Newsletter #10 - The Gift of a Shared Experience
Updates
April feels like the right month for a book like Theo of Golden. There's something about spring — nature reawakening, imploring you to slow down a bit to connect more deeply with the world around you — that is reflected in many of the themes from Allen Levi's book. Sunsets, riverside benches, and starling formations will forever remind me of this story.
Tonight is this month's in-person book club meeting.
The Wild Gentleman Book Club
Tuesday, April 28th at 6:00 PM
Paddy's Public House in West Newton
We'll be reading and discussing Theo of Golden by Allen Levi. New to the group? Come anyway. We've been growing every month, and these conversations are designed for men who are showing up — whether they've read every page or just the back cover.
RSVP here: https://luma.com/0l4ourvy
Questions? Reach me at dennis@thewildgentleman.com.
Read on.
New Benefits for The Wild Gentleman Paid Members
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The Wild Gentleman in March
In March, we gathered to discuss George Saunders's recent publication, Vigil.
More than any of the books we have read, Vigil had mixed reviews among the group. Our conversation took a few unexpected turns — voluntary death planning, legacy, personal successes and struggles, and camping trips. That's the thing about this group — the book always ends up being a door, not a destination.
This month we're reading Allen Levi's Theo of Golden.
This is one of my favorite books we have read, and I can't wait to discuss.
Levi self-published this novel in 2023, when he was in his sixties, and, through word-of-mouth, it grew in popularity, eventually being picked up by Simon & Schuster and recently landing at #1 on the New York Times bestseller list.
The book, described as being "sentimental" and an example of out-of-fashion "liberal-minded Christianity," follows an 86-year-old man named Theo who mysteriously arrives in a small, fictional southern town called Golden, which has an idyllic college town vibe marked by street musicians, small bookshops, and a populace inclined to an appreciation for art and the other fine things of life. There, he discovers pencil portraits of the townspeople hanging on the walls of the local coffeehouse, which he then gifts to the people depicted. These bestowals often come with a story, incredible and positive insights on the nature of the portrait subjects by Theo, and, most often, a life-changing experience.
For the men who come to these meetings — many of us in midlife, asking hard questions about purpose, being present, being creative, recognizing the beauty surrounding us, and what we're leaving behind — this book raises exactly the right questions.
I'm looking forward to the conversation.
Get your copy of Theo of Golden on The Wild Gentleman section of Bookshop.org: The Wild Gentleman | Bookshop.org
The Power of Giving
There is nothing I enjoy more than gifting books to friends, colleagues, and family without explanation.
Often, there is no note. No text warning it's coming. Just the book left on a desk, shipped via Amazon or Bookshop.org, dropped in a mailbox.
The book might be a recommendation. But more often than not, it's a conversation, an unspoken outreach, a nudge, a passing on of experience or wisdom. The gift of a book isn't just the story that's within its pages. It is an acknowledgment of friendship. It is a notice of appreciation. It is an invitation to push oneself further. The gift is all the roads that may emerge from engaging with the literature or advice.
I've been thinking about this since I started reading Theo of Golden.
The mysterious Theo doesn't ship the portraits he discovers in the small coffee shop in Golden to their subjects. He doesn't leave them on doorsteps. He sends handwritten invitations — actual letters, pen to paper — requesting a meeting at the centrally located town fountain. Theo shows up in person. He sits with each person, listens to their story, and presents the gift only then. The bestowal isn't complete without the presence. What he's returning isn't just a likeness in pencil. It's proof that someone was paying close enough attention to see them clearly.
The message underneath every portrait is the same: You matter.
Theo is sure to reiterate this important point with his own, uncannily astute, meditation on the souls, emotions, and potential he sees within each portrait.
The Power of Giving a Story
A book can do that as well.
When you give someone the right book, something true and magical occurs. You're saying profound and bold: I see you here, in this book, in this story. Which means I know you well enough to recognize you in the wide, wild world.
