. Spinning .

I love it; the comparisons Pi is coming up with to get his head around the Catholic God and in particular, the Son, Jesus:

The argument is wonderfully colloquial. It is a train of thought that displays a reasoning process–though that reason is bound by Pi's knowledge and belief of his own theology. One thing I become aware of here, however, is the capitalization of references to God, done much in the Christian manner that is taught in religious schools and is nearly impossible to shake as a habit of writing.

You gotta admit, this is great stuff. How do we decide our beliefs when faced with alternates? How do we pick our candidates, our leader of choice? Pi appears to decide on the basis of power, strength, something divine that is as far away from his understanding of human nature as possible. Yet the Catholic God has chosen to display Himself as not only human, but not one of wealth, power, or nobility.

I suspect that we also harbor these tendencies in our selection of national leaders; that they be at best, not like us. After all, we understand why we wouldn't want to see ourselves in such positions, then it makes sense not to trust someone who is not above our own capabilities (and failings) as our choice.

But then there's another aspect, in choosing both a God (or none) or a leader: What can He/he do for us?

Martel has foreshadowed religion as a topic that would be considered by Pi, by his comparing it to zoos, and in subtle ways that certainly led to his admission that religion is indeed important to him, and Hinduism formed his basis for all other thoughts about life.

Here, while the family is on holiday, Pi wanders purposefully into a Catholic church:

As a Catholic, I find this a hoot, though it seems to be a bit more commonly held an opinion than I guessed. Luckily, Pi finds that his fears are ungrounded as well, as he has tea with Father Martin who tells him a story:

The kettle of religion is boiling again, with the above "myth" being actively debated online, and in fact, in waiting for the new dirty word that the Fall television debuts would bring (last year's was ass, I believe) I've noticed that by the second show of any drama series, there's someone proclaiming the nonsense of religious belief.

I do enjoy the manner in which Martel approaches some of these dramatic points in the novel; they are not just treated with light humor, but in a very down-to-earth, human way that I find delightful. Martel's message comes through however; he is careful not to overshadow his meaning with rhetoric.

There are interesting little tidbits of thought that Martel drops through his story that seem to have some special importance, that relate to man’s questioning of life, yet are put in a stark, interesting way. Here, Pi has just listened to one of his favorite teachers explain his own loss of belief in God after a childhood bout with polio:

It wasn’t for fear of angering Mr. Kumar. I was more afraid that in a few words thrown out he might destroy something that I loved. What if his words had the effect of polio on me? What a terrible disease that must be if it could kill God in a man. (p. 35)

Martel has an interesting way of seeing things, of displaying them to the reader. Loss of faith is a major trauma; questioning faith is one for Pi. He still holds religion dear and he’s just seen how easily it can be lost.

His father, the zookeeper has another lesson to teach Pi and his older brother, Ravi; the danger of considering the animals in the zoo, from the smallest birds to the big cats, as not dangerous because of the adjustments they have made to their secure lives.

In both cases we look at an animal and see a mirror. The obsession with putting ourselves at the centre of everything is the bane not only of theologians but also of zoologists. (p. 39)

He brings in the idea of stuffed animal toys that try to change the truth into what man prefers to believe, sort of like the Bambi version of nature that is more acceptable to us, though far from reality. The danger, of course, is in replacing reality with our preferred version of fact, since the reality lurks beneath our mask of it.

Very interesting method so far, of Martel’s comparisons of the zoo with religion. He is evidently leading us on and into a more complex meaning of human nature.

Exactly that; close reading that strings phrases together to digest them in bites like appetizers.

It was a huge zoo, spread over numberless acres, big enough to require a train to explore it, though it seemed to get smaller as I grew older, train included.  Now it’s so small it fits in my head. (p. 15)

The Pondicherry zoo doesn’t exist any more Its pits are filled in, the cages torn down. I explore it now in the only place left for it, my memory. (p. 24)

First of all, I love the concept of "now it’s so small it fits in my head." What a lovely way to describe how memory works, and the loss of the reality as it is replaced by it in new form. It makes me think of how little difference there is between something that is seen, felt, touched, tasted, and left behind versus something that has only been read about perhaps. A simple turning around, or the closing of eyes produces the same "goneness" as something left halfway around the world. But my point is the tying in to reinforce the idea as Martel brings the notion of memory back within a few pages.

Below, he appears to again be foreshadowing a notion of religion and belief, then reinforcing it:

I have heard nearly as much nonsense about zoos as I have about God and religion. (p. 19)

I know zoos are no longer in people’s good graces. Religion faces the same problem. Certain illusions about freedom plague them both. (p. 24)

Via the narrator Pi, we learned the opposite of the general belief that people hold about animals held in captivity. Pi has explained that to an animal, the freedom is more available perhaps in a zoo, where it can depend upon safety, food, and a specific territory. The only reason an animal ranges over a larger area in the wild, he claims, is in pursuit of his needs.

I find another interesting thing about reading such a diverse group of literature; learning in a more interesting way–but that’s for another post.

This reverts back to Kundera’s (and I have a feeling that Kundera may be with me for life) theory on recurrence, and in particular, on Karenin’s joie de vivre being dependent upon repetition:

For that is what animals are, conservative, one might even say reactionary. The smallest changes can upset them. They want things to be just so, day after day, month after month. Surprises are highly disagreeable to them. (p. 20)

This is Martel’s philosophizing, in explanation–or rather, a rationalization–of Pi’s interest in animals after being brought up as the son of a zookeeper. This is getting interesting after my rather resistant start of the novel.

What Martel has done is clearly author intrusion by starting out the ‘novel’ with an "Author’s Note’" that gives the background of the reason and the story to follow.  I never usually read forewords, backwords, or spark notes until I’m done–unless I’m clearly lost and losing interest. I’m not sure if the "Author’s Note" then makes this work nonfiction, or whether Martel is just taking advantage of a writing device to make the story appear more personal and real, inviting closer reader involvement. Since I’m a Scorpio (translation: Well, which is it?) this put me off a bit right from the start.

Martel starts the story out with a great opening line:

My suffering left me sad and gloomy.

But then goes into a spin that gives us some information on the narrator, and even more on the two-toed sloth.  There are also some lists of animals that seem a bit too lengthy, and some crammed-in data about swimming and a peek into his early family life.

It’s definitely different, and little by little I’m opening my mind to what this author offers me, whether it be fiction or fictionalized.