Tom Hanks has more than one talent, that’s for sure; or perhaps he is an artist that’s ridiculously talented at telling stories, whether they be on the page or screen. One thing I’ll tell you now: I am completely convinced that he did indeed write this book himself, and it’s damn good, too.

My thanks go to Net Galley and Alfred A. Knopf Publishing for the review copy. This book is for sale now.

The story begins with a child prodigy, an artist living in Lone Butte, California, who as he matures, becomes a comic book illustrator. Fast forward about thirty years, and that comic becomes a movie.

Our story doesn’t have just one protagonist, and it is intentional, or so it appears to this reviewer. We have the big boss, Bill Johnson, his assistant, Candace, and the assistant she recruits in Georgia, Allicia. We learn something of their backgrounds and their personalities, but mostly, we see how important they are to the success of the movie. When the movie is finished with Atlanta, Allicia, who now goes by Al, comes along and is eventually promoted; she then finds someone to take her place. We learn more about other people that are working the production, and I am amazed by the sheer number of people involved, and how much must be done to keep everyone on an even keel. Eventually we meet the two big stars of this action movie; one is hardworking, cooperative, and comes up with a host of useful ideas; the other is an egotist, a Do-You-Know-Who-I-Am type, and everybody walks on eggshells in an effort to make him happy, and to make him want to show up and do his job.

In the hands of a less talented writer, this whole thing might feel list-like, but Hanks sculpts these characters so that I feel I know them, and I care about what happens to them.

There’s more than a little wry humor in this tale, and the copious footnotes at the end of each chapter are a part of that. I read them all, because some of them are hilarious, but readers that lack the patience for it can breeze right on by them without missing anything critically important. And here’s a nugget that cracked me up:

“Of late, Bill had been using military-style call words rather than expletives. Fuck was Foxtrot. Asshole was Alpha Hotel. Cocksucker? Charlie Oscar Charlie Kilo Sierra.”

As a bonus, artist Robert Sikoryak has written the comics themselves, and they are included in the book. Those that love comics should probably get this book in hard cover, because a lot of the detail is hard to see in the digital version that I read. As for me, I don’t give one single poo about comics, and I skipped them.

Movie buffs will be fascinated with the vast amount of movie making minutiae here. I am not a big movie viewer, but I eat it all up, anyway, because I had no idea of the amount of time, personnel, and materials necessary to creating a major movie, masterpiece or otherwise.

Although he doesn’t beat the drum hard enough to distract from the overall story, Hanks’s message is crystal clear: everyone involved in creating a movie is important. If the crew doesn’t have enough restrooms, it affects the movie. If nobody brings lunch to the set, some people will be miserable and perform below par, whereas others will slip away in search of food and not be available when needed. And if just one person is a horse’s ass and drags his feet, or if he blabs things to the press that aren’t supposed to be released yet, he can add millions of dollars to the cost of the production. Here’s a perfect quote:

“What advice can you give us to make it in Hollywood?” She talked about the great divide between solving problems and causing them, and the importance of being on time.”

Through all of this, I keep wondering when we will see the young artist that made the comic again. If we started with him, it makes sense we will see him again at some point, right? Yes. This detail—along with every other—is done beautifully.

There’s not one thing about this book that I don’t love, and the feel-good ending is icing on the cake. Highly recommended to those that love movies as well as excellent fiction.