’ Life is a peephole, a single tiny entry onto a vastness.’
We have all heard the phrase ‘you can’t judge a book by it’s cover.’ While this is a good l’ Life is a peephole, a single tiny entry onto a vastness.’
We have all heard the phrase ‘you can’t judge a book by it’s cover.’ While this is a good life lesson, especially when taken as a metaphor that extends beyond books and into people, places, foods, etc., sometimes the cover of a novel is very telling of what lies within. Yann Martel’s Life of Pi wears it’s heart on it’s sleeve. A quick glance at the cover shows the overzealous stamp of ‘Winner of the Man Booker Prize’, INTERNATIONAL BESTSELLER, the indication that, yes, this is ‘A Novel’, and an image that both depicts the major plot point of the novel, thus spoiling the surprise of who Richard Parker really is. All this praise lauded upon the cover is instantly telling that this is a novel that has reached a wide audience, and is most likely aimed towards wide critical acclaim. That is all fine, and bravo to Mr. Martel for being able to leave his mark on the bestseller list, something I can only imagine in my wildest of wildest dreams, but sometimes when reaching for a large audience you have to elbow out a small percentage of readers. I am that small percentage that was elbowed out by Martel’s attempt to make an accessible novel that will touch the reader on a spiritual level. This is a difficult novel to review as, firstly, I did enjoy reading the book. I gave in to reading this book that I have been purposely avoiding after reading the excellent review from mi Hermana. I had a lot of fun discussing this book with her, texting her my shocks and suprises in the plot, and discussing the book in several threads with fellow Goodreaders. As anyone can see with a quick glance at the overall ratings, this book seems to really strike a chord in many readers, yet also brings a large crowd of dissenters. While I did extract a good deal of pleasure from the novel, it just didn’t sit well with me at the same time. In all fairness to the novel, and to my usual reading list, I have to dissect this book with the same views of novels that I would any other. This begs the question as to ‘why do we read?’, and this reason differs from person to person much like each persons meaning of life – a theme explored in Pi. Life of Pi was a pleasurable read that suffered from a heavy-handed serving of morality. While Martel delivers one charming phrase after the next with a graceful flow, he would have greatly benefited from a touch of subtlety.
All to often, Martel would draw conclusions for the reader. A prime example occurs in the first few pages when Pi’s science teacher visits the Zoo (a zoo that he does not hold back from explaining how it serves as a metaphor for humanity), and calls out the name of well-known scientists whose studies pertain to the activities of the animals he is currently viewing. Martel spoils the moment by explaining that Mr. Kumar liked to prove to himself ‘that everything was order’. It felt as if Martel didn’t believe his readers could connect the dot. Even more obscure ideas are spoiled in such a manner. When a rain of flying fish saves Pi and Richard Parker from certain hunger, he thanks Vishnu saying ‘once you saved the world by taking the form of a fish. Now you have saved me by taking the form of a fish’. While I would not have made this connection, it ruins that ‘ah-ha!’ moment for those that do. It is that special moment of understanding an allusion in literature that keeps me reading a wide variety of texts, and it seems insulting to have someone to make connections without giving you an opportunity. Even at the very end, in his shocking twist of an ending (I must profess this novel has an incredible conclusion), the two Chinese men literally draw the connections for you saying something to the effect of ‘oh, this is this and that means that…’. This all seems to be Martel’s way of making sure his message gets heard, and is able to reach everyone. It is a noble goal, and it gets people who do not typically read to like and enjoy a book, so I cannot necessarily knock him for it as that was his goal, but this is all to my chagrin.
‘It's important in life to conclude things properly,’ Pi explains, ‘only then can you let go. Otherwise you are left with words you should have said but never did, and your heart is heavy with remorse’. The question now is, does Martel conclude things properly? I personally loved the conclusion to this book. He successfully pulls the rug out from under the reader and exposes the real message behind the book. Without spoiling anything, this novel makes a good statement on the powers of storytelling with both a fun plot device and well crafted statements such as ‘that's what fiction is about, isn't it, the selective transforming of reality? The twisting of it to bring out its essence?’ Had he left it at that, it would have been wonderful and allowed for mass interpretability and the reader could have easily connected it to spirituality. However, Martel forces the connection to religion down the reader’s throat. The whole beginning section of the novel, which details Pi’s exploration of various religions, seems irrelevant for the majority the novel. Occasionally he will pray or include some stunning statements on the beauty of life and the grace of God/gods, but it seems to have been only there to make sure you were looking for the religious metaphors in the plot and comes across as Martel with a death grip on the readers head, jerking it back and forth shouting ‘look here! Notice that! Remember what we talked about!?’ While much of the focus on spirituality was well done, it was far too heavy-handed and led to a rather narrow interpretation on the ending.
