So … what have we here? [Is Momo a] crateload of schmaltz about there being honour even among whores (and their children)? At one level, yes. At another, we have one of the funniest, saddest, most humane, most readable novels for years. The detachment of the child, his kerbside cynicism, the immediacy of the narrative style, the hilarious misuse of language ('dramatic' for 'traumatic', 'artistic' for 'autistic')—these are the features which lift Momo far above the level of mere corn and into the stratosphere whence it was discerningly plucked by the jury of the Prix Goncourt. (p. 851)

John Naughton, "Rosa's Children" (© British Broadcasting Corp. 1978: reprinted by permission of John Naughton), in The Listener, Vol. 99, No. 2566, June 29, 1978, pp. 850-51.∗