and Flack are but tyros compared to Stott; we know that none of his successors has challenged comparison with him. He was a meteor that blazed across the sky, and if he ever has a true successor, such stars as Pickering and Flack will shine pale and dim in comparison.
It makes one feel suddenly old to recall that great matinee at the Lyceum, given for Ginger Stott's benefit after he met with his accident. In ten years so many great figures in that world have died or fallen into obscurity. I can count on my fingers the number of those who were then, and are still, in the forefront of popularity. Of the others, poor Captain Wallis, for instance, is dead--and no modern writer, in my opinion, can equ
I\\\'ve never heard of this author, but this is a very impressive novel about a child with super-intelligence. Not a book that may amuse you, but a book that lets you think.
A brilliant and unsettling, at times moving, account of a superhuman child, his brief trajectory on Earth, the adults he profoundly affects, and his extreme alienation. The author creates one of most convincing and compelling accounts of superhuman intelligence in literature. To appreciate it, however, one ought to have at least rudimentary intelligence, oneself (which disqualifies the one-star reviewer).
A slow-moving and rather pointless novel about a strange child genius.
The beginning bogs down in a lot of detail about his father's brilliant but aborted career as a cricket player, so much so that at first it seems as if it's going to be a sports story. Then, when we finally get to the child, he leads a thoroughly dull life for all of his peculiarly intimidating intellect, and never does anything very important.