Character Analysis
Stereotypical Younger (Annoying) Sibling
If you've got a younger sibling, you'll know what we mean when we say younger siblings can be pretty darn annoying. Seth is no exception to this—if anything, he does a really good job of reinforcing the stereotype.
For example, over breakfast during their first day at their grandparents' place he "was using his butter knife to bounce sun rays" (2.1) into Kendra's eyes. Then later, at the swimming pool, he starts a splash fight with Kendra even though she's not in the water yet. Yup—classic little brother behavior.
Seth is so talented when it comes to bugging folks that he even manages to annoy people other than his big sister, too. When he's exploring the forest and he meets Muriel, he jokes that he's there "selling candy bars for my soccer team" (3.43), causing Muriel to call him "impudent" (3.48)—which we can't really disagree with.
He's persistent though, and we gotta give him credit for that. Seth manages to catch a fairy by cunningly making a trap out of a jar with a mirror inside it, though by doing so he inadvertently turns the fairy into an imp and thus upsets all the fairies.
Mr. Adventurer
At eleven, Seth is insatiably curious and not very good at following the rules. Grandpa Sorenson forbids venturing into the forest, and what does Seth do on his first full day of the visit? Yep, you guessed it, into the woods with him. The way he rationalizes it to Kendra when she reminds him about the dangers of Lyme disease is: "Whatever. Ticks are everywhere. Same with poison ivy. If people let that stop them, nobody would ever go anywhere" (2.92). The kid has a point.
At least he comes prepared, though (or he thinks he does). As he and Kendra carry their things into their grandparents' place, Seth brings in a cereal box, which is his emergency kit:
It was full of odds and ends he thought would come in handy for an adventure—rubber bands, a compass, granola bars, coins, a squirt gun, a magnifying glass, plastic handcuffs, string, a whistle. (1.78)
His preparation doesn't stop there, either. When he first enters the forest, Seth figures out a way to mark his trail so that he doesn't get lost:
Stooping, he collected rocks and built a small pyramid to mark the point where he had intersected the path. Finding his way back would probably be no problem, but better safe than sorry. (3.2)
Luckily he remembers the directions anyway, since his marker gets destroyed at some point when the whole forest turns on him after his encounter with Muriel. It's easy to see, though, that while Seth loves breaking rules, he doesn't do so flippantly—the kid puts some thought into his actions and decisions.
Just because he's a thoughtful rule-breaker, though, doesn't mean Seth's completely impervious to fear—and the forest turning on him after his run-in with Muriel majorly freaks him out, which makes a big impression on Kendra:
Seth had never scared easily. This was the kid who had jumped off the roof under the misguided assumption that a garbage bag would work like a parachute. The kid who had put the head of a live snake in his mouth on a dare. (3.126)
Considering how Seth fearlessly climbs the logs to reach Nero's ledge, we know that this is a kid who's generally okay with risk-taking activities—so when something frightens him, well, it's probably a good idea to pay attention (and maybe get a little freaked out yourself).
When Seth almost buckles under the weight of guilt from causing the Midsummer Eve disaster, we see the softer side of the boy. We also get a glimpse of his softness earlier, when Seth eagerly colors in the paint-by-number artwork that Lena creates for him. In general though, Seth is a pretty tough kid.
Seriously Kid, Are You Incapable of Following Directions?
Seth seems to have a hate-hate relationship with order, authority, and directions. He hates being told what to do, complaining to Kendra, "Adults always underestimate kids […] They get all protective because they think we're babies" (6.69). There's some truth to his gripe.
The thing that Seth doesn't seem to get though, is that there are always consequences whenever you do anything. Like when he accidentally turns the captured fairy into an imp, "He did not feel like talking to anybody […] He was not sure what he had done, but he knew it was somehow his fault, some accidental consequence of catching the fairy" (8.35). He knows this, and feels bad about it—so clearly he has a conscience, but it really takes a drastic event to stimulate it.
Like… being turned into a mutant walrus by vengeful fairies? Check out how grotesque Seth's punishment is:
Most of his hair had fallen out, revealing a lumpy scalp stippled with moles. His face was broader and flatter, with sunken eyes and tusks the size of bananas protruding from his mouth. A misshapen hump swelled high above his shoulders. On his back below the hump, four blowholes puckered for air. His legs had united into a single crude tail. He slapped the ground with his flipper arm. The tentacle writhed like a snake. (8.66)
Ick. You'd think that incident would teach Seth to respect the magic critters around him and follow the rules he's given, but nope—he has to go look out the windows on Midsummer Eve even though Grandpa has forbidden him from getting out of bed. One thing leads to another, and once Seth looks out the window he's tricked into opening it, which is a factor in how things go down that night, leaving Grandpa and Lena kidnapped and Dale turned into a statue.
When all this goes down, Seth is really upset, with "tears streaming down his face" (10.151); he whimpers, "I didn't mean for this to happen" (10.151). The good news is that he's able to transform his guilt over this event into courage to help set things right.
In short, Seth isn't a bad kid, he's just the kind of person who has to learn by experience. Even when that experience is repeatedly disobeying orders and as a result putting everyone in danger.