And receiving the right book? Knowing a person well enough that the gift of a book lands? That takes time — or an intuition that may be more profound than we could ever imagine. It takes the willingness to pay attention. And it requires a kind of risk — a creative act, an acknowledgment that this book moved you, that it is somehow the truth you've wanted to reveal but didn't have the words to do so.
I recently recounted the story of how one of the best gifts I ever received for Christmas was three books: The DaVinci Code, a special edition of The Lord of the Flies, and a collection of poetry, Good Poems, by Garrison Keillor.
I read The DaVinci Code the next day — with a short break for Midnight Mass in between. The Lord of the Flies edition still sits on my bookshelf, as does Good Poems, which is by far my favorite curated collection of poetry. These gifts revealed an earnestness to make a connection and an insightfulness to understand who I was — and, with it, a clear acknowledgment of something rare and profound.
No one had ever given me a gift displaying an understanding of who I truly was (even if I didn't know that yet). The gift of the books said, "I see you."
And, as all good stories need a conclusion, I must share that the woman who gave me those books has been my wife for twenty years.
Show Up, The Gift Isn't The Book
Most of us can be like that with the books we love. We want to share them. We don't quite know how or are afraid of how others will react to a truly intimate act of gifting a book.
Giving a book is an act of exposure. It says: Here is what I was reading at 11pm on a Tuesday when I couldn't sleep. Here is what I underlined because it said something I didn't have words for. Here is what I was thinking about when I thought of you. That vulnerability is why we hesitate. We hold on to the book a little longer, tell ourselves we'll give it when the moment is right.
Theo doesn't hesitate. He showed up. Every single time.
And to further dive into Theo's life in Golden, many of the deepest connections among the characters are through art. Music. Paintings. And, prominently, books are a means to share knowledge, experience, and, quite often, that unspoken appreciation, hurt, or respect that is felt by the characters, and us all.
If there's a book on your shelf right now — one you've been meaning to pass along — give it this week. Write something in the cover. Don't hesitate. Do it now. Say what you mean. The gift isn't the book. The gift is the act of paying attention to someone else's life.
The Gentleman Shares - Recent Thought-Provoking Reading and More
A few things worth your time this week:
How the Ivy League Broke America - David Brooks, The Atlantic
This is an older article, and it is a lot longer than I thought it would be, but it has a few thoughts about education in America that really caught my attention. The title is a bit of a misnomer, probably an attempt to gain more attention by going after the ivory towers, but the premise centers more on how the education systems in this country broke down, seemingly through the entropic American yearning for success, achievement, and renown. It reveals how we removed one system (legacy, aristocracy) and replaced it with a seemingly better one (intelligence and merit), only to arrive in a place arguably worse off than the education system (and social/political environment) that America had at the turn of the previous century.
Viktor Frankl's Man's Search for Meaning gets referenced, but this section stuck with me:
"We’ve just reestablished the old hierarchy rooted in wealth and social status—only the new elites possess greater hubris, because they believe that their status has been won by hard work and talent rather than by birth."
Brooks states that the new, wealth-emboldened elite believe they, “deserve” success, "for having earned it can make them feel more entitled to the fruits of it, and less called to the spirit of noblesse oblige."
Umm. See below.
An Oligarchy of Old People - Idrees Kahloon, The Atlantic
Related to the above.
"A majority of young Americans no longer believe in the American dream."
Kahloon then gives the reason: Millennials and Gen Zers blame Boomers, "accusing them of hoarding wealth, jobs, and power. Many of these accusations are inchoate, but they are not entirely baseless."
The New Masculinity of "DTF St. Louis" - Alexandra Schwartz, The New Yorker
This show is quite interesting, and this article breaks down the relationship between the main male characters. Schwartz asks what it would look like if straight men could access the kind of emotional closeness usually reserved for female friendships — without shame.
If you haven't seen the show, you should check it out. Just for the kick of Jason Bateman and David Harbour holding hands riding recumbent bikes after hitting up some local Missouri vineyards.
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Now go give someone a book.
Wild at Heart. Refined in Mind.
Dennis
