The Narcisstic Hypocrite

I'm in love with Tecumseh Sparrow Spivet.

The irony/hypocrisy of this post is that it follows one I recently wrote about it not being necessary to love the main character of the book you reading.

And it gets worse- I like him because he is so much like me. So, basically, I'm a narcissistic hypocrite. Wow, look at everyone jumping at the chance to be friends with me.

I'm about 55 pages into The Selected Works of TS Spivet by Reif Larsen and I'm infatuated with the main character, twelve-year-old TS. He's a child genius (see, I told you he was like me) who creates amazingly detailed, accurate drawings of various scientific subjects ranging from insects to facial expressions, as well as maps. His mentor submits his work to The Smithsonian under the guise that he is an adult, leading to problems when they honor him with a prestigious award. As of now, where I'm currently at, TS declines, but I have a feeling this changes.

I think the reason why I feel such a connection with this character is because he's got a lot of strange quirks that other people don't necessarily understand. He draws his cartography tools on the walls so he knows where they go after he uses them. He calculates routes from the porch to the phone in his head in order to determine what is fastest and what is the best exercise. He fantasizes about the secret world located in the long grass on his farm. He's creating a map of a novel. He can talk about random things (two animals fighting in four feet of water) for hours.

I usually feel the same feelings towards characters as I do towards people in real life- skepticism and caution. I quietly scope out the scene, waiting awhile to take the risk to connect, and then decide if it's worth the time and energy. But, as in reality, there are definitely exceptions- TS Spivet is definitely one of these. We'll see how the rest of the novel goes.