An acquaintance of my sister's, and this book a gift from her, I had to read it. I also struck up a bit of an email correspondence with the author, not only because of my sister's connection, but also because my dad worked at Grossinger's in the 20s, where he met Mae West and Danny Kaye.
There are many good things in this book -- and I'm generally interested in New Yorkers born around when he was, the early 40s -- such people have lived an amazing journey through American eras. It's a bonus when they're a baseball fan.
But this thing is just far too self-indulgent -- he writes inside himself, often seemingly without even a glance at his words through his readers' eyes. Perhaps for the same reason, there are word choices that were simply mystifying, leaving me with no idea what he was getting at in a particular sentence.
Also, during his college years it gets very esoteric -- in quite a few passages I simply couldn't follow.
He'd clearly be a fantastic guy to be stranded on an island with, for conversation and his rich mind -- but I'm now scared to try any of his other books.