Customer Reviews

The Selected Works of T. S. Spivet

5 star:		(31)
4 star:		(24)
3 star:		(24)
2 star:		(4)
1 star:		(2)

 

 

This book has some really cool things that I enjoy very much. It is becoming more common to try different ways to combine text and imagery in fiction, most notably in the form of the graphic novel. This book takes a different route, relying primarily on text to tell the story, with diagrams, call-outs and sidebars in the margins to act as subtexts and footnotes to the main storyline. For me, it works, but then, like the young protagonist, I have always loved maps and diagrams, aka Visual Explanations: Images and Quantities, Evidence and Narrative. Of course, the map is not the territory, but it certainly engages one on many levels. Just for the format and the daring of the author, I would give it five stars on that alone. I had to deduct one star for a couple of problems, that I hope the author will work on for his next book; I do hope he will work with this form again as it has much potential.

Like other reviewers, I found the plotline is rather convoluted with some false leads that didn't seem entirely useful. The young protagonist is a 12-year old genius, it is true, but intellect, emotional maturity, and experience are not the same things, and I found too much of the eastern-educated author's voice coming through the thinking with emotional stages a 12-year old would not have yet reached. That has been played over and over in the stories of young adolescents who have the genius to attend college and get higher grades than their peers...but who fail miserably at the emotional/social aspects.

I have lived in Helena, Montana, all my life (I'm pushing 50) and there are unfortunately some things that show the eastern author should have worked with more closely with someone who knows Montana a little better. Just a couple of things as an example of things he should have paid more attention to. Railroad rails are not "wrought iron," they are steel. The "slats" are called ties. The ties are not preserved with shellac, but are soaked in creosote. We Montanans may pronounced it "crick" but we don't spell it that way, we spell it "creek" like everyone else. We do tend to drop the "g" off words like "huntin' " and "fishin' "...but I never heard or read such a usage as the author's "sett'ng"... we would say sittin' not sett'ng...if you are going to ape regional dialect, you gotta get it right, or you show your own ignorance, not that of the "charming locals". And just what the heck is a "clink" (p. 13) or "chinks" (p. 15)? Does he mean to say "spurs"? I never heard any of my fellow Montanans refer to spurs as clinks or chinks. A clink is a jail, and a chink is a racist word for a person of Chinese descent. So that needs some work. Some parts were pretty cool though; I did like his Gary Cooper-esque father..he rang true. I know fellers like that.

So I would congratulate the author on an innovative and enjoyable book, and especially his imaginative integration of the visual with the textual. I would read more of his work. He just has to get the details right in the next book, and I look forward to readin' it when he does!

The author did a good job of presenting the mind of a 12 year-old prodigy. All the little asides and drawings in the margin that went along with the story were fantastic.

I was thoroughly enjoying the story until T.S. opens his mother's notebook and then we spent way too many pages on a whole separate story of his grandmother. Sure it gives background to his talents and personality, but it was way overboard in terms of size.

I got re-interested again and really liked the majority of the last half of the book - only to ultimately be let down again. There's a whole subplot revolving around a secret society, and the author basically took it nowhere. It seems way too elaborate for being just an excuse for his mother's actions. I wanted to read more about these people, what it is they do, and how T.S. will be a part of that, but we never more than scratch the surface of it, and ultimately, the book suddenly stops when you feel there is much more story to be told. The denouement, if it can be considered to exist at all, is a mere page long.

I think this good have been a much better book. It sadly ranks as merely okay in its present form, unless a sequel turns up that can take things to a logical end.

Tecumseh Sparrow Spivet is a twelve-year-old genius living on a farm in the midwest. His mother, Dr. Clair, is a scientist searching for a rare beetle. His father is a farmer and cowboy. T.S. likes to think of himself as a mapmaker. He doesn't just draw maps of land, though, he draws maps of everything from facial expressions to gunshots. One day, he takes a phone call from the Smithsonian Institute and discovers that he has been selected for the prestigious Baird award, for which his friend Dr. Yorn has nominated him. That phone call prompts T.S. to sneak on trains in his quest to get to Washington, D.C., to give a speech and accept his award. Along the way, he meets a number of strange characters and makes a series of important realizations about his life, his age, and most importantly, his family.

