Mr. Chesterton is avowedly the maker of fantasies, half allegorical in motive; but like all true allegories, they touch ordinary life at many points. This story will be found as daring and subtle in conception, and as brilliant in presentation as his best work.
sh it seemed to have five or six legs, it alighted upon two, like the man in the queer telegram. It took the form of a large light-haired man in gay green holiday clothes. He had bright blonde hair that the wind brushed back like a German's, a flushed eager face like a cherub's, and a prominent pointing nose, a little like a dog's. His head, however, was by no means cherubic in the sense of being without a body. On the contrary, on his vast shoulders and shape generally gigantesque, his head looked oddly and unnaturally small. This have rise to a scientific theory (which his conduct fully supported) that he was an idiot.
Inglewood had a politeness instinctive and yet awkward. His life was full of arrested half gestures of assistance. And even this prodigy of a big man in green, leaping the wall like a bright green grasshopper, did not paralyze that small altruism of his habits in such a matter as a lost hat. He was stepping forward to recover the green gentleman's head-gear, when he was struck rigid wi
This was, perhaps, the most enjoyable of Chesterton's works that I have read. I say this after having read every fiction of his available on this site.
Manalive is a tale about what it means to live like a child. Chesterton explores his own world, as though looking at it for the first time. In this, I find the storyline both amusing and inspiring. I discovered that much of what I need for happiness is already in my grasp. Too much of the best things in life have been lost to convention, and too many of the greatest wonders in life are routinely ignored. That is the essence of this book. The protagonist is a madman, or perhaps he is the only sane person left in the world. The reader must decide.