How do I know this? Because I read her book I’ll Have What She’s Having, which � despite the subtitle, How Nora Ephron’s Three Iconic Films Saved the Romantic Comedy (a tagline undoubtedly penned by some editor at Hatchett Press in an attempt to sell this lame manuscript) � is one long IMDb entry of movie trivia, right down to who showed up at the Mann Theater premiere of Sleepless in Seattle and what they wore.

Ms. Carlson begins her book with bios: first, Nora Ephron’s (a lot about Nora Ephron), then a shorter one for Meg Ryan, and then an even more abridged lifestory for Tom Hanks, with no backstory on Billy Crystal (what was he, chopped liver?).

Most of the first three chapters reads as though Ms. Carlson ran out of Adderall and couldn’t focus long enough to connect one paragraph with the next: a stream of consciousness hodgepodge that skips around mercilessly from one subject to another, one time period to another, one romantic partner to another, with no transition or cohesion.

Then, in the last two sentences of Chapter 3, she suddenly learns what a transition is and employs it. Huzzah!

For a while, the book becomes readable, maybe even a little enjoyable. I hope it will continue to improve. But that is not to be. Instead, Ms. Carslon continues with her scattershot name-dropping and pointless picayunes.

Listen, I like movie trivia. And I love these three iconic films. I can recite scenes from them by heart. But the bulk of Ms. Carlson’s drivel has nothing to do with saving the Hollywood romcom. Somewhat ironically, that topic is best covered in the Introduction and Afterward.

If I had known at the get-go that this book was a Variety-type exposé on the “sausage-making� behind some of my favorite films, I might have given it another star. Though probably I would have given it a pass. Ms. Carlson robs the screen of its magic by deconstructing everything: the wall color on a set, the use of a name, the recasting of a role. Often she details to death the tiniest subconscious visual until it is ruined, and I can never watch it again without thinking, Oh yeah, it took the crew all day to string the lights on that boat passing by on the lake. Not, Ooh, how beautiful and yet so poignant.

Snarky as my comments may sound, this is not the review I wanted to write, and it pains me to do so. But unless you’re the kind of person who sits through all the end credits on a movie reel, even reading the names of the catering staff and the assistant to each actor’s driver, save your time and your eyes for something better. Or simply enjoy the eight total pages of Intro and Afterward, and skip the Spam in between.