Today, I ended up gifting my 9th grade friend Einstein's book on relativity, a subject which no students gets to study in Pakistan's school before 2nd year in high school (read: F.Sc.). Although it's written in a very lucid and clear prose, but chances of his fully understanding quantum mechanics, lengthy proofs of relativity, 'mysteries' of general and special relativity seem bleak, but not beyond the bounds of possibilities. I know a friend, regarded as genius by the world, who wrote a very original and authentic book on mathematics and physics in tenth grade!
Nonetheless. For him as for everyone, tomorrow is never the same. I have books in my Philosopher's Corner (my room) as old as 14 years that I inherited from my father. When young, I used to wonder and fantasize about the lengthy books which are part and parcel of my life today. I can recall how oceanic all of it seemed - just too tremendous to get hold of. I rarely understood a word. Today, by just remaining in its company for so long, has helped to open up the treasures of knowledge to me. Maybe the same could work for him. As a long-term asset, its payback period won't be short, but the fruits - may Allah wills it - be immensely sweet and plentiful.
With these 'hopes and prospects', when he asked whether he could own it, I instantly gifted him this pillar of modern science (the book), without a second-thought, although I intended him to see it for a day or two.