Background I knew nothing about the novel Theo of Golden, but I wanted to read it because I was heartened by the story of an older writer going viral with a debut after self-publication and then being picked up by Simon & Schuster. I asked for it for my birthday, and I received it (along with several other birthday books; I have a lovely family and friends). As a general rule, I only discuss books I think are worth reading. If I read something I don’t like, well, I’m a librarian who believes in books for everyone. Though I’m the wrong reader, the book will find the right one. An author, especially one who is published by a small press, can be hurt by criticism, so why engage in it? Better to lift each other up. However, a novel like Theo of Golden and its author, Allen Levi, can’t be harmed by a small voice like mine--and probably not by a booming voice, either. It has sold millions of copies worldwide and has been scheduled for a film starring Tom Hanks. So, I want to discuss it because it leaves me wondering about the future of fiction. Warning: I’m likely to include spoilers because I don’t think you should read the book. Theo of Golden Though the prefix ‘Theo’ means god, as a name it means a gift of God, and that is clearly what our protagonist is meant to be. Though he is 86 years old, this mystery man is healthy, wealthy, and wise, ready to solve others’ life problems. Theo is a curious stranger, making his list and checking it twice. He arrives in Golden just before Easter and departs a year later in my least favorite author ‘Get Me Out of This Book’ trick—defenestration. By which I do not mean that another character tosses Theo off the balcony, but that Levi does it. One of the first things we learn in this novel is the hours of operation of the local coffee shop, the Chalice. (Get it? Get it? Because we have to have very clear religious metaphors in case the name Theo and the fact that he arrives just before Easter escape us.). So I thought the book would be a murder mystery and the hours would have something to do with solving it. But no, it’s just a beginning writer’s story with all the hallmarks of a self-published book. The excess of useless info dumps continues throughout the book, which would benefit from a good editor. At the Chalice, Theo finds that the coffee competes with the best of Europe. And he would know because he’s been everywhere, beginning with his native Portugal. The walls of the shop are covered with original pencil portraits of the town’s inhabitants. Masterpieces. This, too, Theo knows. In fact, he’s quite the expert on lots of things. Wine, liquor, art, music--you name it, Theo can birdwalk about it, as the novel roams over diverse topics that don’t drive the plot forward. The one thing that’s not discussed until after Theo’s death is who he really is and what he is doing in Golden. But this city of Golden, Georgia is one of the best he’s ever been to, a quaint, loving community in the God-Blessed American South. Theo decides to buy the pencil portraits from the Chalice, a few at a time, and then give them to the models. He sends each person a mysterious letter asking them to meet him in the park, tell him their stories, and receive the portraits. And while the town knows little about this man, including his last name, they do know that he has beautiful penmanship and a set of expensive stationery, so they trust him. Well, except one very bad man, who will also be easily dispensed with. The episodic structure of these meetings affords Levi the opportunity to include stories that are completely disconnected. Instead of incorporating necessary character development into the narrative, Levi often relies on info dumps by making a character read, say, a magazine article. The entirety of its contents is then included in the narrative. By page seventeen (of a grueling 384 pages), I was sorry to see Theo’s first letter to a portrait recipient, fearing that the book would be filled with the letters to all 92 of his beneficiaries. At least I was saved from that fate. Thanks for reading Be a Cactus! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work. Eventually Theo will play (unlicensed) psychologist to a number of the town’s inhabitants merely by listening and always knowing the right questions to ask and the right things to say. These inhabitants are as onion skin thin as he is. Levi tries to round out one of them—a Vietnam War veteran—by eventually detailing his trauma and PTSD. The problem is that the episode and its dialogue feel very unnatural and it doesn’t come off. It’s just another info dump. The man, a bookseller, is supposed to be seen as a kindly curmudgeon, but Levi is unable to manage it. The character is mostly irritating, his better nature never surfacing. Other briefly-appearing characters are cringeworthy. A Black man—other than a Nigerian doctor, he appears to be the single Black person in the novel (in