Above average low-key treatment, hampered primarily by a denouement that unnecessarily and paradoxically makes everything both more cosmic and tidier. It starts unpromisingly with a number of 1960s cliches: the protagonist Arnold is a bored defeated ad executive, the co-protagonist Claire is a free-thinking painter, and after the SFnal element is introduced (their minds unexpectedly melding at a cocktail party), several chapters that are primarily adult British male chases adult British female. But then, unexpectedly, the conventional plotting is halted. Arnold and Claire discover telepathy is something that can be passed on to others. That idea drives the remainder of the book. In an American novel, pulp adventure would take over at this point. Telepath though remains very focused on the individual and surprisingly plausible, until the aforementioned wrap-up.

Recommended, especially for fans of forgotten SF. ( )