Life of Pi musings

It's not every day a book leaves me utterly spellbound. Despite the fact that my particular edition of this book read "A Novel, by Yann Martel" I couldn't right away accept the fact that this was a fictional story. What does it say for a work of fiction if the whole time you find yourself wishing it were true? Wouldn't that somehow make the story that much more amazing? I literally stopped mid chapter and checked the front and back covers repeatedly searching for the words "based on a true story". Nowhere to be seen. This must have been part of Mr. Martel's plans all along. I felt like the skeptical Japanese man in the Mexican hospital interviewing Pi demanding that he "tell the truth" this time, "tell what really happened". Was it real? Was it not real? Interestingly enough, it doesn't matter. It's not about real and not real, it's about choosing the better story. What a beautiful way to conclude such an epic tale by letting us choose for ourselves which was the better story. Then to realize that this choice embodies our very faith and perspective of life and God! What a philosophical thrill!

That's the first layer. This was a masterfully weaved allegory. In truth, one of very few allegories I've been able to pallet. I can't bear the in-your-face moralizing of most allegorical works where everything is so spelled out there's no room left for interpretation and revelation, and let's be honest here, confusion. I've been so confused at certain junctures in this book that I have no doubt a second or third reading is necessary before I will feel "full of it". I once heard someone refer to our mortal experience as a lifeboat, saying that all of us were just doing our best to stay afloat and find our way to the shore. How clear this analogy became when reading this book and watching the film interpretation. Suddenly the absurd image of the orangutan, hyena, zebra, tiger and Indian boy all aboard the same lifeboat took on a much more profound significance. Watching each animal slowly get picked off in the natural survival of the fittest was an all too true representation of how life can be. And yet, just when you think you know who the fittest is, Pi pulls out his whistle and circus act and marks his territory. He will not be picked off! It's not until Pi reflects, weeks into his journey, that it was only because of Richard Parker that he was still alive. It was his fear of him that forced him to carry on each day. Don't we all have a Richard Parker in our lives? Don't we all have an amazing amount of insurmountable opposition that threatens to pick us off? Or if not to be picked off then to train the beast. Pi trained his fear. He controlled it, and he tamed it. Well...almost tamed it. Because we all know Richard Parker didn't look back once they reached the jungle. He was still wild, and it broke Pi's heart to admit it.

And that's where I am now, pondering this third and even more opaque layer. Maybe all those animals aren't characters in the real world at all, but maybe just different parts of ourselves. What is it that Pi was really grieving when Richard Parker walked away from him without a single glance back? No acknowledgement of what they had been through together. No parting look of goodbye or thank you. No closure. What part of him does Richard Parker represent? The hyena? The zebra? The orangutan?

There are too many hanging questions in that paragraph above, but it helps me process my thoughts. I love this book. I love that Pi thanks Krishna for introducing him to Christ. I love that he finds himself on a carnivorous island that to me represented false salvation. Everything was great in the day--eat, drink, and be merry--but what happens when the sun goes down? Are we just molar fruit? I love that the idea for this book in and of itself was so original and absurd that it worked. I loved that he danced around the moral instead of over-stating his case. All in all, it's one of my top three favorite books right now, and I couldn't even tell you what the other two books are.

You should give it a read and a ponder.