From Kirkus Reviews:
The girl next door tells all. And guess what? She doesn't have a shred of dirt on anyone, including Walt Disney, Dick Clark, Fabian, Paul Anka, or even Cubbie. What else would one expect from Annette Funicello but an overly nostalgic portrait of the decade that gave rise to Disneyland, TV shows like The Mickey Mouse Club, rock 'n' roll, and teen idols? The happy story of Annette's youth in Los Angeles, Disney's discovery of her, her emergence as the biggest Mouseketeer of all, her subsequent television, movie, and recording careers, her two marriages (the second blissful, the first not that bad), her lovely children, and her heroic fight against multiple sclerosis are enough to keep anyone away from the sugar bowl for life. At the same time, Funicello's honesty and sincerity keep the whole thing from seeming untrue, no matter how much some sections beg for her to show Walt Disney in a single crabby moment, Dick Clark flying off the handle at the Drifters, or Fabian being all hands on a date with her. And she leaves to the imagination what proposed movie storylines like ``Annette the Doper, Annette the Hooker, Annette the Drunk'' might have been like. Other than her struggle with MS, though, the worst moment is Paul Anka saying something unkind to her on the telephone. But Annette (with Romanowski, who co-authored Dreamgirl: My Life as a Supreme) manages to avoid being precious. In fact, her account of being among the first visitors to Disneyland and a barrage of information about performing with people like Frankie Avalon make for some quite illuminating sections. And she even admits to smoking and a little drinking. By the end, Funicello is able to look back without taking any of it, especially albums like Italianette and Hawaiianette, too seriously. (Doubleday Book Club selection) -- Copyright ©1994, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.
From Booklist:
Reader beware: Annette Funicello's autobiography is so sugary your teeth will hurt after reading it. It's safe to say that if Funicello hadn't disclosed her battle with multiple sclerosis last year, there would probably be no book, since her career effectively ended in the early 1970s. Her health problems are the most affecting part of the account, especially in contrast to descriptions of the cotton-wrapped life she led before the disease struck. A squeaky-clean teen idol, protected by the Disney Studio, an ideal daughter, living at home until she married, a woman whose highest calling was motherhood--Annette personifies another era. The 1950s did exist in real life like they did on TV, and Annette is proof of it. Sometimes, however, her na{‹}ivet{‚}e is a bit hard to swallow, especially when it comes to her near adoration of Walt Disney, the man who discovered her. Throughout, in the drippiest fashion possible, she praises her mentor. Annette must not have read the recent bios that paint Walt as a fascist-leaning, alcoholic anti-Semite. This opus has all the substance of an overlong People magazine article, but that's not to say plenty of boomers, the intended audience, won't get a kick out of flashing back to such Mousketeer memories as Spin and Marty and Anything Can Happen Day--and, of course, the way Annette filled out her sweater. Ilene Cooper
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