I read this book as a teenager and absolutely loved it. For decades, I could not remember enough about it to find it again. Not the author's name, nor the plot, nor the name of a character. I knew the cover was blue and white, the title had the word "color" in it, and the main character was a writer.
Finally, recently--nearly 40 years after first reading--I found it again. I was a little uncertain opening this worn, used paperback. Not everything we love in high school holds up.
Before I'd finished the first sentence, I remembered the character, the setting, the feel. 50 pages later the bathwater was long cold and I reluctantly stepped out still reading.
I see reviews are mixed, and I've no idea whether this book is compelling if you're not a writer. But if you are--not by trade or as a hobby but fundamentally, in the fabric of your soul--I suspect you will feel this book more than read it.