I think Stanley Crouch would have preferred to have titled this book "Genius Considering Genius", he clearly has such a high self-conception. I gave it a "3" and I rarely finish "3" books.
The first section, The Makers (p 40-154) is excellent. I enjoyed reading about specific jazz artists while listening to the music he was describing. After decades, I finally came to appreciate Louis Armstrong, listening to his latest, mature work rather than trying to get into his early New Orleans days with the Hot Five. I was introduced to the talents of Ben Webster, Wallace Roney and Andrew Hill. I came to better appreciate those I already knew and appreciated, Miles, Bird, Dizzy, Monk, Ahmad Jamal, Mingus, Ornette Coleman, Coltrane Sun Ra, and perhaps, most of all, Duke Ellington. For this section, I am very glad this book was written and that I read it.
Then there is the rest of this 339 page book, of which I read about 1/2. Why only 1/2? Because so much of it is rambling, eloquent, self-stroking babble. If the writing in these sections represents his drum playing, it is clear why he never made it as a jazz drummer. I guess you can get away with meandering, lifeless verbiage full of pointless and useless knowledge because there just are not that many jazz critics. He would have been thrown out of the top clubs if he tried to pass off that kind of stuff as actual jazz playing as opposed to jazz writing.
That having been said, Crouch's "Kansas City Lightning" about Charlie Parker is an absolutely wonderful book that showcases his very best writing. Who knows!?