I'm sad that nobody has reviewed this wonderful book. Or at least it ought to be wonderful, and maybe it is. I never got around to actually reading it, which only puts this author in the company of Proust.
The lack of a cover image robs this memorable work of what marvellous memorableness it presumptively has, or would have had, had it had it. That is because the words " Golfing for Cats" appeared over a huge red Swastika, for a most arresting bookshelf effect. It was 1976, a post=Watergate Bicentennial year of many excellent movies and quite lively national conversation by persons with considerably shorter and cleaner hair than previously. And there were bookstores and newsstands all over the place.
The cover was widely considered to be a triumph of Zeitgeist wrangling, insofar as it was said to successfully contain the three most potent sales concepts of the moment: golf, cats and...Nazis.
I don't know if anybody actually read the book (whereas everybody who has read 10 pages of Proust can't stop talking about it), but the cover is worth five stars any day.