Hello, you Monday warriors—you who were brave enough to drag yourselves out of bed today and face a new week, despite all the wild, absolutely crazy, shockingly jarring conditions of the world we inhabit.

I’ve just wrapped up the proofreads for The English Bookstore in Bologna, which lands in August. I wish I had a time machine, because I want to get there, to know you have this baby in your hands.

If you’re curious about the editing process with a publisher, here’s how it works. After giving my all to a book and being swallowed and kicked and tortured and mutilated by my first deadline, I spend two or three months going back and forth with a developmental editor, who analyzes the book from a wide purview and offers thoughts around tweaking characters, finding ways to amplify momentum, making the hits hit harder, and drawing more emotion out of my readers.

I have a little break and wait for the copyedits, which address grammar and diction and general errors. The copyeditors always catch some timeline debacle that I have to wrap my head around, which is not easy after having stepped away from my book for a while. Actually, my hell is wrestling with timeline issues during copyedits.

Then the proofreading round, which is a chance to catch typos, check my timeline again, and run any foreign language checks. I had some help from an Italian and a Japanese expert on this one, the latter of which schooled me on the various ways to make chawanmushi, which is a Japanese savory egg custard.

Afterwards, there’s the cold read—the last line of defense. The cold reader uses their eagle eye to catch any last-minute issues before publication, and then it’s off to the printer and headed for your eyeballs and ears.

Before I get into Theo, this is your final reminder to read or listen to Andy Weir’s Project Hail Mary before the movie comes out. The book was a stunner, and from what I understand, we’re going to love it on the big screen.

I have completed Theo of Golden and am excited to share my thoughts. In a few words: you need to read it. As a novelist and creator who professes that all people want is gossip and carnage, I stand corrected with this one. It’s not that kind of book at all.

In fact, if you’re in a rush and looking for something to tear you out of reality—that kind of page-turning dizziness that some books give you—this is not it. This is a book to savor.

That being said, you don’t have to work too hard. It’s a wonderful story that pulls you in and gives you a character, Theo, who you will adore. Unless you’re broken inside, or soulless.

I jumped on this train because I like to keep up with what’s soaring through the charts, and because so many people suggested that, in this day and age, we need a book like this. I see exactly what they mean. After almost every reading session, I walked away feeling more whole inside. I definitely shed tears. Also, I highly recommend the audio, as David Morse takes the story to an entirely new level.

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Theo is the kind of character who we all want in our lives, someone who inspires us, teaches us. In fact, he reminds me of one of my mentors, a fellow named Jack, who spends his summers on Peaks Island. Both Theo and Jack have giant hearts and give and give and give, truly caring about those around them. They embody that wonderful idea that I t’s better to give than to receive, and in doing so, they make the world a better place. I certainly closed this book in the throes of an awakening, as if challenged to live bigger and brighter, with love leading the way.

**Itty bitty spoiler ahead: What’s really funny is that Allen Levi, the author, broke a seemingly essential rule of storytelling. I can’t think of any other mainstream fiction off the top of my head that does this. He features a protagonist that has no arc.

Typically, when we authors write, we’re looking to create a flawed protagonist who grows over the course of the story. In the case of Theo, he’s a totally static character. He’s enlightened from the first page to the last. I’m not even sure you could say he changes. Maybe he was ninety-nine percent enlightened and completed his journey while in pursuit of his goal to share Asher’s drawings. Why this technique works is that he affects change on everyone else. All of the supporting cast have arcs, thanks to Theo!

So much of why this story is great is that Allen’s not writing from a place of overthinking story structure, he’s writing from his heart. He’s a debut author, but he’s been a traveling musician all his life, a storyteller at his core. Reading his novel is like listening to a guy up on stage with a guitar sharing an uplifting tale.

Not that the book reads like a debut novel. He has a masterful way with words. I love his descriptions—not too much, just right. I adore the dialogue, and even more so the letters that Theo writes to the people he’s gifting paintings to. There’s a brilliant elegance, and it’s so clear to me that Allen is a wise man who’s been through a lot and knows how to share it in a way that affects his audience.

There’s probably a specific time in everyone’s life—or in this coming year—when this book will be best for you. It found me in the quiet season, snow piling up outside, nowhere to go. It’s the kind of book you settle into by the fireplace, falling into its easy rhythm. It reads almost like a jazz ballad, the way it takes you away if you can slow yourself enough to catch the magic.

It feels like the kind of book that authors are lucky to snag once in a lifetime—that book we were meant to write. Though very different on so many levels, I can’t help but think of a couple more that are like that. Garth Stein’s The Art of Racing in the Rain. I haven’t read his other works, but I don’t think they’ve had the same impact. And I suspect some of that is because he had a lot of pressure to follow up with a big hit, but more importantly, because he was channeling something very deep when he wrote The Art of Racing in the Rain. He was quite possibly realizing his purpose.

The other book I think about is The Nightingale by Kristin Hannah. I’ve read several of her books, and she’s such a great writer, but The Nightingale, for me, was next level. I don’t know that I’ll ever forget that book.

Theo of Golden falls into that category. It’ll be interesting to read his follow-up and see if he can make magic twice.

The book won’t shock you. It won’t grab you. At least not like a thriller. What it will do is remind you of the power of story, and the power of people. Perhaps most importantly, it’ll remind you of the power that you have within yourself.

Lastly, I did a little digging and learned that there was an actual coffee shop with ninety-two portraits on the wall, all by one of Allen’s friends, Garry Pound. If you’re curious, here’s the link to his work. Something tells me Garry is charging more than he was a year ago.

So long, friends. Thanks for reading.

boo

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