’ Life is a peephole, a single tiny entry onto a vastness.’
We have all heard the phrase ‘you can’t judge a book by it’s cover.’ While this is a good l...more’ Life is a peephole, a single tiny entry onto a vastness.’
We have all heard the phrase ‘you can’t judge a book by it’s cover.’ While this is a good life lesson, especially when taken as a metaphor that extends beyond books and into people, places, foods, etc., sometimes the cover of a novel is very telling of what lies within. Yann Martel’s Life of Pi wears it’s heart on it’s sleeve. A quick glance at the cover shows the overzealous stamp of ‘Winner of the Man Booker Prize’, INTERNATIONAL BESTSELLER, the indication that, yes, this is ‘A Novel’, and an image that both depicts the major plot point of the novel, thus spoiling the surprise of who Richard Parker really is. All this praise lauded upon the cover is instantly telling that this is a novel that has reached a wide audience, and is most likely aimed towards wide critical acclaim. That is all fine, and bravo to Mr. Martel for being able to leave his mark on the bestseller list, something I can only imagine in my wildest of wildest dreams, but sometimes when reaching for a large audience you have to elbow out a small percentage of readers. I am that small percentage that was elbowed out by Martel’s attempt to make an accessible novel that will touch the reader on a spiritual level. This is a difficult novel to review as, firstly, I did enjoy reading the book. I gave in to reading this book that I have been purposely avoiding after reading the excellent review from mi Hermana. I had a lot of fun discussing this book with her, texting her my shocks and suprises in the plot, and discussing the book in several threads with fellow Goodreaders. As anyone can see with a quick glance at the overall ratings, this book seems to really strike a chord in many readers, yet also brings a large crowd of dissenters. While I did extract a good deal of pleasure from the novel, it just didn’t sit well with me at the same time. In all fairness to the novel, and to my usual reading list, I have to dissect this book with the same views of novels that I would any other. This begs the question as to ‘why do we read?’, and this reason differs from person to person much like each persons meaning of life – a theme explored in Pi. Life of Pi was a pleasurable read that suffered from a heavy-handed serving of morality. While Martel delivers one charming phrase after the next with a graceful flow, he would have greatly benefited from a touch of subtlety.
All to often, Martel would draw conclusions for the reader. A prime example occurs in the first few pages when Pi’s science teacher visits the Zoo (a zoo that he does not hold back from explaining how it serves as a metaphor for humanity), and calls out the name of well-known scientists whose studies pertain to the activities of the animals he is currently viewing. Martel spoils the moment by explaining that Mr. Kumar liked to prove to himself ‘that everything was order’. It felt as if Martel didn’t believe his readers could connect the dot. Even more obscure ideas are spoiled in such a manner. When a rain of flying fish saves Pi and Richard Parker from certain hunger, he thanks Vishnu saying ‘once you saved the world by taking the form of a fish. Now you have saved me by taking the form of a fish’. While I would not have made this connection, it ruins that ‘ah-ha!’ moment for those that do. It is that special moment of understanding an allusion in literature that keeps me reading a wide variety of texts, and it seems insulting to have someone to make connections without giving you an opportunity. Even at the very end, in his shocking twist of an ending (I must profess this novel has an incredible conclusion), the two Chinese men literally draw the connections for you saying something to the effect of ‘oh, this is this and that means that…’. This all seems to be Martel’s way of making sure his message gets heard, and is able to reach everyone. It is a noble goal, and it gets people who do not typically read to like and enjoy a book, so I cannot necessarily knock him for it as that was his goal, but this is all to my chagrin.
‘It's important in life to conclude things properly,’ Pi explains, ‘only then can you let go. Otherwise you are left with words you should have said but never did, and your heart is heavy with remorse’. The question now is, does Martel conclude things properly? I personally loved the conclusion to this book. He successfully pulls the rug out from under the reader and exposes the real message behind the book. Without spoiling anything, this novel makes a good statement on the powers of storytelling with both a fun plot device and well crafted statements such as ‘that's what fiction is about, isn't it, the selective transforming of reality? The twisting of it to bring out its essence?’ Had he left it at that, it would have been wonderful and allowed for mass interpretability and the reader could have easily connected it to spirituality. However, Martel forces the connection to religion down the reader’s throat. The whole beginning section of the novel, which details Pi’s exploration of various religions, seems irrelevant for the majority the novel. Occasionally he will pray or include some stunning statements on the beauty of life and the grace of God/gods, but it seems to have been only there to make sure you were looking for the religious metaphors in the plot and comes across as Martel with a death grip on the readers head, jerking it back and forth shouting ‘look here! Notice that! Remember what we talked about!?’ While much of the focus on spirituality was well done, it was far too heavy-handed and led to a rather narrow interpretation on the ending.
