I have this in-built mechanism that spurs me to retract from and deride the hugely popular or generally acclaimed. So it is that my fondness for both this book and the film makes me wonder whether it's just 'too easy' to be consistently blown away by them. I'm quite aware that this thinking is a rank and snobbish affectation of critical acumen which, when displayed by others, makes you want to fill the offenders pockets with sick. In this way, I'm more than happy to say that I love 'Rita Hayworth...'
Tonally, for me, it's King on fire. That conversational, confessional (?) style gets me. I'm sure there's a lot of film-love bias flooding my appreciation of the book, as it's almost impossible to read it without Robbins and Freeman in mind, so I'll pull this gushfest up short and end by saying I loved it.