I'm not sure there are words to describe how I felt about this book. I haven't seen many blog reviews around and I'm really wondering why. This book is phenomenal. T.S. is a stunning character. He is clearly a genius but clearly a child at the same time; he makes amazing conclusions but then his child-logic can't always keep up with his scientific mind. I found this fascinating. I'm no genius, but I truly felt that with T.S. I was having a peek into the mind of someone like Stephen Hawking, although much more understandable.

This book isn't for people who dislike footnotes, though. Me, I love footnotes, and this book is full of them, although usually on the sides, along with T.S.'s maps and observations. In my opinion, these little asides added immeasurably to the main story even if they required me to read a little bit slower. They flesh out this little boy's world and show us how he works, who he is friends with, and sometimes illuminate larger questions in the novel; for example, his facial diagrams allow us to see the way his father appears when he looks at T.S. in a way that words could not really match. The maps allows us to slowly feel the depths of pain which T.S. has been experiencing since his brother, Layton, killed himself; so much is revealed in that sibling relationship not through words, but through the implied sharing and affection in certain maps and footnotes. My favorite of all of the asides, though, was probably the three-prong diagram of why McDonald's appeals to adolescent boys.

I also really, really loved the backstory behind T.S.'s family which is covered towards the middle of the book in sections which were from a notebook T.S. stole from his mother. Having had no inkling of his mother's writing talent, T.S. is startled to discover that she has been writing a novel of the life of one of his ancestors. I loved this story-within-a-story, both because it felt like historical fiction, my favorite genre, and because it revealed so much to T.S. about his mother, who has many more secrets than she lets on. I can't say that it moved the plot forward, but I never minded at all.

In the end, this was a wonderful, quirky, endearing story about a boy who figures out what his family means to him and, in the meantime, starts to grow up on his journey east. It might not be for everyone, considering the lengthy footnotes and digressions from the main plot, but I loved every minute, especially after T.S. sets off. I was in the mood for an ambitious story and I certainly got one. I can't recommend this book highly enough.

No doubt "The Selected Works of TS Spivet" is a strong candidate for the summer's "IT" book. All of the elements are there. A 12-year old genius misfit as our first person narrator. A dead brother. A gentle loving sister. A story within a story. A journey. Revealed family secrets. Self discovery. The novel also includes a novel addition; as has been much discussed, Larsen's debut includes a web of lovely illustrations flanking near every page in the margin. Nor are these illustrations purposeless, as they are the work of our narrator, whose genius lies in his ability to "map" anything, from the anatomy of a beetle to his father's method of sipping whiskey.

Yet while all the elements are here, and Mr. Larsen clearly has a gift for prose, I am not sure that the pieces hung together for me as a reader. Our narrator, T.S. (Tecumseh Sparrow) Spivet at times speaks in the voice of an emotional adept with keen understanding of human nature and frailties. At other times he reads like an autistic idiot savant. There seems little rhyme or reason to these bursts of human understanding, other than the author's desire to delve deeper into the relationships of his characters while remaining in the first person.

Doubtless these sorts of issues are common for young writers, wishing to create material in the first person, but having trouble remaining within its confines. Yet even for those who are able to hang on for the ride - and to be honest, I was certainly able to for the first part of the book, compelled by the writing and my interest in the narrator - Larsen seems strangely committed to do his damndest to throw the reader as though they were trying to tame a wild horse. "The Selected Works of TS Spivet" takes so many twists and turns, often with no apparent purpose other than a flight of fancy, that one imagines it would be difficult to diagram. Perhaps this is some type of metaphor for the narrator TS Spivet's gift for mapping, but if so it was way over my head.

