Some have protested that Cameron Crowe's book is far too messy to be taken seriously. Be that as it may, I just re-read it and love it intensely. Mr Wilder, dead by now, and his wistful tone of voice shine through at every turn. He was probably as incurably a romanticizer as the next guy, probably not averse to a white lie or two, but the books is brimming with new insights, oozing with old-world charm, and the relationship that continues to grow between the young biographer and his 93-year old subject is deeply affecting. Wilder will be severely missed, and Crowe's brilliant book is his legacy. Warmly recommended.