He was one of the most successful prime-time TV producers of the 1980s, but don't look for Hollywood dirt in Gary David Goldberg's memoir, subtitled "How I Went From Brooklyn to Hollywood With the Same Woman, the Same Dog and a Lot Less Hair." Goldberg doesn't really tell tales out of school.

But the book is worth reading for the gentle, humorous storytelling of its author, who comes across as a mensch of a guy in a cutthroat business.

The book's title comes from the producer's vanity card that turned up on TV screens nationwide at the end of TV programs Goldberg produced. Viewers saw the picture of a black Labrador retriever with a Frisbee in his mouth and heard Goldberg say, "Sit, Ubu, sit. Good dog!"

Goldberg's beloved Ubu first came to viewer attention on "Family Ties," the NBC sitcom that introduced the world to Michael J. Fox. Ubu continued to appear through the years following series that were disappointing ("Sugar Hill"), good ("Day by Day"), popular ("Spin City") and fantastic-but-little-seen ("Brooklyn Bridge").

Fans of the short-lived "Brooklyn Bridge," Goldberg's ode to a 1950s childhood in the New York City borough, will appreciate the author's deft touch with recollections of his childhood and family.

"Sit, Ubu, Sit" jumps around in time -- from the mid-1980s "Family Ties" era, to tramping around the world with his future wife, Diana, in 1972 to that Brooklyn childhood in 1954 -- which could prove difficult to follow in lesser hands, but Goldberg crafts a story that hangs together well.

Unlike so many life stories written by those who work in the entertainment industry, Goldberg's stands out because he's more interested in writing about his whole life, not just his career.

He may have stumbled into the TV business, but he's not a Hollywood guy. The book is as much a story of love and devotion -- to Diana, to his daughters, to Ubu, to his childhood friends -- as it is the adventures of a guy who made millions of American TV viewers laugh.

Goldberg spends a fair amount of time dissecting his relationship with Fox, which fell apart for a time when the pair didn't see eye-to-eye on the direction of ABC's "Spin City" (Goldberg left the sitcom after a couple of seasons).

But he barely mentions the production company he built after the success of "Family Ties." He alludes to troublesome actors and executives he worked with, but Goldberg doesn't name them.

That lack of go-for-the-jugular, tell-all tone may disappoint some industry onlookers, but Goldberg's sincerity, self-deprecating sense of humor and his relationship with the book's title character make "Sit, Ubu, Sit" a breezy, lighthearted diversion -- the feel-good sitcom of Hollywood memoirs.

-- Rob Owen, Post-Gazette TV editor

By Jake Rassen Chicago Review Press ($16.95)

Comic book writer Mark Millar pens the foreword to Jake Rassen's insightful look inside the Superman franchise -- comics, radio, television, film and everything else (even the Broadway musical) that's managed to milk a buck out of the messianic Man of Steel.

The foreword stands largely as two pages of conceit, but Millar rightly sets up Rassen's clever and compelling behind-the-scenes story with these words: "In Superman terms, I was like a Virgin reading this: Touched for the very first time."

Ditto. If you don't mistake this for another textbook examination of the Superman mythology, you'll find this plump with new information about Hollywood's love-hate relationship with the one true superhero. The book's overly long subtitle -- "How Fiendish Producers, Devious Directors, and Warring Writers Grounded an American Icon" -- is detailed down to the last dollar, rumor and anecdote.

"Grounded," of course, isn't exactly right. Superman has soared right through and over Hollywood, thank you -- most recently with Bryan Singer's "Superman Returns," closing in on a $400 million worldwide box-office haul. Still, you'll marvel at how many studios, actors, directors and producers have been left with empty hands in various efforts to climb onto our hero's broad shoulders.

Most notable for Pittsburghers was the squelched Tim Burton movie that was to be filmed here, with Nicolas Cage in the title role, Jim Carrey likely as the villainous Brainiac and Chris Rock as Jimmy Olsen. Jon Peters, who was backing the project (using the remnants of a Kevin Smith script), had already invested $20 million in the construction of sets even as Burton scouted the city for locations.

The script, however, would have introduced an unrecognizable Supes -- in a new black outfit adorned with mechanical gadgets. If you're thinking Batman here (and that's a character already on Burton's resume), you're beginning to understand why that Superman didn't fly.

That's but one chapter. For heaven's sake, even the ridiculous "Supergirl" earns its own chapter. That's how substantive Rassen is ... from middle to end.

If the book has a deficiency, it's in the beginning. The early Hollywood years -- those amazing Max Fleischer cartoons and the radio serials with Kirk Alyn -- aren't as fully explored as the television and film adaptations that followed.

That's a minor nitpick. Virtually everything else in here is guaranteed to engage readers and, perhaps except for the most novice of fans, educate them. We've all heard Christopher Reeve landed the role after consideration of everyone from Bruce Jenner to Robert Redford to Sly Stallone. But ... Neil Diamond?!?

And it was intriguing to read about the Last Son of Krypton's willingness to tackle racism (the Ku Klux Klan directly) and anti-Semitism almost from day one.

Rassen even includes an extensive source list, adding a welcome sense of authority to a book that tops 300 pages.

All things considered, "Superman vs. Hollywood" may not be the definitive word on an American icon, but it comes about as close as Clark Kent to his alter ego.

-- Allan Walton, Post-Gazette AME/Multimedia