Unintended Consequences by Jamie Kirkpatrick

Like almost everyone else in America these days, I’ve been reading Allen Levi’s debut novel, Theo of Golden. In fact, I finished it just this morning; I would have finished it days ago, but I purposefully slowed down to prolong my pleasure. I was enthralled by Mr. Levi’s story of a gentle but mysterious gentleman who arrives unannounced in a small southern city and proceeds to charm not only many of its inhabitants, but also all of those of us who found our way to this story. I don’t intend to write a review of the book, but I do want you to read it. You can thank me later.

A good book can touch its readers in so many ways. Mr. Levi’s deft prose is certainly up to the task of bringing Theo and a cast of supporting characters to life. The plot is both elegantly simple and ultimately moving. There weren’t too many twists and turns, just enough to keep me engaged and guessing. By the time I reached the end of the story, I sat with it for a long time, savoring the journey and chastising myself for not having seen “it” coming. Enough said.

Of all the thoughts that Theo of Golden engendered in me, the one I want to share with you here is about unintended consequences. Don’t worry: these consequences have nothing to do with the story so I’m going to spoil your fun. But life can be full of unintended consequences so I’m using Theo’s story as a springboard to musing about how such matters can impact our lives despite their random and seemingly inconspicuous provenance.

Theo hails from the Duoro River valley of Portugal. As every oenophile knows, the Duoro region is home to the world-famous vineyards that produce the variety of grapes used to craft Port wine, the slightly sweet quaff that can finish off a gourmet or, that matter, even the simplest of meals. Port is delicious in any given year, but every once in a while, the elements of its production—soil, sunlight, rainfall—align in such a way as to produce an extraordinary harvest.  These are bottled as “Vintage” Ports, and rare though they are, they raise the standard of Port to Everest levels.

At one point in Theo’s story, he celebrates a friend’s birthday with a bottle of vintage port. Allen Levi’s description is so masterful that I felt as though I were drinking a glass with Theo. In fact, the next day, I headed off to the local liquor store. When I got there, I asked he clerk where i might find vintage port. He looked at me and said, “OK; what’s going on? You’re the tenth person today who’s asked me where we keep vintage Port. We sell a bottle or two in any given month… so, why ten in one day all of a sudden?”

“Ask Theo,” I said.

“Who’s this Theo guy everyone is taking about?”

“Never mind.”

And that’s the unintended consequence of Theo’s tale: a run on vintage Port. Had I really been on my game, I would have invested in Port futures a month ago and made a killing, but, alas, I have neither the foresight nor the funds to play that game. But that’s OK; I’m more than satisfied with Theo’s magical tale and the fruits of its unintended consequence.

Saúde!

I’ll be right back.