Imagine if Sheldon Cooper wrote a memoir about falling in love, and you’ll have something like The Rosie Project. Don Tillman is a genetics professor with a rigorously scientific approach to life, who has standardized even his meals to simplify shopping. He has difficulties navigating social situations, however, and reading people’s emotions. Despite this, he’s developed a few close friendships, and one casual remark from an aging friend — the observation that he would make a great husband — launches him on a new goal, The Wife Project. It will change his life, though not in the way he expects. Being a man of science, he proceeds in a logical matter — by establishing parameters, creating a questionnaire that will determine if a woman falls outside of those parameters (if she smokes, for instance, or can’t perform basic arithmetic), and then distribute said questionnaires to interested parties. Then a woman appears in his office who he mistakingly believes is an applicant, and life begins taking him in unexpected directions. The Wife Project is soon sidelined by another one altogether, a hunt inspired by his new friend Rosie that will take the pair of them across the world. The Rosie Project is a sweet but fun novel, in which there’s a steady stream of accidental humor caused by Don’s unusual take on situations, and complications created by his often-unexpected responses. The novel is largely one of personal growth, as his friendship with Rosie and the joint project they’re working on force him out of his very comfortable routines and structure — and Don’s perspectives on others as he grows, coupled with his readiness to share his pointed opinions, also forces growth and change from the other characters. The novel illustrates how we can deprive ourselves by not being open to new experiences, or by boxing ourselves in with labels and judgment, and Rosie herself is unpredictable enough that the reader has almost as much fun getting to know her as Don does. What I most appreciated, though, was that this isn’t some Grease-esque story in which Don transforms himself to be loved: while he does change a bit (getting out of ruts and such), he finds joy in using his quirks and pecuilar strengths to connect meaningfully to others. Rather tempted to continue the trilogy, but I’ve a serious NF deficit to remedy first.

Coming up: SPACE!

Highlights:

“So, did you have fun?” asked Gene. I informed him that his question was irrelevant: my goal was to find a partner and Rosie was patently unsuitable. Gene had caused me to waste an evening. “But did you have fun?” he repeated.

Hurtling back to town, in a red Porsche driven by a beautiful woman, with the song playing, I had the sense of standing on the brink of another world. I recognized the feeling, which, if anything, became stronger as the rain started falling and the convertible roof malfunctioned so we were unable to raise it. It was the same feeling that I had experienced looking over the city after the Balcony Meal, and again after Rosie had written down her phone number. Another world, another life, proximate but inaccessible.

“Overview, overview. Sunday to Wednesday. One sentence per day. Leave out eating, sleeping, and travel.” That made it easy.
“Sunday, Museum of Natural History; Monday, Museum of Natural History; Tuesday, Museum of Natural History; Wednesday—”
“Stop, wait! Don’t tell me Wednesday. Keep it as a surprise.”

By the time Rosie came back, I had performed a brain reboot, an exercise requiring a considerable effort of will. But I was now configured for adaptability.

Rosie put her arms around me and kissed me. I think it is likely that my brain is wired in a nonstandard configuration, but my ancestors would not have succeeded in breeding without understanding and responding to basic sexual signals. That aptitude was hardwired in. I kissed Rosie back. She responded.

Walking back to the hotel, I realized that I had behaved in stereotypical male fashion, drinking beer in a bar, watching television, and talking about sports. It is generally known that women have a negative attitude to such behavior. I asked Rosie if I had offended her. “Not at all. I had fun watching you being a guy—fitting in.” I told her that this was a highly unusual response from a feminist but that it would make her a very attractive partner to conventional men.
“If I was interested in conventional men.”

I was relieved. The basic male-male tough advice protocol had been effective. It had not been necessary to slug him.