My major concern is that Martel only gave us what he thought the reader would want, making quotes such as ‘ I know what you want. You want a story that won’t surprise you. That will confirm what you already know. That won’t make you see higher or further or differently,’ seem like he wasn’t being as ironic with the ending as he hoped it would be. While the conclusion comes out as ‘bet you didn’t see that coming’, it really doesn’t say anything that hasn’t been said before. The novel is heralded as being an affirmation of faith, and that’s exactly what it is, an affirmation. It isn’t going to challenge your beliefs, although he does an excellent job allowing different religious figures to challenge the differences in belief of one another even if it is the same concepts anyone would learn in a 100 level humanities course; it isn’t going to convert any readers to a life of devotion; it only provides a blanket and a comfort to those that already believe. Which, once again, is not a bad thing, if that is what you are looking for. It reminded me of something a professor once told me in a World Religions course. He described church as something that, and this is his opinion, is a crutch for those who needed it. He compared the obligation to attend to telling a girlfriend you only hang out with them because you feel you have to and are obligated to. While his opinion is a bit harsh and easily offensive, what he was really trying to say is you should believe because you want to, not because you have to. Martel makes it seem like you have to believe in these things, and I see why that makes this book hard to swallow for someone who doesn’t. Once again, in hopes to reassure and reach a large audience, Martel rudely elbows out the remainder. However, I really feel uncomfortable discussing beliefs on the open seas of the internet, and I really hope nothing said here offends you as that is not my intention. Please understand I am only speaking in relevance to my thoughts on a book, not on religion. The insistence of Martel to wrap a cool concept with spirituality is a major reason why it is so difficult to talk about this book. It is hard to separate the two ideas, but I’m doing my best to keep this focused on the literary aspects. I’m getting too self-conscious! The whole point here is that a lot of what Martel says has been said before, better, and with more willingness to evoke a change in the reader.
All that said, there is a lot that I truly enjoyed about this book. If you push all the aforementioned details aside, this was a wild ride. This made me want to visit zoos and hug a tiger. Look how cute this tiger is: Tell me you don’t want to hug that! I really enjoyed the wealth of zoological knowledge Martel bestows upon the reader, and his insistence on seeming ‘realistic’ with his animals. After reading this book, you will know why you should never, ever try to hug a tiger or take a wild animal for granted. He makes an interesting point how we force cute cuddly animal toys on children and make them think they are some domestic pet. While this is used as an excellent point that humans are the villain, which is easily slotted into the religious issues as an explanation that it isn’t religion that causes violence but the people abusing the rhetoric, it does seem ironically opposed to his final statement of how religion glosses over the grimy, difficult to handle details of life and makes it easier to handle. Are cute cuddly animal toys then religion? This novel is a very positive message to the world, and anything promoting peace and harmony can’t be all that bad. I enjoyed statements such as ‘ If there's only one nation in the sky, shouldn't all passports be valid for it?’, which is an important idea considering the violence that takes place around the world. I also enjoyed how the animal story is also chock full of scientific facts and details, which fuses the idea of religion and science together instead of showing them as opposites. Thre were some symbolism, the ones he left untainted by a forced explanation, that really struck me. The tiger itself is open for many views, either as God, Pi, or life itself - something we must face and tame lest it destroy us. However, could it be the killer inside us all, an urge and animalistic force we must keep in check in order to exist in a civilized society? In a way, I felt that the ending could almost be an attack on religion, showing it as nothing more than a pretty way of viewing a world as ugly as our own. I felt that the tarpauline served as a similar symbol. It was a feeling of security, something to stand on, but underneath was the violent truth of a deadly tiger. Perhaps it was our personal sense of security which is actually just thin and flimsy. When Martel doesn't slap us with his meaning, it is quite good.
I was simply not the intended audience for this novel. However, Martel has a positive message that he wanted to reach a wide audience in hopes to spread peace to a world badly in need of it, so I cannot be too harsh on him. He achieved his goals for the novel, but his novel did not reach my goals for literature. Still, this was a fun read and I would recommend it. Just ask yourself, ‘why read?’ and if the cons of this review outweigh the pros, then this novel is not for you. But if you desire something that will entertain, broaden your horizons of spirituality if you don’t know much about various religions, or reaffirm your faith, well look no further. 3.5/5
‘ Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous possessive love that grabs at what it can.’
Here's more tigers. Because you deserve them: (less)
‘Evil grows spontaneously within men. As with maggots that spontaneously appear in rancid meat, so does evil appear in the rotting souls of men. It is...more‘Evil grows spontaneously within men. As with maggots that spontaneously appear in rancid meat, so does evil appear in the rotting souls of men. It is neither created nor destroyed, but it lives like a parasite moving from soul to soul.’
