I undertake the review of this book with trepidation. This is not said in awe or in mock humility, but in the honest belief that a review cannot encompass the book. Any space for review is oppressively small, words that one can use are too obtuse, and gains from a book such as this are too many to be adequately condensed. Nor is this feeling due to Koestler's erudition, immense as it is. Erudition, used alike by savants and pedants, is of little consequence unless put to constructive ends. I believe it was Morris R. Cohen, the philosopher and logician, who expressed that thought pithily in another connection: "Facts are meaningless except as parts of a system."
This is a book about the creative quality in man. It is a submission and particularly an evaluation of facts and observations, and above all, a speculation as to how these are involved