As for the twists and turns, I am loath to go into them for fear of ruining the readers experience. However, the novel begins with TS answering the telephone in Montana to learn that he has won the Baird Award for the Smithsonian, which is ignorant of his tender years. Deciding to escape his family and go to collect his prize, he takes on the hobo life and rides the rails to DC. I won't reveal what happens then, but it involves - in no particular order - murder, secret societies, holes in the space time continuum, a host of family secrets conveniently revealed in a notebook that TS mistakenly packs, and more. At first, I thought that this would somehow work out to be a product of his genius imagination, but no its all real. Some authors can pull off such serendipitous works (the excellent debut, "Fraction of the Whole," is one example), but I had a hard time figuring out how all these complex threads fit together as anything more than... well... a large pile of thread.

Larsen's effort here is clearly tremendous. And I don't wish to disparage his obvious gifts. Perhaps others will see in this novel something I am missing, but I for one, didn't get it.

This is a big book: extra wide, to make room for an assortment of notes and illustrations on the side, and big in scope, rambling and bouncing along from Montana to Washington, D.C.

And it's big in possibilities. Books are so often self-contained little worlds, but this story hints at so much more that is never even mentioned. It offers a generally expansive feeling that off the edges of the pages, there are people living their lives who, even though they have nothing to do with this particular story, are still connected to a larger story, of which this is only a part. I had the feeling that if I fell into this book and couldn't get back out, I would still be able to create a full life for myself, because there's a wide world in there.

T.S. Spivet, an obsessive and nerdy 12-year-old who maps everything in his life and is too mature, in the way of really smart kids, somehow manages to flatly and critically describe his surroundings and his family members, even while, almost as if he is unaware of it, he conveys a striking amount of compassion and love for his family. It's that subtle emotion - that humanity - that gives this book its charm and keeps it readable, even as T.S. heads out on an adventure that left me baffled by its surreality as often as it left me wanting to jump on a train carrying Winnebagos (although I think I would have had more food with me, since I take a granola bar with me to the grocery store, just in case I need it) and go on my own adventure.

This is not a book that can be easily summed up or described. It is far from perfect. It is both enchanting and disconcerting. It isn't tidy. It is often vague. The supporting characters, for all that they are thrown together in unique ways and are clearly supposed to be offbeat, often come across as so eccentric that they come full circle to stereotypical. And I was unsatisfied with the ending, which arrived abruptly and jarringly, and left too many questions unanswered.

But the book is filled with a spirit of discovery that makes even the strangest, the saddest, the most unsettling and the most inexplicable events that happen as T.S. makes his way through his story seem somehow magical. Add to that the illustrations - intriguing maps and diagrams and charts and little asides that add a final dimension of wonder - and this book, for all its flaws and strengths and humanness, is well worth the time.

