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So he, Cohen, writing with amazing energy but less like the twentysomething he is than a crotchety octogenarian on a month-long meth binge, has him, Laster, the virtuoso violinist, protege, financial supporter, and "performing monkey" for him, Schneidermann, the brilliant but obscure composer, supposed to perform the cadenza, launch instead into a 300-page verbal improvisational fusillade without so much as a single inhalation or rest beat (15 hours! So maybe I should read his short story collection, The Quorum, instead!), not so much a story as "talking, eulogizing, ranting, sermonizing" about his, Laster's, but more so his, Schneidermann's, life but more so a cultural/political/musical/religious/historical consideration of the entire 20th century and the end of classical culture from a Hungarian/German/Jewish/New York perspective. He, Cohen, will drive most readers away screaming "Oy! Too much is enough!" but they, the readers who stick around, will be delighted, if exhausted, which is why you, most public and academic librarians, should buy this, Cohen's, book, which might just become a cult classic.