Tuesday, October 5, 2010

A Critical Acclaim

Critical Analysis:

With a gentle, conversational tone, Life of Pi functions not merely as a fictional narrative, but also as a moral platform, transforming it into a contemporary fable. Dealing with moral, philosophical, scientific, and practical quandaries, Life of Pi presents to the reader the question: What would you do if you were in the same situation? Of course the question is not specifically asked, but as the story unfolds, the reader finds himself asking this question repeatedly.

Yann Martel has written his protagonist, Pi Patel, into an impossible situation: cohabitation with a tiger. Stranded on a lifeboat. This original and unusual setting is ideal for Martel to use Pi as a vehicle for contemplating existential issues. Why am I alive? What am I supposed to do now? What is the point of surviving? All of these questions are dealt with subtly as Pi struggles to find his course of action.

Pi eventually decides that he is alive, why, he is not sure, but as a result, he decides, he must continue surviving, the only way to do so by taming the wild Bengal tiger on his lifeboat. Pi ignores the need to find out what the point of all his effort is, for he manages to find purpose in the simple occurrences of nature; a gentle rain, a fresh turtle, a school of flying fish. By acting out of self-preservation, Pi keeps his mind occupied and therefore has no room, nor time, to accommodate depression.

However, these solutions are reached without the author’s direct involvement; Martel never forces readers to accept his point of view. Rather, Pi operates as a rhetorical questioner, proposing situations and conclusions that are explored but not resolved. At least as far literal text is concerned. Martel uses the story as a means to lead readers to a general conclusion regarding the subjects at hand, eventually leaving the entire validity of the narrative in the hands of the readers when Pi gives a completely different, more scientific, story to the Japanese investigators.

In fact, this final debate—which account actually happened—can be seen as the ultimate theme of the book. Pi’s story, as it unfolds in the pages of the book, requires faith to accept at a true account. His version of events to the Japanese, though, requires little or no faith to accept, as it is logical and resides in the realm of the familiar. This juxtaposition echoes the book’s dual exploration of religion and science. Both are kept in separate spheres, yet, as far as Pi is concerned, both affect the other.

Martel’s remarkable ability to make the scientific and religious issue of the book appealing to all readers proves vital to the success of the story as a work of art. Were his story to be flat, the treasures of the religious elements would remain buried. Were his incorporation of zoology into the narration of Pi to be dry, the nuggets of insight into human nature would not be discovered. However, through the seamless blend of the scientific and the religious, readers are able to put down Life of Pi, albeit after savoring every last page, and walk away having been challenged to renew their perspective on life and how its various facets affect participate in evolving their character.

5 comments:

  1. I really liked that, it's true that the development of different of several themes gives the stroy more depth, without one or the other it wouldn't be the masterpiece it is.

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  2. I like that you say it takes faith to accept the first story and it doesn't to accept the second. I think this also shows how it takes faith to accept some things in science as well. I view the crazy island as a scientific hypothesis that, at first ridiculed, can only truly be accepted through faith. Like the quantum theory. It doesn't make sense, but you have to have faith in the experiments.

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  3. False. Quantum theory and physics do make sense. They just operate in a different paradigm than that to which we are used to.

    That's all I wanted to say.

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  4. I think the opposite could be argued as well. The first story can make perfect sense (he explains every part of it very logically) while the second story requires us to have the worst kind of faith: faith that when things go bad, people (our own kind) go worse. I'm not saying you're wrong, I just think someone (including you) could argue the opposite point just as rationally.

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  5. As always, well written. And as before, I knew it was yours after one or two lines. Eventually I'm hoping to get it by the title. I liked how you called this a modern fable and then backed it up.

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