The Selected Works of T.S. Privet is getting a lot of buzz, especially for its highly inventive use of illustration and its precocious eponymous character. And there are some strong moments in the novel, but I'm afraid that I'll have to be one of the naysayers on this one.
T.S. is a 12-yr-old prodigy, at many things but especially mapmaking. He lives in Montana with his laconic rancher father, his obsessed entomologist mother, his 16-yr-old sister (who is, well, 16), and, until his death, his brother Layton. Known only to his friend/mentor, a local professor, T.S. has been illustrating for various science magazines and journals (under the deception that he was a professor himself) and the book begins with a phone call informing T.S. that he has won the Baird Award at the Smithsonian, which will be presented to him in a ceremony (at which he'll give a speech) in a few days. Still keeping it a secret, T.S. hops a train and "hobos" it across country.
What makes this a book of "special interest" isn't so much the story, inventive as it is, but the presentation, as the entire book is illustrated in the margins with examples of T.S.'s compulsive diagramming: maps of his bedroom, his house, his rail trip, and more metaphorical or abstract maps as well--maps of the kinds of boredom, for instance.
So one has to judge the book on two levels really--one is the usual story itself, and one is how the story works in its presentation to the reader. Unfortunately, both fail, though story more so than presentation.
The illustrations actually mostly succeed in and of themselves--individually, they offer at times a bit of humor, a charm, a poignancy, a darkness. And as we learn more about his brother's death, we can make the connection that though T.S.'s mapmaking had begun before that event, it's all the more important afterward as he seeks to make order out of such a world. The problem though is that there are simply too many illustrations; the author isn't selective enough. At times they seem unnecessary, at times they seem quirky for the sake of quirky, at times they bog the reader down. When you find yourself actively asking yourself multiple times if you want to bother actually looking at the illustrations, they've lost their purpose in the book. By the end, I had to force myself to view each one. Contrast this, for instance, with the footnotes in Jonathan Strange or in some of David Foster Wallace's less self-indulgent or self-ironic works where such items are integral to the impact. Taking out a third or more of the diagrams would have lessened the book's "difference" and some of its quirkiness, but the illustrations would have had much greater effect.
The story, unfortunately, fails even more. One problem is it is overly precious, beginning the character, even with the name. "Tecumseh" by itself would have been fine, as would "sparrow" (his middle name) by itself, but do we really need both? The father and mother each have their own preciousness, as well. Even worse is that while one can accept a mapmaking prodigy of a 12-yr-old, at no point could I ever believe the emotional or social observations were made by a 12-yr-old. As sharp as some of the insights were, I could never buy them from T.S. This overly precocious narrator youth seems to have become far too prevalent lately, almost as if authors are looking to have their cake and eat it too--all the charm and quirkiness and freshness of a kid's viewpoint, plus all the deep meaning and insight of an adult's fully lived emotional life. It always strikes me as false and even a bit lazy.
That said, as much as it grated, it was tolerable for the first third of the book as T.S. and his family are introduced and he begins his trip on the rails. The early contrived portions were also a bit irritating but bearable in this section: the convenient Winnebago on the platform car he hops into, the helpful hobo, etc. So I was with the author, albeit with reservations, for the first third.
And then we start to delve into the story of one of T.S.'s ancestors, an early female scientist (first graduating class of Vassar). We get the story via a notebook T.S. had (conveniently) taken from home on a whim and here we see the author's gifts for simple, straight narrative and characterization. To be honest, while many will probably complain this broke the main storyline and went on too long, this was my favorite section. Here we again have a smart youth, someone doing the unexpected, but it was all so much more believable in character and tone and voice and style. And the connections to T.S. were deftly handled as was what the story said about T.S.'s mother it was her notebook). I was sorry to see this end.
Though I wouldn't know just how sorry for a little while. Since there are so many twists and turns and odd points to the plot in the last quarter or so, I won't go into detail. But I have to say the author utterly lost me. Not in terms of being confused, just in terms of caring. The book just started to self-destruct. I kept waiting for it to come back on track, but it never did. I kept wondering why, why we go there? Along with the ending of The Domino Men, I have to rank this as one of the worst and more befuddling (in terms of why the author would choose this course) endings I've read in years.
Are there reasons to like the book? If you can get over the fact that the insights are coming from an alleged 12-yr-old, then T.S. has many good lines and sharp observations about people. And as mentioned, the illustrations do a good job of enhancing the story until they start to overwhelm and tax the reader and blur into themselves. When T.S. lapses into actual 12-yr-old thinking, he has a winning voice. And certainly the strongest aspect of the book is the slow drip drip of Layton's death and its impact. Unfortunately, it gets buried under too much, especially at the end.
It's especially for that end (a lengthy ending--as mentioned nearly the whole last quarter of the book), but also for the overly-precious nature of the book and main character, that I can't recommend T.S. despite a decent start and a strong middle passage, despite the above-mentioned insights, poignancy, and inventive/effective drawings. It's too bad because one can see how this could have been truly a great book, one of those you eagerly press on a friend, but seemingly we'll have to wait for Larsen's second novel (and a stronger editor) for him to meet his clear potential.

