Harry Golden is publishing too fast. As one of his staunchest admirers, I acknowledge this with regret and disappointment. I felt like a discoverer when I read Only in America: I was exultant when I felt he could do it again- in For 2Â¢ Plain. But now, with Enjoy, Enjoy! I have a sense of ""this is where I came in"". Perhaps it is because within the material selected here there seems much less variety of content and mood. There are too many pieces relating in one way or another to status; there is a kind of self consciousness about Judaism and anti-Semitism that was never noticeable before; there are some overlong, overstressed pieces that leave a question in the mind or a bad taste in the mouth (I felt this particularly in regard to The March to the Sea.) Here and there one finds again the same spontaneity and warmth and percipient humanity; but there is more of a man who gets around (he could hardly help it) and less of a home-spun philosopher observing and commenting on the world. Perhaps if one encountered him here first, the old magic would blaze. I had some chuckles and a few catches in the throat and now and again a sense of courage demanding recognition. And I am confident that his many admirers will not fail him. But I wish he could have waited to let us absorb his unique quality until we demanded more.