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30A English Journal
Saturday, 1 November 2014
Wednesday, 22 October 2014
Structure: Parallel Plots and Jazz Music
The structure in Life of Pi is confusing at first, but it enhances the story once the reader figures out what is going on. It's kind of like Jazz music; nothing matches rhythmically, but it presented as a whole song. This does a lot for the person on the receiving end, some listeners like jazz for intricacy and mismatched sounds, but most others call it noisy garbage.
The structure in life of Pi was kind of like that for me, I didn't like it until I could see what Martel was doing, and the effects of the structure.
Parallel Plot/Fictional Author
The main story is about Pi's life, his childhood and surviving the Pacific (first person, Pi.) The subplot is from the fictional author's viewpoint, reflecting on the material he receives from his interviews with Pi, and who Pi is now (first person, author.) This double-journey adds complexity and believability to the story, especially with the first part cleverly disguised as an 'Author's Note,' embellishing facts and enhancing realism.
I think the other reason the subplot is unique is because it's a 'flash-forward' instead of a 'flashback.' It provides a lot of foreshadowing, and also helps vary the pace of the novel. This helped me maintain focus when reading, so that part one (descriptive as it was) wouldn't be as drawn out. It also explains some details without needing to inject more into Pi's main story.
I predicted that this would be an hourglass plot, but it is a true parallel, because the stories never really meet. The italicized author's story is never mentioned in the main story.
Chapter Length/Parts
Another interesting structure point is that the length of chapters is inconsistent. I think that the reason for this to to mimic someone telling a story orally; that some memories will be more detailed than others, some will be episodic (the three religious men approaching Pi at once) and some will be reflections (Pi talking about animals in the zoo.) I think it was done effectively, not just for pacing, but to give an impression of how Pi may have told the author about the story.
Sometimes the chapters break off mid-sentence. It's kind of discontenting to end a chapter that way, reflecting the events that were in the chapter (Martel does this most in Part 2, The Pacific Ocean.) I also had the feeling that maybe 'future-Pi' couldn't continue talking about the sinking (and the loss of his family) and stopped talking to the author for a moment.
What interested me about dividing the book into parts was that part one and two were about the same, but much longer than Part 3 (which was only a few pages.) What actually happened to Pi is small compared to his creative account. The attention (or lack of) given to the 'true story' is shocking; it completes the loose ends and proves that we'd prefer the miracle-driven story. Pi reveals a profound connection to the animals he has personified; who were additional survivors that died violently, but the novel doesn't really dwell on it. After reading, I kept thinking about the end because I felt it didn't really conclude, but perhaps that is Martel again, making his book mirror how life works, where there are always loose ends.
Other Interesting Things:
The font in part three changes when the inspectors are speaking Japanese. We can see that they doubt Pi, but are polite to him in English anyway.
Pi is technically an unreliable narrator; where the person telling the story is actually deceiving the reader. The only other one I can think of would be The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and another where a french-resistance spy spins a tale to confuse the Nazi intelligence. The timeframe of Part Two didn't actually happen the way he described, which puts him in this category.
The font in part three changes when the inspectors are speaking Japanese. We can see that they doubt Pi, but are polite to him in English anyway.
Pi is technically an unreliable narrator; where the person telling the story is actually deceiving the reader. The only other one I can think of would be The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and another where a french-resistance spy spins a tale to confuse the Nazi intelligence. The timeframe of Part Two didn't actually happen the way he described, which puts him in this category.
Wednesday, 15 October 2014
Connections to Other Texts: Call it Courage
While reading 'Life of Pi' it reminded me of another book, another boy on a lone craft on the Pacific with only animals for company, struggling to survive the perils of the ocean. This book is 'Call it Courage,' a classic by Armstrong Sperry. It is about a boy, Mafutu (along with his dog and albatross) growing up by conquering his fear of the sea.
The situations are similar, so why does the reader experience each story different? I would say that I could root equally for both main characters, but when it comes to pivotal moments, Pi loses more than he wins. Mafutu is always successful, never in doubt of his abilities. Basically, 'Call it Courage' gives us a winning high, where Mafutu can beat the odds over and over again (which is repetitive, but it still works in the novella.) 'Call it Courage' is like watching a superhero cartoon, you know they'll win, but it holds your attention. Although Pi must do the same things as Mafutu to survive (catching food, building shelter) Pi doesn't know how to do any of this (and has a more stressing animal companion than Mafutu.)
Pi just seems to have it worse, where his challenges are a test of faith, almost more than just survival. Yann Martel writes in a realistic manner, where Pi's story sounds like a true account, rather than an adventure story. It adds a sense of marvel to the more unbelievable parts in 'Life of Pi.' We want to believe that a boy can tame tigers, end up with a boat of flying fish, and that God is out there. When 'Life of Pi' ends with a transcript of the conversation with the Japanese representatives, it is a blow to the reader to discover the 'truth' of Pi's time on the lifeboat. Like the Japanese, the reader is likely to choose the story with God and the animals, but the alternate ending leaves a bitter taste-- and something more to think about.
