The curse of the child prodigy is living long enough to become your own ghost.

So it was with Michael Jackson in the quarter-century slide that followed his epoch-defining, still-brilliant "Thriller." Of course, hits came after that, along with the extenuating circumstances of his child-abuse trial that no doubt caused his creative silence in recent years. But such circumstances often dog ex-prodigies in lives that most of us can barely imagine.

Consider what's normal for too many prodigies: relentlessly pushy, impossible-to-please parents, worshipful public acclaim, and handlers who encourage whatever makes the kid feel good. It's amazing that more aren't like Tatum O'Neal, who won an Oscar at age 10 but has been in and out of drug rehab much of her life. Yet things could still turn around for her, which shows how loosely survival must be defined here.

The idea that the post-"Thriller" Jackson was a child prodigy in decline has been around for years; he is right in line with composers from Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart in the 18th century to Erich Wolfgang Korngold in the 20th. Both were brilliant child talents who transformed their worlds, Mozart on the opera stage and Korngold with lush 1930s and '40s scores to films like "Captain Blood." But Mozart's public abandoned him amid economic recession and Korngold became so outdated that he was laughed out of post-World War II music circles.

Career visibility can be a booby prize, and few earthlings are the subject of more intense focus than child prodigies. Relatively speaking, musicians such as soprano Beverly Sills and pianist Yevgeny Kissin have had it easy: That visibility is in a realm specialized enough to afford some semblance of private life. Consider the scorecards for generations of film and pop-music stars: Shirley Temple, Deanna Durbin, Judy Garland, Mickey Rooney, Elizabeth Taylor, Ron Howard, Jodie Foster, Brooke Shields, Diane Lane, Christina Ricci, Britney Spears. Some have enjoyed stable ground, some not.

The survivors have an inner durability from the beginning. Temple wasn't just charming but efficient, accomplishing the most complicated musical numbers in a single "take." Sills didn't just sing intricate coloratura, but knew that making it pay included living in second-rate hotels and cooking on a hot plate. Intelligence (as opposed to instinct) works: Foster and Shields temporarily quit their celebrity to attend Yale and Princeton, respectively.