Life of Pi, Yann Martel

I was all sorts of tickled by this book. It started with the Author’s Note. Martel’s candid story of how this book came to be was engaging. First his remark about fiction – “That’s what fiction is abut, isn’t it, the selective transforming of reality? The twisting of it to bring out its essence?” And then he talks about the struggles to write, to create SOMETHING, something complete. He says, “It’s a misery peculiar to would-be writers. Your theme is good, as are your sentences. Your characters are so ruddy with life, they practically need birth certificates. The plot you’ve mapped out for them is grand, simple and gripping. You’ve done your research, gathering the facts – historical, social, climatic, culinary – that will give your story its feel of authenticity. The dialogue zips along, crackling with tension. The descriptions burst with color, contrast and telling detail. Really, your story can only be great.” While I myself am no author (yet) these aspects seem to be the EXACT components of a good book, a wonderful checklist, of sorts, items necessary for a good book, a good read. It’s something I’d use to describe several books I’ve read, or could pinpoint exactly which items not so good book does NOT have.

Mattel goes on, though, and names one other KEY element needed: “But it all adds up to nothing in spite of the obvious, shining promise of it; there comes a moment when you realize that the whisper that has been pestering you all along from the back of your mind is speaking the flat awful truth; it won’t work. An element is missing, that spark that brings to life a real story, regardless of whether the history or the food is right. Your story is emotionally dead, and that’s the crux of it.” A lovely description of what makes a book, a book. So I started out already enjoying the author.

The book is based off a true story, but while he writes in the first person narrative, still, it’s a fiction piece, with some liberties or nuances made by the author.

I first heard about this book from PCT Tim, who was reading it during training. I mentioned I hadn’t heard of it and Tim, in a very Tim-like manner, said “Really? You’re one of the few who hasn’t, most people seem to know it.” So at that point I figured I was missing out on something and wanted to catch up to everyone else. I didn’t need much more prompting, because of what Tim told me, it was an interesting story – a guy named Pi on a lifeboat with wild animals – very cool. HOW did they get on the life boat? WHAT animals are on there with him? Is it a Noah’s ark sort of thing, where the animals live peacefully with each other? How long are they all on the life boat? My curiosity had to be quenched. I found the book (unfortunately, a long line of people were attached to Tim’s books) at Y Public Library, another surprising delight.

The story pulled me right in on the first couple pages with his anecdotes about sloths. We learn that Pi had two majors – Zoology and Religious Studies; the book revolves around these two subjects. He grew up in a zoo – his father’s a zookeeper - and from an early age was interested in religion. His first religious experience was with Hindu. Though, he, too, became enthralled by Christianity and then Islam, practicing all 3. He was 14 when he “met Jesus Christ on holiday.” His perspective on Christianity and how he compares it to Hinduism is very original. Though the idea of Jesus and his death greatly perplexes him, he gets pulled in. “I couldn’t get Him out of my head. Still can’t. I spent three solid days thinking about Him. The more He bothered me, the less I could forget Him. And the more I learned about Him the less I wanted to leave Him.”

After becoming a Christian, he raced to the Hindu temple “-to offer thanks to Lord Krishna for having put Jesus of Nazareth, whose humanity I found so compelling, in my way.” His first encounter and reaction to Islam and their prayers, the thought “Why, Islam is nothing but an easy sort of exercise.” He does go on to say, “I challenge anyone to understand Islam, its spirit and not to love it. It’s a beautiful religion of brotherhood and devotion.” It is an interesting and slightly humorous scene when the Pandit, Priest and Imam, along with Pi’s parents, discover his tribunal religious affiliations. “I just want to love God,” he says. Chapter 25 (there are 100 chapters in all. Some as brief as a paragraph) is an intelligent comment on religion. An interesting sentence from that chapter – “To me, religion is about our dignity, not our depravity.”

The lifeboat doesn’t come until Chapter 37, though the entire book, jumps around in the events of his life. The second main character of the story is Richard Parker, though it takes awhile to figure out who he is – or more like what. Their relationship was very deliberate and unique. The tidbits about zoos and zoology, as well as religion, life at sea, survival and other matters are all told in an open way, very frank (or modest, even) to the point of humorous, almost. Martel makes the physical elements of the story jump off the page to the reader. Very creative, engaging, full of strong ideas, conclusions, not all pleasant or agreeable, but still. The detail in which Martel (Pi) describes killing and eating is quite vivid. Definitely a worthwhile read, it’s something that gives you new things to think about. A couple other good quotes: “It’s not atheists who get stuck in my caw, but agnostics. Doubt is useful for awhile. We all must pass through the garden of Gethsemane. If Christ played with doubt, so must we… But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as means of transportation.”

