Unraveled Wednesday: 4/29/26

I’m happy to join Kat and the Unravelers today with a completed hat for Justin. Now all that remains is the duplicate stitching of five animals. That should go quickly! ;-)

I was pleased that I was able to find all of my original notes from when I first knit this hat 13 years ago. It helped me with the counting and determination of where I should start with the duplicate stitching. Now all I need to do is thread my needle with "Doe" (the color at the bottom of the deer, which is actually a buck) and get going. I counted and marked the hat several times yesterday afternoon and once again last night, but just couldn't bring myself to start at night when my eyes were tired. I think this duplicate stitching might need to be done in morning light. But a journey of a bunch of duplicate stitches begins with a single one, which will likely be done a little later this morning. 

I finished two books this week. Allen Levi’s Theo of Golden is the kind of novel that feels intentionally gentle and almost parable-like in its structure and message. Centered on a mysterious stranger who quietly reshapes a small Southern town through acts of thoughtful generosity, the book leans heavily into themes of connection, creativity, and what it means to truly “see” another person.

What works best here is the episodic nature of the storytelling. As Theo returns the pencil portraits to their subjects, each interaction opens a small window into the lives of Golden’s residents. These vignettes are often touching and occasionally profound, capturing moments of regret, reconciliation, or quiet transformation. Allen Levi writes with a clear affection for humanity, and there’s an earnestness to the prose that will resonate with readers who enjoy reflective, heart-forward fiction.

That said, the novel’s strengths are also where it can feel a bit limited. The characters, while likable, sometimes come across more as vessels for ideas than fully fleshed-out people. Theo himself remains intentionally enigmatic, but the lack of deeper complexity left me wanting more substance beneath the symbolism. Additionally, the pacing can feel slow, especially if you’re looking for a more traditional narrative arc or rising tension.

Still, there’s something undeniably soothing about the book’s worldview. It asks readers to consider the quiet impact of kindness and the ways art and attention can restore dignity and connection. Even when it veers toward sentimentality, it does so with sincerity. Given the state of the world now, I can understand how so many readers feel comforted by books like this.

Overall, Theo of Golden is a thoughtful, quietly uplifting read, best suited for those who appreciate contemplative storytelling over plot-driven momentum. This was three and a half stars for me. 

 

A World Appears by Michael Pollan is an ambitious, wide-ranging exploration of one of the slipperiest subjects imaginable: consciousness itself. In true Pollan fashion, the book blends science, philosophy, personal reflection, and cultural inquiry into a narrative that is both accessible and intellectually curious. Only Michael could write a whole book about consciousness and end with this quote, "Because consciousness is the only means we have of knowing anything we can’t step outside it and take up a god-like perspective from which to render a final judgement. So where does that leave us? Exactly where we already were, wandering in the exitless labyrinth of consciousness."  

 

But Pollan excels at being a guide through this complex terrain. He translates dense neuroscientific debates and philosophical arguments into language that feels inviting rather than intimidating, and his curiosity is contagious. The sections that delve into competing theories of consciousness, particularly those that challenge strictly materialist views, are some of the most engaging. He also brings in unexpected perspectives, from plant intelligence to artificial intelligence, which keeps the scope feeling expansive.

At the same time, the book’s “panoptic” approach is both its strength and its limitation. Because Pollan casts such a wide net, some areas feel more like introductions than deep dives. Readers hoping for a more rigorous or conclusive argument may find themselves wanting more details. Pollan often seems more interested in opening questions than resolving them, but that's an approach I appreciated. I'm not sure that many questions can be resolved when writing about consciousness, but the author keeps readers interested by raising more questions.

Where the book truly shines is in its more reflective moments. Pollan’s ability to connect abstract ideas about consciousness to everyday human experience, what it means to feel, perceive, and exist, gives the book an emotional resonance that elevates it beyond a purely academic survey. His writing reminds you that this isn’t just a scientific puzzle; it’s the very texture of being alive.

Overall, A World Appears is a thought-provoking and engaging read that invites curiosity rather than closure, and Pollan's curiosity is almost always contagious. He may not provide definitive answers, but succeeds in making the mystery of consciousness feel richer, stranger, and more worth contemplating. A strong four-star read for anyone interested in the intersection of science, philosophy, and what it means to be human. This was four stars for me.

My apologies for my overly wordy book reviews. I'm going to have to work on writing shorter ones. What are you making and reading this final Wednesday in April?