Spock, Willy Wonka, and Captain Ahab - My three fictional analogues

Last week, a fun little challenge popped up on Facebook: Describe yourself in three fictional characters. I am usually averse to such Facebook trends, but this one intrigued me. We are a pop-culture-saturated age, and we find some sort of weird, profound joy from identifying with fictional characters created by other non-fictional beings. Thus, I enjoyed seeing what friends came up with about themselves, and began to wonder what three characters best fit me. Unable to think of any good fits, I jokingly suggested three fictional characters I had actually (sort of) portrayed: Han Solo, The Joker, and Ed from the play Degas C'est Moi:

Disney/Lucasfilm never called me about this one. They'll regret it

Still waiting for Warner Bros. in case Jared Leto quits

At least I'll always have Degas C'est Moi

But while I do identify with certain aspects of each of these roles--Han's sarcasm and irony, Ed's penchant for bombast and observation, the Joker's...hair--I don't really think any of them really describes me. Nor do some of the other choices I considered when trying to create my trio, including:

-Patrick Bateman from American Psycho

I'm actually not a huge fan of Huey Lewis and the News, for one. Also not a serial killer. Or wealthy. 

 -Milo Thatch from Atlantis: The Lost Empire

While I am passionate about Atlantis, I'm not quite as nerdy or bumbling as Milo.

-HAL 9000 from 2001: A Space Odyssey

My relationship to humanity may be tenuous, but I'm not as cold as HAL.

-Dr. Manhattan from Watchmen

Again, my relationship to humanity may be tenuous, but I'm still human. 

-Jack from Samurai Jack 

If this I were a list of three fictional characters I wish I could be, rather than who describe me, Jack would be at the top (sorry, Jared). As it is, however, I haven't earned being Jack. But someday, perhaps...

In the end, however, after much deliberation, I settled on three fictional characters who have probably never been thought of together before, and may well never again be though of together after this blogpost: Spock (as portrayed by Leonard Nimoy), Willy Wonka (as portrayed by the late, great Gene Wilder), and, last but certainly not least, Captain Ahab, as written by Herman Melville in Moby-Dick. Some explanation is in order to explain these three rather disparate choices.

1) Spock (as portrayed by Leonard Nimoy)

This choice is highly logical.

Spock was the most palatable expression of the emotional distance, reliance on reason, and sometimes-tenuous connection to humanity that inclined me toward the choices of Patrick Bateman, HAL 9000, and Dr. Manhattan above. Half-Vulcan, Spock's primary mode of existence in Star Trek is to value reason above all else. And yet Spock is also half-human, meaning that, unlike many Vulcans, he has actual emotions to deal with. In Spock's original incarnation, he rarely, if ever, lost control of his emotions absent the intervention of some personality-alternating external force (like mating). Most of the rest of the original series treated Spock's character as a source of deadpan humor, as a means of profound meditation on what it means to be human (even though Spock technically wasn't), and, in his finest hour, as a source of selfless nobility. I am nowhere near Spock in my detachment from emotion, nor my ability to rely solely on reason. But I do relate to Spock in often (perhaps too frequently) valuing logic above sentiment, in sometimes failing to relate to my fellow human beings, and in regarding with skepticism what others irrationally assume or take for granted. Thus, Spock is my first choice.

2) Willy Wonka (as portrayed by the late, great Gene Wilder)

Please, tell me more about how you think you're really worthy of this choice.

Peter Kistler, a friend of mine (and guest writer for this blog), once chose Jafar, the villain from Aladdin, as the Disney character I most resembled. When I was talking to Peter earlier this week, I realized that the combination of quiet introspection and unpredictable theatricality that made him choose Jafar as my Disney analogue also applied to Gene Wilder's Willy Wonka from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. Wilder's Wonka is at different times calm, quiet, sarcastic, brilliant, passive-aggressive, literary, erudite, terrifying, wrathful, bombastic, warm, loving, and affectionate--sometimes in the same scene. And he is all of these things behind an often-inscrutable exterior, one hiding a great mass of seemingly contradictory emotions and personalities that leap out every once in a while. I wouldn't call myself anywhere near this complicated, but I do manifest at least some of the vastly distinct characteristics of Wilder's Wonka, often within minutes of each other. And I think I can seem, while not as mysterious as Wonka, at the very least somewhat difficult to understand. Finally, I think I do have a penchant for making obscure allusions, as Wonka often does. All of this, I think, contributes to the Wonka in me.

3) Captain Ahab

I don't have many white whales in my life, but when I do, you can be darn sure I'll chase them.

In Chapter 115 of Herman Melville's Moby-Dick, Captain Ahab, commander of the Pequod and initiator of its doomed voyage of vengeance, breaks the long solitude of its sea-bound search via an encounter with another ship. At this point, the crew of the Pequod has seen nothing but one another, their ship, and the open ocean for weeks. You might think that Ahab would be interested in exchanging pleasantries with the other ship's captain, or perhaps socializing in an even more relaxing fashion. But no. That is not Captain Ahab. All that Ahab wants to know from the other ship's crew is whether they have seen Moby-Dick, the great white whale who bit off Ahab's leg years before, leaving him in a constant state of physical and emotional turmoil. When he learns they have not, and are in fact heading home, he cares no longer for the conversation, nor the crew, and continues the Pequod on its chase. There is a similar scene in Chapter 59 of the novel. A crew member thinks he has sighted the whale Ahab seeks, and so Ahab quickly commandeers a smaller boat out to sea to meet his foe. When he finds that the crewman 'only' sighted a giant squid - "The great live squid, which, they say, few whale-ships ever beheld, and returned to their ports to tell of it" - this is how Ahab reacts:

But Ahab said nothing; turning his boat, he sailed back to the vessel; the rest as silently following.

People often find it strange when I tell them this, but I find this single-minded, megalomaniacal behavior incredibly relateable (although, unlike Ahab, I would be much more interested in a giant squid than a white whale). The more positive spin on all of this, if you're looking for one, is that I am determined, focused, persistent, and passionate about the things that matter to me. But the more Ahabian way of putting it is this: Life itself compels me to care about many things that I otherwise might disregard. Yet there remain a great deal of concerns, topics, and other such things in which I simply have no interest. And there are a few things to which I am passionately, almost obsessively dedicated. I am, moreover, not hesitant - and, indeed, rather callous about - delineating which is which, often to a degree that turns off even those who know me best. I cannot stand small talk, for example, and often steer a conversation directly into an area in which I am comfortable - like aliens - rather than waste precious minutes dawdling about pointless trivialities. This relentless focus on some things at the expense of all others appears to the world as a level of uninterest that can seem quite off-putting.

Due to a poor sense of moderation, moreover, my white whales tend to consume my very being when I do find them, as anyone who has seen me in the throes of some passion project can attest. This often leads me to extremes in physical or mental behavior in service of my momentary obsession. I can, furthermore, - and often do - keep ideas, goals, and (more than I'd like to admit) grudges locked away in my head for years before finally getting the chance to act on them. I'm not saying I'm Captain Ahab, but...well, maybe I'm Captain Ahab.

So, there you have it: I have described myself in three fictional characters: Spock (as portrayed by Leonard Nimoy), Willy Wonka (as portrayed by Gene Wilder), and Captain Ahab (as written by Herman Melville). What do you think of my choices? Do they make sense? Do they make too much sense? Do you have any other suggestions?

Finally, perhaps most pertinent: Are you now frightened to know me?