Magazine

In 2019, a 9-year-old boy named Ronan and his grandfather attended a performance of Mozart’s Masonic Funeral Music, hosted by the Handel and Haydn Society. During the performance, Ronan, who is largely nonverbal, exclaimed “Wow!” Since the concert was streamed on Boston Public Radio station WGBH, the moment went viral, eventually reaching more than 70 million listeners. 

When Todd Boss ’91 heard Ronan’s story rebroadcast on National Public Radio, he immediately recognized it as poetic — and was compelled to write The Boy Who Said Wow, telling Ronan’s story in picture book form.

Boss is an award-winning producer, writer, public artist, and innovator whose lyrics have been performed at the Kennedy Center, Carnegie Hall, and around the world. He has published four poetry collections, and his work has appeared in The New Yorker, Poetry, The London Times, American Poetry Review, Best American Poetry, and on National Public Radio. He also has produced more than 150 short films and designed public art and resources for poets and playwrights. The Boy Who Said Wow is his debut picture book.

He shares with St. Olaf Magazine what inspires him and shapes his work.

What was your first thought when you initially came across the story of Ronan? Did you know right away that you wanted to write about it?
My master’s degree is in poetry, and I’ve spent a lifetime in that art form. This story struck me in the same place in my head, my heart, my spirit that a good poem does. It resonated in that same way. I believe that’s why it went as viral as it did when it was first reported. Whether or not those 70 million people thought of the story as poetic, it reached them in a poetic way, it touched them in a poetic way.

As someone who has previously published poetry, what about this story drew you to capture it in picture book form?
The original story went viral among adults, but because it originated with a child, I knew in my heart of hearts that it belonged in the hands of children. Even though nothing much happens in the story — just one thing, really — I believed that children would resonate with the quiet power of it.

What makes this a good story to tell in a children’s book?
What’s fun about Ronan as a character is that he’s so naturally quiet. We all know quiet people. Ronan is uniquely quiet because some days he hardly says a word. I wanted children to meet Ronan. I wanted children to think about the inner landscape of someone who doesn’t easily share it. There’s something mysterious about that. It makes for a compelling character.

What are you hoping children take away from this story? 
A different publisher wanted me to edit the story intensively, adding commentary about Ronan’s particular disability so that readers would be more educated about autism or non-verbalness along the way. I resisted that. I felt that Ronan’s difference wasn’t the point of the story. In the end, I went with a different publisher, one who understood the magic of recognizing Ronan’s disability without calling it out. While I think it’s important for children to understand disability, I don’t need that to be their takeaway from this particular story. This story is about wonder, and about the human heart’s always-surprising capacity to be inspired by art.

Did you end up meeting Ronan or his grandfather as you were working on this?
When I first learned about the story, I reached out to the orchestra and they put me in touch with the family. I interviewed several members of the family, just to make sure I understood the variables and the nuances of Ronan’s particular form of autism, and the logistics of the trip they made to the concert hall that day. I wanted to make sure I was being sensitive to every detail that mattered to them. I wanted to make sure that they could feel proud of the finished product. This was going to be a legacy book for them. I launched the book with a reading in their hometown in New Hampshire. The entire extended family was present. It was very moving. I feel I’ve gained a family through the writing of this book. They are beautiful people.

How have your own experiences with music influenced the way you wrote this story?
I happen to be a Grammy nominee this year for a libretto I wrote for a choral symphony called Earth Symphony, so I know a little bit about the power of music. I’ve written librettos for 15 years in collaboration with various composers, and when I sit in the audience for those experiences, I’m always touched by the ways in which potent music paired with poetic text can wash over audiences in revelatory ways. I’m approached after those experiences by strangers in tears wanting to shake my hand or share a story or exult in the catharsis the music made possible. It is intensely rewarding.

Were you involved in music at St. Olaf?
Years of piano lessons will give you a handle on music, but I was not involved in the music community at St. Olaf except as an audience member for many, many, many choral and orchestral and theatrical experiences. I loved every minute of it. It’s a deep and essential part of the unique education St. Olaf College offers its students. That kind of intentional exposure to the arts does things to the mind and heart that craft character. We need that in contemporary society.

What was your time at St. Olaf like?
I was no great scholar, instead choosing to spend my time at St. Olaf exploring my gregarious propensity for shenanigans and invention and creativity. St. Olaf turned out to be a great place for me to invent myself.

In addition to this book, what other work has been meaningful to you?
My podcast, There’s a Poem in That, in which I write poems for complete strangers, is easily the most rewarding work I’m doing right now. It’s a kind of poetry therapy clinic without walls, every episode of which ends in transformative tears.

Read more about his work at toddbossoriginals.com.