I think that understanding Martel's aims for the book enlightens us on his view about the world-- that we must live with hard facts, but it is how we remember them that changes our lives. Pi's family dies, Martel highlights the mother especially, but how Pi expresses this death first as Orange Juice, shows how he alienates himself from the circumstances. When we learn that the tiger story is a fabrication, we unfortunately learn the true events on the lifeboat. Pi says,
"In both stories the ships sinks, my family dies, and I suffer." (Page 352)
His point is that both stories, in essence, are true, but we will prefer the one that gives us hope. Pi's minimal victory in an ocean of hardship makes us celebrate, even though the only thing saved is one human life.
The situations are similar, so why does the reader experience each story different? I would say that I could root equally for both main characters, but when it comes to pivotal moments, Pi loses more than he wins. Mafutu is always successful, never in doubt of his abilities. Basically, 'Call it Courage' gives us a winning high, where Mafutu can beat the odds over and over again (which is repetitive, but it still works in the novella.) 'Call it Courage' is like watching a superhero cartoon, you know they'll win, but it holds your attention. Although Pi must do the same things as Mafutu to survive (catching food, building shelter) Pi doesn't know how to do any of this (and has a more stressing animal companion than Mafutu.)
Pi just seems to have it worse, where his challenges are a test of faith, almost more than just survival. Yann Martel writes in a realistic manner, where Pi's story sounds like a true account, rather than an adventure story. It adds a sense of marvel to the more unbelievable parts in 'Life of Pi.' We want to believe that a boy can tame tigers, end up with a boat of flying fish, and that God is out there. When 'Life of Pi' ends with a transcript of the conversation with the Japanese representatives, it is a blow to the reader to discover the 'truth' of Pi's time on the lifeboat. Like the Japanese, the reader is likely to choose the story with God and the animals, but the alternate ending leaves a bitter taste-- and something more to think about.
I think that understanding Martel's aims for the book enlightens us on his view about the world-- that we must live with hard facts, but it is how we remember them that changes our lives. Pi's family dies, Martel highlights the mother especially, but how Pi expresses this death first as Orange Juice, shows how he alienates himself from the circumstances. When we learn that the tiger story is a fabrication, we unfortunately learn the true events on the lifeboat. Pi says,
"In both stories the ships sinks, my family dies, and I suffer." (Page 352)
His point is that both stories, in essence, are true, but we will prefer the one that gives us hope. Pi's minimal victory in an ocean of hardship makes us celebrate, even though the only thing saved is one human life.
Wednesday, 24 September 2014
Figurative Language: Sloths, Ice Cream, Secular Prayer
The style of Life of Pi is very descriptive. Martel uses lots of figurative language to paint a picture of the events in Pi's life. The following are some examples that stood out to me:
"Father saw himself as part of New India-- rich, modern and as secular as ice cream."
I suppose one of the reasons I have returned to passively studying religion is because some of the things I thought to be superstitious nonsense are actually effective. Specifically meditation, which I have made a serious attempt at. I was astonished at the immediate change both physically and mentally (you don't actually float, but it feels like it.) Of course, I had my very own secular mantras (just numbers from one to ten.) It was like prayer for the non-believer. For someone who is very skeptical of the value of prayer, this was a shock. In situations where I used to be nervous, I could perform, speak, or contribute without nausea taking over. I reminded me of another phrase in Life of Pi,
I feel like this little piece of figurative language enhanced my reading of Life of Pi because it gives insight to the background of Pi's parents, and I snorted with surprised laughter. I think it captures secularism perfectly; the definition being 'no religious or spiritual basis.' Thank God Pi doesn't think of secularism as devil-worship. I found it effective because it was unexpected, unlike countless descriptions that all sound commonplace and bland.
Martel's description is not successful from abundance, but rather the skill in which he wields it with. He does a lot of personification towards animals, especially Richard Parker. My favourite example of personifying animals is actually in the first chapter, when Pi describes the three-toed sloth.
This description enhanced my reading by giving me a sense of who 'future-Pi' is. He is enthralled by peace, which is something must appreciate greatly. It gives a brief introduction to how religion vs. science might be discussed in the rest of the novel, where they co-exist. The underlined metaphor also caught my attention. The reason is that you could apply this statement to Pi in Part Three, where he reluctantly gives a factual account after his exaggerated story. Despite the Japanese men probing for the 'truth,' it doesn't tell them the heart of the incident, which is the loss of human life, worth more than cargo. It is a nice sentiment to know that we are still more than experiments and test subjects, even if we were not formed by a deity. Although I do think that science is the legitimate way to examine our universe, I think there is more to our lives than being carbon-based life-forms consuming energy and reproducing for the sake of upping the population. Looking for that 'more' doesn't necessarily mean religion; it is philosophy, and I think a lot of atheists miss out on asking this question of why we exist, (even if the answer isn't God.)
