By Becky Holland
Some books entertain you. Some books quietly ask you to pay attention to people. Theo of Golden does the second.
Written with the heart of a servant and the compassion of an artist, the novel unfolds almost like a collection of connected vignettes.
Each chapter introduces a new perspective, a new layer, or another glimpse into the lives of the people surrounding Theo. The writing itself is thoughtful and observant, the kind that notices humanity in small moments.
There is care in these pages. The characters feel lived in rather than manufactured, and the author clearly understands people — their hurts, hopes, loneliness and longing for connection.
At times, the structure felt less like a traditional novel and more like stories woven together under one umbrella. That worked beautifully in many places, allowing each character room to breathe and tell their own story.
As much as I admired the writing, though, I found myself wanting something more emotionally by the end.
Something felt unfinished or missing for me personally. It was a good book — well written and meaningful in many ways — but not necessarily a favorite. Even so, I can appreciate the quiet beauty and humanity the author brought to the page.
Books do not always have to become favorites to still be worth reading.
And perhaps that is part of Theo of Golden’s strength. It invites reflection more than excitement.
I have since passed the book along to my older sister, which somehow feels fitting for a story built around people, perspective and connection.
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