This is the story of Indian boy Piscine Molitor, who is the only survivor of a shipwreck, along with a Bengal tiger called Richard Parker who he survives in a lifeboat with for 227 days. If you’re not a ‘fantasy’ fan do not be put off by this seemingly unbelievable plot. I would never choose a fantasy novel, it’s never really been my thing, but Martel grasps this theory of believability so firmly that you can’t help but bob along with the novel without once questioning any of the incredibly implausible things that happen to Pi.
The story is famous for being about a boy living with a tiger in the middle of the Pacific Ocean ; if you know one thing about the book, it will be that. So what was pleasantly surprising for me was how much focus there was on Pi’s life in Pondicherry beforehand. I am a sucker for colonial, exotic novels – The God of Small Things by Arundhati Roy is one of my all-time favourite books. I adore the effect the descriptions of the Indian culture and cities have on all senses: you can visualise the vibrant colours, smell the strong spices, hear the chatter and business of everyday goings on. This was not in short supply in Life of Pi, but the other thing that really captured me was the focus on religion and spirituality. If there was one thing that was in almost no way conveyed in the film, it was Pi’s constant belief and love for God. And not just one God - Pi is consumed by all the religions he encounters: Hindu, Christianity, Islam. For me, it is baffling that this is not included in the film more, because it sets the foundation for the entire novel, belief is what Martel constantly returns to, and is what ultimately saves Pi. This combination of the business of Indian life and Pi’s envelopment into completely varying cultures and religions contrasts brilliantly with the isolation and remoteness Pi experiences in the second half of the book.
What’s so different about this book from almost any I could possibly think of (and a complete departure from its film adaptation) is that it has no romance, or sexual love interest. Along with anyone else who’s seen the film, I was fully expecting descriptions of young Pi running around chasing Indian dancers…but this was not the case. The void that may be expected from this absence of such a strong novelistic convention is just not noticeable. Instead it leaves a space for a much more effective sense of the love Pi feels for his family, the animals, God, life, and eventually everything in his little lifeboat.
I would personally outline love and belief as the main points of the novel, although Yann Martel is reputably elusive and non-committal in his comments on his own writing. However the literal presence of an author (whether non-fictional or fictional) gives us readers at least some idea of the direction Martel is pointing us in – the observations in italics serve to stress a theme that Pi is to explore in the next chapter. Having said this, this direction is extremely loose and arbitrary – the book’s openness is part of its magnificent beauty, the ambiguous ending (no spoilers) and uncertainty of what is real and what Pi is imagining leaves you in deep discussion with yourself (and others) for a long time after finishing the book. What I realised was that, ultimately, the desire for a concrete ending is completely outweighed by the journey you experience with Pi of beautiful writing and a beautiful, unforgettable story.
Greed Satisfaction Scale: I thought I knew the exact taste to expect when starting this, but I was utterly and pleasantly surprised by the extreme variation of flavours – completely contrasting but combined to create a perfect concoction. The mixture and disparity of tastes is sure to suit absolutely any palate, and the flavour varies with every return.
Read it now: I'm slightly peeved I can't find a copy without the film cover, but get it here or for a beautiful illustrated version, here