“Atheists are my brothers and sisters of a different faith, and every word they speak, speaks of faith. Like me, they go as far as the legs of reason will carry them – and then they leap.”
Understanding this made the book much more meaningful to me. Although I can never appreciate the Bible (too much genocide, at least in the Old Testament) spirituality and secularism aren't all that different. Truth can come from both, and Life of Pi expresses this thoroughly. Figurative language is good to keep Martel's philosophic lectures lighthearted and relatable. Under the influence of his carefully crafted words, I have uncovered my own perspective to religion. Life of Pi certainly has the capacity to make one 'believe in God.'
"Father saw himself as part of New India-- rich, modern and as secular as ice cream."
Image Source |
I suppose one of the reasons I have returned to passively studying religion is because some of the things I thought to be superstitious nonsense are actually effective. Specifically meditation, which I have made a serious attempt at. I was astonished at the immediate change both physically and mentally (you don't actually float, but it feels like it.) Of course, I had my very own secular mantras (just numbers from one to ten.) It was like prayer for the non-believer. For someone who is very skeptical of the value of prayer, this was a shock. In situations where I used to be nervous, I could perform, speak, or contribute without nausea taking over. I reminded me of another phrase in Life of Pi,
I feel like this little piece of figurative language enhanced my reading of Life of Pi because it gives insight to the background of Pi's parents, and I snorted with surprised laughter. I think it captures secularism perfectly; the definition being 'no religious or spiritual basis.' Thank God Pi doesn't think of secularism as devil-worship. I found it effective because it was unexpected, unlike countless descriptions that all sound commonplace and bland.
Martel's description is not successful from abundance, but rather the skill in which he wields it with. He does a lot of personification towards animals, especially Richard Parker. My favourite example of personifying animals is actually in the first chapter, when Pi describes the three-toed sloth.
"The sloth is at its busiest at sunset, using the word busy here in the most relaxed sense. It moves along the bough of a tree in its characteristic upside-down position at the speed of roughly 400 metres an hour. On the ground, it crawls to its next tree at the rate of 250 metres an hour, when motivated, which is 440 times slower than a motivated cheetah. Unmotivated, it covers four to five metres in an hour.
The three-toed sloth is not well informed about the outside world. ... If you come upon a sleeping three-toed sloth in the wild, two or three nudges should suffice to awaken it; it will then look sleepily in every direction but yours. Why it should look about is uncertain since the sloth sees everything in a Magoo-like blur. ... They are said to be able to sniff and avoid decayed branches, but Bullock (1968) reported that sloths fall to the ground clinging to decayed branches "often".
How does it survive, you might ask.
Precisely by being so slow. Sleepiness and slothfulness keep it out of harm's way, away from the notice of jaguars, ocelots, harpy eagles and anacondas. A sloth's hairs shelter an algae that is brown during the dry season and green during the wet season, so the animal blends in with the surrounding moss and foliage and looks like a nest of white ants or of squirrels, or like nothing at all but part of a tree.
The three-toed sloth lives a peaceful, vegetarian life in perfect harmony with its environment. ... I am not one given to projecting human traits and emotions onto animals, but many a time during that month in Brazil, looking up at sloths in repose, I felt I was in the presence of upside-down yogis deep in meditation or hermits deep in prayer, wise beings whose intense imaginative lives were beyond the reach of my scientific probing.
Sometimes I got my majors mixed up. ... the three-toed sloth, such a beautiful example of the miracle of life, reminded me of God."
“Atheists are my brothers and sisters of a different faith, and every word they speak, speaks of faith. Like me, they go as far as the legs of reason will carry them – and then they leap.”
Understanding this made the book much more meaningful to me. Although I can never appreciate the Bible (too much genocide, at least in the Old Testament) spirituality and secularism aren't all that different. Truth can come from both, and Life of Pi expresses this thoroughly. Figurative language is good to keep Martel's philosophic lectures lighthearted and relatable. Under the influence of his carefully crafted words, I have uncovered my own perspective to religion. Life of Pi certainly has the capacity to make one 'believe in God.'
Sunday, 21 September 2014
Allusions: Tsimtsum (the ship)
Tsimtsum: the Shattering of a Vessel
Life of Pi Cinematic Poster |
The Tsimstum is the name of the boat that is supposed to take Pi's family from Manila to Canada, but sinks in the Pacific.
This is a major allusion in the book, but we don't realize it because we aren't familiar with Hebrew, or Japanese. I couldn't find a translation from Japanese, but it did come up with many Hebrew results. Hebrew seems to be a common language in the Bible, and is also commonly associated with Jewish people. Since Pi is quite religious, I decided to see what Tsimtsum was alluding to. So here is my weak attempt at understanding articles about Tsimstum.
