Center for Teaching & Learning

Piscine Molitor Patel is in the same “boat” as many others his age: he deals with religion, family, and even moving. But when his immigration to Canada goes horribly wrong, he finds himself orphaned and in a completely different boat—one with a hyena, a zebra, an orangutan, and a tiger.
After spending his first night aboard dangling from an oar, Piscine realizes he must stake claim to his territory. The hyena is a constant threat, and Piscine has no control. But as the animals die off, soon all that is left is the most dangerous: the tiger. Filled not with the desire to survive, but the aim to die comfortably, Piscine sets out to create living accommodations.
To summon the will to fight through to the end would be barely believable right off the bat. Piscine’s urge to die comfortably may seem like a way for Yann Martell to create a realistic character, but I see it as an intentional choice that adds to the theme in a way I am still understanding. Piscine himself describes it with this matter of fact statement: “With a tiger aboard, my life was over. That being settled, why not do something about my parched throat?”
As Piscine dictates his story to a writer, he often interjects with the behavior of animals, family, and his hatred of agnostics. Through the dual perspectives of the writer and Piscine himself, his character develops in real-time as well as the past, allowing readers to see how Piscine’s early life affects him in his forties.
Much like Laura Hillenbrand's nonfiction book, Unbroken, a good third of Life of Pi takes place before the initial catastrophe. And, much like Unbroken, it’s not a part to skim over just to reach the “good stuff.” Watching Piscine mature and grapple with religions is essential and enjoyable. His joint worship of Hindu, Islam, and Christianity, and his involvement in religion hold a key to the major theme of the novel. All the dialogue and description is fundamental to a reader’s formulation of Piscine as a character. If readers are finding it boring, uninteresting, or a chore to read through the first part of his childhood, this most likely isn’t the book for them in the first place.
Piscine himself has a master’s degree in zoology—appropriate as he grew up in a zoo. I found myself learning a lot about animals and gaining perspective on zoos and animals in general. Entire chapters are filled with his theories, both religious and scientific, and Piscine is very opinionated—and therefore easy to disagree with. I have no doubt fans of Blackfish will find it difficult to accept the idea that animals prefer zoos to the wild. But Piscine offers a convincing argument, and ended up changing my view on the topic completely.
All in all, this was one of the most worthwhile books I’ve ever read. I recommend this novel to people who enjoy questioning and debating religion, and think they will find it worth their time.
Lucas
Random House of Canada, 319 pages.