I had started this earlier in the year, put it down, finished "The Air-Conditioned Nightmare" and picked this back up the next day, more to clear the decks than because I was so taken with this period of Miller's work.
There are several pieces in common with "The Air-Conditioned Nightmare" and it has that haphazard feel of a collection that was assembled of things written partly just to get by. His self-consciously writerly swagger contrasts sharply with the bourgeois self-effacement of the Anthony Trollope or Charles Ives type of artist.
The standout pieces here (for better or worse) are "Reunion In Brooklyn" where his disappointment with his (in his analysis) unhappy, uninteresting lower middle-class family (who are disappointed in him, for that matter) is acute, and several "Fragment[s] from 'The Rosy Crucifixion'". The latter are the beginnings of the "Sexus, Plexus, Nexus" trilogy, the modernist trilogy that took him 20 years to complete and one might say are his last great work, despite writing for another 20.