“The reason death strikes so closely to life isn’t biological necessity – it’s envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive loge that grabs at what it can.”

Walden Two, B.F. Skinner

I heard about this book from the last Psychology classes I took with my favorite psych professor, Dr. Wann. Skinner, of course, was a well-known behavioral psychologist. The fact that it was a novel and not a textbook interested me, so I put it on my list. I came across it in the PC lounge and figured why not? I think it was in the lounge that I learned there’s also a book called Walden, written by Thoreau. Sounds impressive, though I had no idea what it was about (yep, I’m that sheltered). I come to learn that both books revolve around the idea of a utopian society – Thoreau’s sounds maybe more philosophical? But Skinner’s Walden Two features a utopian-based society driven by behavior engineering.

Now, immediately, that subject is aversive, right? It just seems without sentiment, cold, harsh and robotic. I was pleased to read, though that the concept and story was done in such a way, you weren’t picking an argument with the story the whole way through. As the group of six takes a several day tour of Walden Two, the name of the compound/campus/facility, the reader experiences the entirety of the society as the visitors do. And, all relevant issues/hang ups/etc. are bought forth and discussed. The work force, how the society is not really democratic, though not a dictatorship, either. The main character weighs all he has seen in his days there, and in a surprising or not-so-surprising ending, chooses to accept that way of life as his own and joins Walden Two. Fascinating to ponder.

Fortune’s Rocks, Anita Shreve

This book, being one of my favorites, I have read several times already, thought this was my first go at it with the copy that’s in YPL. I love this story, because, sure, it centers on a scandalous love affair, but Shreve does it in such an elegant way and really illuminates the thought process and development of a singular young woman. Sometimes when you read it, you feel it’s a vivid story of forbidden love – and who doesn’t want to hear about forbidden love? Other times, you are convinced she’s a Lolita and the entire affair was simply brought forth out of sexual attraction and nothing more – and the two are selfish to indulge.

This is a good chance to note several interesting quotes of the book. One theme of the story I have an interest and attraction to is portraits and the depths within them. Olympia is learning more about herself, her family and direct acquaintances and the world, and life as likened to a portrait seems so poetic. I will start with the last reference in the book, which seems to both open and conclude the idea. “‘Portraits,’ she thinks ‘…we are all unfinished portraits.’” This comes after learning more about Rufus Philbrick.

Then, when she has gained an insight into her mother’s life “… she suddenly looks different to Olympia, physically different, as though a portrait has been altered. And Olympia thinks that possibly such adjustments might have to be made for everyone she knows. Upon meeting a person, a sketch is formed and for the life of the relationship, however intimate or not, a portrait is painted, with oils or pastels or with black ink or with watercolor, and only at a person’s death can the portrait be considered finished. Perhaps not even at the person’s death.”

The talk of portraits begins with Olympia’s reflections of the collection of essays Haskell wrote. “In ‘On the Banks of the Rivers,’ John Warren Haskell presents to the reader seven stories, or rather, Olympia thinks, portraits – portraits that are extraordinary detailed and drawn with seemingly objectivity – of seven persons associated with the mills at Lowell, Holyoke, and Manchester: four female workers and three male. In the rendering of these portraits, there is a little rhetoric and no observable attempt on the part of the author to praise or to injure any of the men or women.” “‘They are not essays in the strictest sense, to be sure,’ says John Haskell. ‘They are profiles only. But I like to think the details of a life form a mosaic that in turn informs the reader about something larger than the life. I have drawings as well of these workers, which I commissioned…’”

“Olympia says, ‘I, for one, would very much like to see the drawings of the people you have written of…’ ‘But does that not destroy the very purpose of the written portrait?’ Philbrick asks. ‘How can one’s words ever equal the accuracy of a picture?’ ‘Surely there remains a great deal that cannot be caught in a likeness,’ John Haskell says. ‘Historical facts, for example or the joy of a marriage. The anguish resulting from the death of a child. Or simply a broken spirit.’ ‘But I, for one, have always thought that a life can be read on a face,’ says Philbrick. ‘It is how I do my business, by what I see in a face. Loyalty. Honesty. Cunning. Weakness.’ ‘Well, then we are in luck,’ says Catherine Haskell, brightly. ‘For my husband has brought his camera with him. Perhaps we may persuade him to make photographs of each of us tomorrow. After which we can decide for ourselves whether character may be read in the face.’”