What is is:
Tzimtzum (Hebrew) means that God is contracting his infinite light to make a space for an independent creation. It also means that in order to convey knowledge, the teacher must reduce his messages to one simple line of thought in order to share it with a pupil; a circle/cycle of interrelated ideas must be turned into a parable (story.) It is about being present while you are absent; or since God is everything, he can withdraw himself to make something that is not God (i.e. the physical world,) explaining the presence of evil, and how it is not a part of him.
Once God's infinite light receded, he could create not Adam, but Adam Kadmon, which was more like his image as the sum of all souls. The light and energy from this Adam Kadmon created vessels (containers) for more of the infinite light. But Adam's light was less controlled than God's, which shattered the vessels, and in turn, broke Adam Kadmon into individual souls. These souls became exiled and lost, and now each has turned into a human soul. The goal for humanity is to reunite the pieces of souls so Adam Kadmon can co-exist with God again.
How it relates to Life of Pi:
The first thing God must do when creating and independent being (Pi) is to retract his infinite light (omnipresence.) I believe this points to the dangerous storm and conditions that caused so much hardship to Pi. The Vessel (the ship) was shattered, just as Adam Kadmon's vessels were. It broke the complexity of Pi's story in Part One (Pondicherry childhood) into a story of a singular and concentrated goal; survival, for Part Two (The Pacific,) just as God (the mentor) would need to reduce his omniscience circle of knowledge into specific thought for transferring wisdom to a newer being (pupil.) We are much more clear about the direction of Pi's main story when his goals are clearly defined (taming Richard Parker, fishing, staying alive,) and can learn more about how he became the man he was during the italicized interviews in Canada.
It could even be implied that Pi is like Adam Kadmon, who is created by Tzimtzum in God's image, once God removes himself. We already know that Pi's religious view is only to love God, and that a denomination does not matter so long as it is God. It is arguable that Pi seems closer to God than his three mentors of different churches, and that he sees all unified as one. Adam Kadmon may be in the image of God, but his power is not as contained as God's because he doesn't master Tzimtzum. When Pi reveals that he is the equivalent animal to the tiger, Richard Parker, he has been trying to master his own strength for the entire book. Richard Parker is described as Pi to be beautiful and terrible, but the only thing that could keep him alive; despite the threat of constant danger if Pi lost control of himself.
When Pi does lose control (due to incredible horrors of butchering and cannabalism on the lifeboat) he destroys another human life in revenge. In part two, he describes this as the hyena and Blind Frenchman on the second lifeboat being devoured by Richard Parker, when really, Pi stabs the ship's cook for killing the sailor (the Zebra) and Pi's mother (the Orang-utan, Orange Juice.) He ends the story of the blind man with stating that he prays for the man's soul everyday after; and that Pi's own blindness is lifted.
However, like Adam Kadmon, the souls lost as the result of the Tzimtzum shattering cannot be recovered by Pi. His family's (and the crew's souls) were lost at sea, the other world, just like Adam's pieces. Because one cannot explain God, Pi cannot explain the Tsimtsu sinking. Once he tells the Japanese representatives both stories, they decide they prefer the one with the animals instead of a cannabalistic crew member and homicide. The animal story is the one with God, and to paraphrase the Japanese representative, the life with God and the animals is preferable.
And Pi replies, "Thank you. And so it goes with God."
What this allusion/symbol means to me, and to reading:
Some of the more obvious allusions (e.g. Crown of Thorns) were more part of the descriptive language to me, but others, like the one above on the ship, changed my point of view towards the book. For a long time I struggled with understanding how Pi could justify his belief in God despite losing his family and his identity (such as vegetarianism) and witnessing horrendous violence at the hands of his brutish benefactor aboard the lifeboat. These are questions I've always asked of religion, if God is omnibenevolent, how could evil be present in the world? No one has been able to give me this answer, ever (and not for lack of asking.) The idea presented in Tzimtzum has given me a reasonable enough explanation for a second look; especially since I've never liked Genesis much with its talking snake and original sin.
The explanation of Adam Kadmon in God's image may not be secular, but it adds clarity to the creation story of the Old Testament. Assuming you know Genesis, God makes something from nothing. But if God is everything, how can it be nothing? When He retracts his infinite light, it creates a vacuum in which to create the universe. It is when God 'abandons' Pi that his trial begins, just as Adam Kadmons'. He does not strive to gain power, but to control what he already has alongside God, his creator. It makes sense for Pi/Adam's identity and struggle to co-exist with a perfect God.
This idea of how Pi could preserve his love for a God that abandoned him is now supported by something very subtle, but it assisted me in understanding how Pi's faith was steadfast throughout the book.
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