I like Henry Winkler. He appears to be a genuinely nice guy, with many facets to his life. So, why wasn't this book more interesting to read? I grew tired of his constant self-effacement. It became repetitive. No matter the achievements, the accolades, the personal success of a great marriage, and so many other positives, he doesn't ever believe he's worth anything. It was hard to keep reading it.
First person narration can be difficult to pull off without sounding braggy or all-knowing. He does this well. It's his story, but he's generous to those he's interacted with along the way, with few exceptions (and his parents probably don't deserve much consideration).
The writing was decent. The flow of the narrative made sense. His wife added some needed perspective. A little less of how badly he felt about himself would have made this a stronger book.