And once Olympia’s own photography was taken, “Later, when she sees the photographs for the first time, she will be surprised at how calm her face looks – how steady her gaze, how erect her posture. In the picture, her eyes will be slightly closed, and there will be a shadow on her neck. The shawl will be draped around her shoulders, and her hands will rest in her lap. In this deceptive photograph, she will look a young woman who is not at all disturbed or embarrassed, but instead appears to be rather serious. And she wonders if, in its ability to deceive, photography is not unlike the sea which may offer a benign surface to the observer even as it conceals depths and current below.”Examining the deep layers of a person – any person – is very intriguing and gratifying to consider.

Though there are several more thoughts that occur to Olympia that I highly enjoyed about this novel, I have only one more to note: “And all this causes her to wonder at the disparity between the silk dresses and the natural postures of the body, and to think: How far, how far, we are willing to go to pretend we are not of the body at all.” Olympia’s adult life, filled with happiness and sorrow, is something I always enjoy submerging myself in, finding moments I can sympathize with, other moments I can empathize with. Shreve writes in a colorful style, and tells a thorough story.

The Lovely Bones, by Alice Sebold

This book came highly recommended by Aunt Becky, and when I saw it in the library here, I figured why not. Aunt Becky said it was about a young teen girl who was murdered and kinda sticks around, watching her family and noting the progress made on her case. Intriguing. The sort of blunt, matter of fact manner in which the main character, Susie, tells the story seems to juxtapose the emotion-laden essence of the story. Her death is very shortly described, mundane, almost though in her killer’s case, the act IS mundane to him; he’s done it several times before.

It’s an interesting concept, the description of heaven or whatever they call it is one that modifies with personality and desire – her heaven resembled a place with a senior high school with a good sports field, and a maternal figure. The maternal figure’s heaven was one that she got to help people. Her surviving family didn’t really triumph nor break apart, though leaned towards both ends at times. I hear it’s being made into a movie. It was worth reading; a little creepy, but worth it.

City of Ember/ People of Sparks, by Jeanne DuPrau

I read these books per recommendation of Librarian Lorrie. We were talking books and she said it was her favorite. I started reading it and enjoyed the concept – a people secluded and orderly, where jobs are pulled out of a hat and school ends at adolescence. The city is lit by a huge generator, nothing more, and power goes off from 9 to 6 every night. The generator is dying, food supplies are running out and the city needs a plan. Lina and Doon are the main characters, new to their jobs of Messenger and Pipeworker. They discover their mayor is shady and they eventually discover the instructions to deliver their city to safety, and a new life – above ground. We learn that they had been underground for hundreds of years.

It is definitely young adults’ book, though well-written. A good, stimulating plot, too. It is good for a teen to read and think about things – the future, the nature of people, our environment. Reminds me of The Giver and Anthem. The mystery in the book (deciphering a destroyed paper with instructions out of the city) was intriguing and the kids were good characters.

The second book tells about what happens after the City is led out of the ground. Due to the Three Disasters – war, disease and animosity - the population had greatly dwindled on Earth. They come to learn Ember is the product of a movement to ensure the continuation of the human race, before all the destruction happened. People HAD survived, though, and the people of Sparks tries to accommodate the City of Ember, though with much friction and problems to work out. Again, a good message to send to kids about our relationships with each other, and the struggles to do the right thing. There were more conflicts than happy parts in the story – the characters were always on edge – but the resolution was good.

It is a mature topic, but I think overall, it was expressed well for young adults. There is a third book Prophet of Yonwood, but I haven’t read it yet.

The Elder Gods, David and Leigh Eddings

I picked this up in the PC lounge, figuring that with all the heavy books I was borrowing, I should get an easier, entertaining read. I like mythological stories, and right there in the title was talk of gods, so why not? Well, it’s certainly an EASY read. A fluff book, to be completely honest. It amazes me they filled 500 pages with that lack of a story. It’s what I’d call an airplane book; something you buy at the airport and read while you’re in transit. Something to occupy your brain, bur nothing too stimulating.

The story was just too easy. The characters seemed more like demi-gods, the lines were cheesy, the conflict not believable as well as too weak. Stories, lines and situations repeated themselves and despite the long flowing paragraphs, not much seemed to happen.