Georgia, remember)—speaks in dialect. Another “little man” who is an “illegal,” causes a car accident that kills a woman. (No worries--everything is forgiven in the end.) Where, oh where, is the editor? The single three-dimensional character in the novel is Ellen, the self-described homeless woman. We learn about her worries over her bicycle and the chance that it might be stolen, her creative talents and how she employs them, and her grammar policing. As the novel mercifully ends, there are explicit comparisons between Theo and Jesus, including Theo’s springtime (Easter) death. And this is the deeper reason why I’m repelled by this novel. Here we have a savior who does not embody radical notions of love and sacrifice, never mind one who flips a bird to the religious and political authorities of his day. What Levi gives the reader is a man he finds as a better iteration of a savior: Santa Claus, with limitless resources to bestow just the right gifts to all the childish adults in his sphere. Ultimately, the publishing industry is not a meritocracy. It’s a business and the purpose is to make money. While I can’t be sure, I suspect Simon & Schuster knew Theo would be a cash cow ‘as is’ and didn’t bother with an editor. Still, I admire any author who is able to make a living from writing. As my mother used to say, when Levi is criticized, I’m sure he’s crying all the way to the bank. I imagine we will hear more from him. I saw this reported in Deadline: Warner Bros Locking Down Film Rights To Allen Levi Bestseller ‘Theo Of Golden’ With Tom Hanks To Star “The book was published wide by Simon & Schuster last October and has sold over 3.5 million copies stateside. It has been published in 43 languages and was a No. 1 bestseller in places like the Netherlands, Italy and the UK. Now it will be headed for the big screen, following the trajectory of books like Robert James Waller’s The Bridges of Madison County and a few others. Like that novel, Theo of Golden is particularly popular with a mature crowd of readers.” Hanks is the perfect vehicle for the character of Theo, especially if he can bring off a Portuguese accent. But one thing this article made me consider is that the novel is a worldwide hit. It’s not just Americans, then, who read like children. I couldn’t find professional reviews of Theo except a commentary published on Slate. Most of the things I had thought about were echoed there. I, too, thought that the vast response to this moralizing and saccharine Christianity could be compared to Harriet Beecher Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin. I read Stowe’s novel as an adult already knowing that it wasn’t a great piece of literature. However, Uncle Tom has historical value as a force in the abolitionist movement, having had a profound effect on readers of its time. Theo won’t be driving a political movement for human rights and will not be remembered in the future. When I thought about Theo being the worst book I’ve read in twenty years, the previous worst was Mitch Albom’s The Five People You Meet in Heaven, published in 2006 and recommended to me by a coworker and friend. Rebecca Onion, author of the Slate commentary, says the books are not alike because Theo has a plot. However, the plot is resolved in a sort of afterthought to the bloated book. So the two books linked in my mind as plotless. At least Five People was short. I mentioned a few weeks back that Joe Ponepinto wrote about the fact that people enjoy reading poorly written books. While not suggesting that Theo is an AI-authored book (it isn’t), he briefly suggests that it’s as bad as an AI book. And if that’s what we like, then maybe AI will take over publications. Reading Theo pushed me to a thought experiment. Let’s all bring forward our recollections of The Boxcar Children by Gertrude Chandler Warner, a novel written over 100 years ago for elementary school readers. I believe just about everyone has read it or has had it read to them. To jog your memory: Four orphaned kids decide to live in the forest because they are afraid of their grandfather, whom they believe to be cruel. They find an abandoned boxcar that they make into a home. After one of them falls ill, a local doctor figures out that they are his friend’s grandchildren and he gives grandpa, who is actually wealthy and kind, the heads up. The kids then live with gramps. They miss the boxcar, so he has it moved to his backyard. Afterwards, the kids use it as a clubhouse. They live happily ever after with the nice rich guy and have many thrilling adventures. Now: if the boxcar children were adults, would you read and enjoy the story? Because it seems that is what we are spending our lives doing—reading The Boxcar Children over and over again, looking for that same warm feeling of being cared for by the miraculously appearing rich relative. A particular paragraph in Theo struck me as I thought about this: “‘It’s