Set sail with Gary Anderson as he navigates the corridors of the human heart across the familiar seas of Voltaire’s masterpiece Candide. Best of All Possible Worlds, the title of which is taken from the mantra of Voltaire’s Pangloss, an unflattering caricature of Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, probes theodicy in the fashion of Voltaire and expands upon the critical scene in the classic novel when tragedy is met just off the shores of Lisbon. Anderson keeps in step with Voltaire the whole way, recreating the phallic humor and religious mockery as he illuminates the life of Jacques the Anabaptist in his own struggle with the problems of evil within ‘this best of all possible worlds.’
While this novel expands up Candide, it is in no means a prerequisite to enjoying Anderson’s undertaking. The novel functions well on it’s own merits and is entirely self contained, which allows both new readers and those familiar with Voltaire to be satisfied on this adventure. And what an adventure it is. The pace never slackens as it sails through primitive uprisings, high seas combat, pseudo-religious buffoonery, cloak-and-dagger betrayal and a wide assortment of shady undertakings. The world is painted as unfriendly and savage with violence and bitter death rearing it’s head at any and all moments. The instantaneous violence that springs up put me in the mindset of those bleak worlds crafted by Cormac McCarthy, for here too we see the that just because you have the power to doesn’t make it right to exercise your might over another’s life. For those versed in the worlds of Voltaire, however, will find a well-crafted homage to his humor and many nods to his stylistic choices.
Flowing through the novel is the omnipresent problem of evil in the world. To exemplify this, Anderson sets out creating an overarching duality to the novel. We have the brothers Jacob and Robrecht, the former having left the turmoil of sea life in order to seek stability on land while the latter whom ‘wherever he went, death was there also’. We have one soul set on stability while another exists simply to rock the boat. It seems it would be hard to find such stability, when attempts at finding peace with God lead Jacob into the folds of a misguided flock with visions of a Holy aars and his way is continuously beset by evil. Evil however, seems to flourish and pave the way to glory for those who are not incinerated by it’s touch. In a sense, evil is seen as the natural course in a supposedly perfect world.
This duality extends beyond the basics of good and evil. Through the frequent footnotes, the reader is often faced with two simultaneous stories and it often is employed to show how the events of the past and present intertwine. The flawed souls of the novel ‘loped lopsidedly into the future, destined to pay for the mistakes of its youth’. The letters and journal entries which are dispersed between each chapter serve a similar purpose as well as give insight into the actions of a character. The intertwining is used as well in the uproarious baptism scene for great effect. As the rites and rituals occur, the text fluctuates between the action at hand and snippets of prayer, showing a dual world of mortal flesh and immortal holiness as the bonds of religious fervor attempt to coil around the Jacob’s fate. The crude humor in the religious scenes create a wonderful juxtaposition of man and God as well – while they preach purity and holiness, man is shown as vile, base, and riddled with sin.
For those with a taste for adventure and bawdy humor, Anderson’s The Best of All Possible Worlds is an excellent choice. The dedication to Voltaire’s style shines through in a work that is highly humorous and satirical in it’s own right. I now have higher hopes for the modern world of novelists.
s.penkevich
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Tell me you don’t want to hug that! I really enjoyed the wealth of zoological knowledge Martel bestows upon the reader, and his insistence on seeming ‘realistic’ with his animals. After reading this book, you will know why you should never, ever try to hug a tiger or take a wild animal for granted. He makes an interesting point how we force cute cuddly animal toys on children and make them think they are some domestic pet. While this is used as an excellent point that humans are the villain, which is easily slotted into the religious issues as an explanation that it isn’t religion that causes violence but the people abusing the rhetoric, it does seem ironically opposed to his final statement of how religion glosses over the grimy, difficult to handle details of life and makes it easier to handle. Are cute cuddly animal toys then religion? This novel is a very positive message to the world, and anything promoting peace and harmony can’t be all that bad. I enjoyed statements such as ‘ If there's only one nation in the sky, shouldn't all passports be valid for it?’, which is an important idea considering the violence that takes place around the world. I also enjoyed how the animal story is also chock full of scientific facts and details, which fuses the idea of religion and science together instead of showing them as opposites. Thre were some symbolism, the ones he left untainted by a forced explanation, that really struck me. The tiger itself is open for many views, either as God, Pi, or life itself - something we must face and tame lest it destroy us. However, could it be the killer inside us all, an urge and animalistic force we must keep in check in order to exist in a civilized society? In a way, I felt that the ending could almost be an attack on religion, showing it as nothing more than a pretty way of viewing a world as ugly as our own. I felt that the tarpauline served as a similar symbol. It was a feeling of security, something to stand on, but underneath was the violent truth of a deadly tiger. Perhaps it was our personal sense of security which is actually just thin and flimsy. When Martel doesn't slap us with his meaning, it is quite good.
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