It IS a concrete/ complete story, regardless, which I give credit for, it just seems like it was done by an amateur. It’d e an impressive first novel for a high school guy. It’s hard to believe they stretched the story into at trilogy. I wouldn’t be opposed to finding out how the rest goes, though I don’t plan on being impressed or literarily fulfilled.

East of Eden, by John Steinbeck

An intimidating author, an intimidating-sized book and a very slow beginning. I was wary to go on, but I wanted to start reading classics, and Steinbeck certainly is a classic author. I feared the long descriptions of the geographical and natural area of the Salinas Valley would be too flowery and pretentious for me, but as I read on, it became less flowery and more movingly artistic. This, just like The Stone Diaries, is a multi-generational piece, though the focus is on a few characters, namely one though, Adam Trask. His life is followed completely in it, the book ending with his word, the symbolic “timshel.”

As the title suggests, the concept of fall from grace (more of mankind’s natural tendency to make wrong decisions) is strong. The plot of the entire book is practically summed up by one philosophical chat between Adam, Samuel, the other main character, and Lee, a major character as well. The struggle among siblings, especially brothers, is a patterned problem in the book, and in this part the three men were discussing the story of Cain and Abel. How one kills the other out of jealousy, though still has the power to overcome sin. Lee describes years spent studying those Bible chapters – even learning Hebrew to best comprehend it – the mere fact that these characters would spend such a long while on such a task is so charming. It adds to the believability of the story – and what it comes down to it is one word – timshel – thou mayest.

Lee passionately says “But ‘thou mayest!’ Why, that makes a man great, that gives him stature with the gods, for in his weakness and his filth and his murder of his brother he has still the great choice.” Lee goes on to say further, “But think of the glory of the choice! That makes a man a man. A cat has no choice, a bee must make honey. There’s no godliness there.” Now, I don’t know if I like the reference to “gods” or “godliness,” though I think Steinbeck means to simply emphasize the magnificence of man’s potential. Lee, in the story, is a proclaimed atheist, though I’m not sure about Steinbeck.

As there were triumphs over evil in varying degrees, there too was the devilish character in the book, Cathy. While redemption would have been cinematographically satisfying, this did not happen with her. In the end, she simply surrendered. Which brings me to another satisfying quote in the book: “We have only one story. All novels, all poetry, are built on the never-ending contest in our selves of good and evil. And it occurs to me that evil must constantly respawn, while good, while virtue, is immortal. Vice has always a new fresh young face, while virtue is venerable as nothing else in the world is.” The “evil” of Cathy was vanquished and Steinbeck portrays this as the virtue remaining immortal, while triumphing over evil, but also as sobering that this was but one victory, evil will come again in other ways.

None of the characters followed an archetype of good or evil, none established a mold and stuck with it. What came out of the characters mouths couldn’t always be predicted, but as soon as they said it, it was fitting. In writing such a complete story, Steinbeck certainly didn’t lead the story any which way; the story seemed to lead him. I am eager to read more of his and I know I can pick this up again in a few years and be delighted once more.

The Stone Diaries, by Carol Shields

I enjoyed this book; it reminded me of A Woman of Independent Means, by Elizabeth Hailey, in that it mainly revolved around the long life of one woman. Daisy, the leading lady, certainly wasn’t very lovable, but likeable because she was a regular woman. There were no explicit heroes or good guys; each character had its ups and downs. I loved how Daisy’s father, Cuyler, was such a quiet, plain man who lived such a life until he saw something that sparked in him and he went for it. He made his own happiness, he discovered it and held onto it. After his wife (his spark) died, he started building a tower around her grave and it grew to be a magnificent attraction for the area. It unknowingly paved the rest of his life.

Another enjoyable character development was defined during a monologue of one of Daisy’s daughters, Alice. All her life, she’d lived in the same room and stared up at the same crack in the ceiling. Its persistence got to her. So one morning, she got a ladder, some putty, sanded it, painted over it and erased it. She says, “In one day, I had altered my life: my life, therefore, was alterable. This simple action did not cry out for exegesis; no, it entered my bloodstream directly, as powerful as heroin. I could feel it pump and surge, the way it brightened my veins to a kind of glass. I had wakened that morning to narrowness and predestination and now I was falling asleep in the storm of my own free will.” Lovely. What’s great about this book is that it is humble. An easy read, enjoyable, too.