The book is long enough to do the movie justice, but the actual information on the making of the film is sparse. A lot of space is taken up with the careers of the various writers, actors, and crew, not necessarily a bad thing. However, after finishing the entire book, I can't recall any really fun anecdotes or amazing facts.
What I can remember isn't good. About half a chapter is devoted to people's perceptions of the film, most of it distastefully off-color (people with dirty minds see filth everywhere), including a porno novel, a paragraph of which the author reprints for us. It isn't often that I skip ahead when I read a book; in this case I wished I had skipped the entire chapter.
The book's final chapter, concerning contemporary spoofs, revivals, and tributes, is far more entertaining, even the unfavorable comments by non-fans. Certainly more interesting than perverted fantasies.
Conclusion: the book did little to satisfy my desire to know more about Casablanca. The good parts were pretty good; the bad parts were very bad. I recommend watching the movie again instead.
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