Island

by Aldous Huxley

Most of them, as I was beginning to realize even then, belong to one or other of two distinct and dissimilar species—the Muscle People and the Peter Pans. I’ve specialized in the treatment of Peter Pans.” “The boys who never grow up?” Will queried. “ ‘Never’ is the wrong word. In real life Peter Pan always ends by growing up. He merely grows up too late—grows up physiologically more slowly than he grows up in terms of birthdays.” “What about girl Peter Pans?” “They’re very rare. But the boys are as common as blackberries. You can expect one Peter Pan among every five or six male children. And among problem children, among the boys who can’t read, won’t learn, don’t get on with anyone and finally turn to the more violent forms of delinquency, seven out of ten turn out, if you take an X-ray of the bones of the wrist, to be Peter Pans. The rest are mostly Muscle People of one sort or another.” “I’m trying to think,” said Will, “of a good historical example of a delinquent Peter Pan.” “You don’t have to go far afield. The most recent, as well as the best and biggest, was Adolf Hitler.”