Date Published: 07-01-2025
Publisher: Sunbury Press, Inc.
Pressured by his pregnant wife to finish his novel or take a secure job at a prestigious ad agency, Ben must also navigate the era’s class divisions and antisemitism. His best friend’s elite world clashes with his working-class South Philly roots and Jewish identity.
Temptation, ambition, and loyalty collide—especially when Ilene, a captivating classmate, threatens to unravel his carefully balanced life. As the Phillies’ Whiz Kids chase a pennant, Ben’s own reckoning builds to a climax, culminating in a surprising decision that redefines his future.
Co-written with David S. Burcat, Joel Burcat’s late father, Whiz Kid is a deeply American story of resilience, legacy, and the true cost of following one’s heart.
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David S. Burcat was a Navy corpsman in World War II, a graduate of University of Pennsylvania (English Literature and Dentistry), and a proud son of Camden NJ and his adopted town of Philadelphia. He worked in advertising in the 1950s before returning to Penn to study dentistry. He wrote Match Point, the novella within the novel, in about 1950. He died in 1998. Whiz Kid- A Novel is his first published book. Dave was the father of co-author, Joel Burcat.
Joel Burcat and David S. Burcat
[Ben Green is talking with his friends
about his professor’s reaction to a chapter of his novel. He’s glum.]
Ben sat next to Stan, facing Ilene. She
looked at him and gently touched her fingers to the top of his hand. “What is
it, Benji? You don’t look so good.”
Ben slowly pulled his hand out from under
hers, turning it over briefly to squeeze her fingers before letting go. “Oh,
it’s nothing. You know I’m writing this novel. I showed it to Chesterfield. He
called it ‘interesting.’”
“Interesting? That’s good, isn’t
it?” asked Stan, raising his eyebrows and smiling.
“That might be the single-most
intentionally vague word in the English language. It means absolutely nothing.
Nothing. Interesting painting. Interesting play. Interesting
manuscript. It’s a nice way for the professor to say ‘no comment.’” Ben rested
his elbow on the table and put his hand on his chin. “Hey, Ilene, give me one
of those Kents, would you?”
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