The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet is one of the most interesting and unusual books of 2009 - and certainly the most well-designed.

Tecumseh Sparrow Spivet is the cartographically-obsessed child of a cowboy and an entomologist. Growing up in rural Montana, he fills his hours (and his notebooks) by mapping everything he can find - from shucking corn to the Continental Divide. Fortunately for the reader, the book is littered with maps, doodles and footnotes. Although many books try to make the margins critical to the story's appreciation, generally it winds up being a distraction. In this case, the beautiful notes and maps are stunning, well-integrated and a joy to behold.

As a cartographer, Spivet is an undeniable success - so much so that the Smithsonian want him to represent them for a year (not realizing his true age...). Unfortunately, when it comes to the intangible and the unmappable, Spivet has a much harder time. He's still in shock from the traumatic death of his older brother, he can't talk to either of his (strange) parents, and his "conventional" older sister doesn't have time for him. Against all odds, Spivet decides to take the Smithsonian appointment - and with the clatter of pens, he hits the road...

Although Spivet crosses the entire country, the real journey is inside his own head. Trapped in a railroad car for days, he has nothing to do but reflect, draw, and read his mother's journal. By the time he gets to Washington, he's in a very strange place (pun intended, I suppose)...

Oddly, the book's one flaw is an occasional and inelegant demand for action. While Spivet is a wonderful protagonist, and his family are some of the most interesting characters I've ever read, the random bursts of high-octane activity (especially once Spivet arrives in Washington ) seem out of place. Spivet wanders into secret societies, anarchist plots and all sorts of strange cloak-and-dagger affairs. If the goal is to prove that the rest of the world is just as odd as Spivet, it succeeds. However, none of this is as interesting as a quiet five minutes with Spivet, his maps, and his thoughts. With a character this brilliant, I want more of him - his bizarre & lovable behaviour. Slightly-cinematic plot twists and turns are less interesting, and only divert the spotlight from where it belongs.

All in all, an absolute must-read. And at the risk of sounding like a collector/snob, I'd suggest getting the biggest, loveliest edition you can find - the design of this book is terrific. And the release is perfect for the holiday season - this is a warm, unusual, beautiful gift of a book....

Reif Larsen's debut novel about twelve year old T.S. (Tecumseh Sparrow) Spivet's coming of age adventures. Born into an eccentric mixture of science methodology and western philosophy, his father is a bronc busting ranching man and his mother is a Entomologist researching beetles. Life for this brilliant little cartographer has been a perfect balance of mapping, categorizing and wonderment. Into this family a tragedy is introduce as Layton, his brother, is killed in an accident. This already strangely dysfunctional family is thrown into the grief cycle as each tries to cope with the loss. Through a secret submission to the Smithsonian by his mentor Dr. Yorn, TS wins the coveted Baird Award and this sets him off on a road to personal discover as he travels, by train and eighteen wheeler, to Washington DC to claim his prize.

This is a very appealing book with lots of interesting messages and drawings written in the margins. The story is a fascinating adventure seen through the eyes of a young scientist. This is the books strongest point and keeps the story alive. Unfortunately as much as I wanted to like this book there are too many weak areas. When he brings in the journal of his ancestors the book just flounders into the doldrums of dullness (like watching someone's home movies). There are a lot of interesting little sidebar vignettes that add to the story and make for nice little side trips. These are nice but, because of the frequency, had a tendency to overkill the story. Much like following a goat trail, this story meandered around and around and then finally gets to its' point. Unfortunately by the time it gets there my interest had waned. As much as I wanted to, I couldn't move beyond a mediocre rating. I really wished more from this book but unfortunately there wasn't much beyond the pretty cover and interesting arrowed margin notes. Although written about a 12 year old this book is really written for adults. Larsen has talent and I would expect much better work from him in the future. Not a bad story of personal discovery just not a great one.

