What I respect in the Kopit double bill of one-acters [Sing to Me Through Open Windows and The Day the Whores Came Out to Play Tennis] is that these "absurd" playlets are trickily disguised confessions, impersonal expressions of what is essentially personal. (p. 373)

[One] may think of the brief Sing To Me Through Open Windows … as a boy's memory of a lost "father," whether "he" be a person, a way of life or a dream of the theatre's magic. This may strike one as overly sentimental; but a touch of unexpected color redeems it from banality.

The longer piece with the frisky title—The Day The Whores Came Out To Play Tennis—possesses a somewhat vicious extravagance that surprises one into risibility. Behind its nonsense lurks a revulsion from a wealthy Jewish business background…. The play develops a metaphor for a rootless urban middle class that is going...