Kim

"We have to part from Kim in the flush of his first victory, when the down is barely sprouted upon his shapely lip, and the women, one and all, who soften to his beauty, are summarily dismissed from his consciousness as those who "eternally pester" him!

We long to know more, but feel that it would be greedy to ask it; for, bald as this outline of a plot may seem, the little book, like the country where the scene of it passes, is infinite.

It contains the whole of India,-incalculably rich, unspeakably poor: with its teeming cities, barbaric, uralt; its forgotten temples crumbling to decay in the dusk of "caverns measureless to man;" its ravenous holy rivers and heart-breaking stretches of burning plain, and the overpowering grandeur of that mountain barrier upon the north, which dwarfs all the other highlands of the globe into practicable hills. ... He who has thus been predestined will salute in Kim a work of positive genius, as radiant all over with intellectual light as the sky of a frosty night with stars; the most truly spirituel production, in the proper sense of the term, of this or many seasons.

He will find something upon every page which he desires to quote." - The Atlantic, December 1901