The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet is a joy to read. The novel's layout is unlike anything I have ever seen, with unconventional footnotes decorating the margins and telling stories of their own, the novel is truly unique. The novel is told through the eyes of an adolescent genius who obsesses over cartography. Yet, Spivet acknowledges in the novel "I would be the first to admit that I was still a child in more than a few facets" (32).

The novel is most appropriate to use in a classroom setting if it was introduced to an advanced placement English class. The novel is written through the perspective of a young adult but in no way reflects a young adult novel. It is also quite lengthy (374 pages) and the notations found in the margins require close reading. However, the novel does cover some practical themes for today's youth. It reflects parent/child/sibling relationships, a mature mind trapped in a young boy's body, death of a sibling, and much more.
I particularly thought the constant references to mapping made it teachable. Spivet explains, "A novel is a tricky thing to map. Maybe you just need to be an adult in order to perform this high-wire act of believing and not-believing at the same time" (37).

This could be a perfect way to spark class discussion and talk about how to go about navigating through novels and the power they possess that allows one to enter the realm of make believe. Perhaps if I taught this book I would have students become cartographers and start charting some of their own experiences in reading literature, everyday life and how they see the world. Spivet's character can surely be inspirational to young and old readers alike.

Reif Larsen is a promising young writer, as this debut novel tells us. He has created an enormous and entertaining character in 12 year-old boy genius T.S. Spivet. Though I can't see why Stephen King would enthusiastically compare Larsen to postmodern mystery man Thomas Pynchon, Mark Twain and the enjoyable film Little Miss Sunshine make a lot more sense. In many ways, this is a classic adventure tale updated for our multi-media 21st century. The 12 year-old Spivet is called up one day on his Montana ranch by a man from the Smithstonian and told he has won a presitgious award. After much deliberation, Spivet decides to travel east by hopping trains like the old-fashioned hoboes.
A more apt contemporay writer to compare Larsen to would be the recently deceased David Foster Wallace or Junot Diaz, both purveyors of the footnote, the device that can make The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet both satisfying and tedious. In many ways, T.S.'s many footnotes are essential for building the character of a highly-intelligent cartographer who has an observational eye eerily similar to that of a former MFA student from Columbia (Larsen). This is the first flaw of the novel, one that other reviewers have pointed to: Spivet is so advanced that we can't help but find the narrative a tad too "writerly" and transparent. At times Laren's pen shines through Spivet and we are left with someone who acts and thinks like he came off the pages of a writing seminar.
Another issue that I couldn't get past was Spivet's impetus for leaving Montana on his own. We are told that his father is an emotionally-distant rancher who has little in common with him and his mother, through possessing a scientific mind akin to his own, is too wrapped up in her own work and is so removed from him that he refers to her as "Dr. Clair" instead of "mom" (a nice touch by Larsen). But would a 12 year-old boy, no matter how intelligent, really decide to travel across the country by himself, even if he hadn't forged a strong connection with either of his parents? Couldn't he have just told his mother about the award? As a scientist, she would have understood, I think, and been proud of him. Spivet's actual departure from Montana seemed unrealistic and a tad flawed.
What makes this novel stand out (and what probably saves a solid but not especially great narrative) is Larsen's use of charts, diagrams, and other visuals to explore the psyche of Spivet. Some of them are quite funny, serving as ways for Spivet to come to terms with some of the absurdities surrounding him. Others are more heart-breaking, concerning his dead younger brother Layton. As a shining example of how multiple forms of literacy inform a story, I believe The Selected Works of T.S. Spivet would be a very good book to teach in the classroom. It offers something that most traditional novels do not and though some footnotes and diagrams seem gratuitous and gimmicky (do we really need to know how to make a Coyote Toyte?), the overall novel effect will engage readers who have turned their backs on traditional text-only novels.
This is a fine read, a good book, but not exactly the novel of a decade or generation (despite what those breathless critics might say).