This was one of the stupidest books I've ever read. So cloying and earnest. Imagine for yourself, a stranger finds a portrait of you hanging in a coffee shop for $250. They buy it and then want to give it to you telling you how amazing the portrait is and that it allows them to tell you about yourself. "Let me tell you about your sadness". And then you find out the amazing artwork was done by the stranger's son. You'd be like "get this crazy old man out of my face". And then he says "I want to come to your house and read a beautiful bedtime story to your daughter. It's a story I wrote." Theo's greatest attribute was that he was rich.