A little disappointed in The Art of Fielding, so far

Fun as it is, I do think Chad Harbach's "The Art of Fielding" is becoming ever more a melodrama and less and challenging work of literary fiction - for those who don't care about these distinctions and just want to enjoy reading a good book, have at it - there's nothing wrong with Fielding and it's entertaining and snappily written, but I have to say it's not living up to the potential I saw in the first few chapters. Maybe I was expecting a book much more about baseball - it's an element, but a fading element, in this tale of campus romance and, most disturbingly, a strange homosexual courtship between two real unequals, the college president and an undergrad - wouldn't he realize what a serious transgression this is and resist the temptations? - and I expected more of a literary book, perhaps because of the many Melville references in the early chapters, but these themes move to the sidelines, so to speak, and although we get a literary allusion here and there (some funny snatches of Keats and Eliot, e.g.) it's a book that's mostly dialog-driven and without a lot of complexity - more like a tapestry, with strands woven together, than a symphony, with echoes and resonance. It's a good novel, highly entertaining, but a little less than it promised at the start I'm afraid.