I came across this book accidentally and enjoyed it immensely. I don’t know how I never heard of it or Marvin Cohen before. My guess it that it was not marketed properly by the publisher and it just disappeared, or that the writing style was just a little too “experimental” for its time. I found this review from 1976 which pretty much sums it up:
“[Like] something out of the brain of a poetic trash compactor fed on ten years’ accumulation of The New York Review of Books and As the World Turns. Cohen is bewitched by the novelty of the novel. He uses plot and language not to tell a story, but to discover and utilize all the lavish possibilities and pleasures these provide. This book is a writer’s lark, yet also a benign ramble through the Disneyland of a literary man’s literature.” — Ron Whyte, Soho Weekly News
Big fan of Cohen's short fiction, but I can't help but think that his particular skillset is not ideally suited for novel-writing (although somehow, I still want to check out his other novels). I found this mostly pretty tedious.