My major concern is that Martel only gave us what he thought the reader would want, making quotes such as ‘ I know what you want. You want a story that won’t surprise you. That will confirm what you already know. That won’t make you see higher or further or differently,’ seem like he wasn’t being as ironic with the ending as he hoped it would be. While the conclusion comes out as ‘bet you didn’t see that coming’, it really doesn’t say anything that hasn’t been said before. The novel is heralded as being an affirmation of faith, and that’s exactly what it is, an affirmation. It isn’t going to challenge your beliefs, although he does an excellent job allowing different religious figures to challenge the differences in belief of one another even if it is the same concepts anyone would learn in a 100 level humanities course; it isn’t going to convert any readers to a life of devotion; it only provides a blanket and a comfort to those that already believe. Which, once again, is not a bad thing, if that is what you are looking for. It reminded me of something a professor once told me in a World Religions course. He described church as something that, and this is his opinion, is a crutch for those who needed it. He compared the obligation to attend to telling a girlfriend you only hang out with them because you feel you have to and are obligated to. While his opinion is a bit harsh and easily offensive, what he was really trying to say is you should believe because you want to, not because you have to. Martel makes it seem like you have to believe in these things, and I see why that makes this book hard to swallow for someone who doesn’t. Once again, in hopes to reassure and reach a large audience, Martel rudely elbows out the remainder. However, I really feel uncomfortable discussing beliefs on the open seas of the internet, and I really hope nothing said here offends you as that is not my intention. Please understand I am only speaking in relevance to my thoughts on a book, not on religion. The insistence of Martel to wrap a cool concept with spirituality is a major reason why it is so difficult to talk about this book. It is hard to separate the two ideas, but I’m doing my best to keep this focused on the literary aspects. I’m getting too self-conscious! The whole point here is that a lot of what Martel says has been said before, better, and with more willingness to evoke a change in the reader.
All that said, there is a lot that I truly enjoyed about this book. If you push all the aforementioned details aside, this was a wild ride. This made me want to visit zoos and hug a tiger. Look how cute this tiger is: [image] Tell me you don’t want to hug that! I really enjoyed the wealth of zoological knowledge Martel bestows upon the reader, and his insistence on seeming ‘realistic’ with his animals. After reading this book, you will know why you should never, ever try to hug a tiger or take a wild animal for granted. He makes an interesting point how we force cute cuddly animal toys on children and make them think they are some domestic pet. While this is used as an excellent point that humans are the villain, which is easily slotted into the religious issues as an explanation that it isn’t religion that causes violence but the people abusing the rhetoric, it does seem ironically opposed to his final statement of how religion glosses over the grimy, difficult to handle details of life and makes it easier to handle. Are cute cuddly animal toys then religion? This novel is a very positive message to the world, and anything promoting peace and harmony can’t be all that bad. I enjoyed statements such as ‘ If there's only one nation in the sky, shouldn't all passports be valid for it?’, which is an important idea considering the violence that takes place around the world. I also enjoyed how the animal story is also chock full of scientific facts and details, which fuses the idea of religion and science together instead of showing them as opposites. Thre were some symbolism, the ones he left untainted by a forced explanation, that really struck me. The tiger itself is open for many views, either as God, Pi, or life itself - something we must face and tame lest it destroy us. However, could it be the killer inside us all, an urge and animalistic force we must keep in check in order to exist in a civilized society? In a way, I felt that the ending could almost be an attack on religion, showing it as nothing more than a pretty way of viewing a world as ugly as our own. I felt that the tarpauline served as a similar symbol. It was a feeling of security, something to stand on, but underneath was the violent truth of a deadly tiger. Perhaps it was our personal sense of security which is actually just thin and flimsy. When Martel doesn't slap us with his meaning, it is quite good.
I was simply not the intended audience for this novel. However, Martel has a positive message that he wanted to reach a wide audience in hopes to spread peace to a world badly in need of it, so I cannot be too harsh on him. He achieved his goals for the novel, but his novel did not reach my goals for literature. Still, this was a fun read and I would recommend it. Just ask yourself, ‘why read?’ and if the cons of this review outweigh the pros, then this novel is not for you. But if you desire something that will entertain, broaden your horizons of spirituality if you don’t know much about various religions, or reaffirm your faith, well look no further. 3.5/5
‘ Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous possessive love that grabs at what it can.’
Here's more tigers. Because you deserve them: [image] [image] [image]...more
‘Evil grows spontaneously within men. As with maggots that spontaneously appear in rancid meat, so does evil appear in the rotting souls of men. It is‘Evil grows spontaneously within men. As with maggots that spontaneously appear in rancid meat, so does evil appear in the rotting souls of men. It is neither created nor destroyed, but it lives like a parasite moving from soul to soul.’
Set sail with Gary Anderson as he navigates the corridors of the human heart across the familiar seas of Voltaire’s masterpiece Candide. Best of All Possible Worlds, the title of which is taken from the mantra of Voltaire’s Pangloss, an unflattering caricature of Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, probes theodicy in the fashion of Voltaire and expands upon the critical scene in the classic novel when tragedy is met just off the shores of Lisbon. Anderson keeps in step with Voltaire the whole way, recreating the phallic humor and religious mockery as he illuminates the life of Jacques the Anabaptist in his own struggle with the problems of evil within ‘this best of all possible worlds.’
While this novel expands up Candide, it is in no means a prerequisite to enjoying Anderson’s undertaking. The novel functions well on it’s own merits and is entirely self contained, which allows both new readers and those familiar with Voltaire to be satisfied on this adventure. And what an adventure it is. The pace never slackens as it sails through primitive uprisings, high seas combat, pseudo-religious buffoonery, cloak-and-dagger betrayal and a wide assortment of shady undertakings. The world is painted as unfriendly and savage with violence and bitter death rearing it’s head at any and all moments. The instantaneous violence that springs up put me in the mindset of those bleak worlds crafted by Cormac McCarthy, for here too we see the that just because you have the power to doesn’t make it right to exercise your might over another’s life. For those versed in the worlds of Voltaire, however, will find a well-crafted homage to his humor and many nods to his stylistic choices.
Flowing through the novel is the omnipresent problem of evil in the world. To exemplify this, Anderson sets out creating an overarching duality to the novel. We have the brothers Jacob and Robrecht, the former having left the turmoil of sea life in order to seek stability on land while the latter whom ‘wherever he went, death was there also’. We have one soul set on stability while another exists simply to rock the boat. It seems it would be hard to find such stability, when attempts at finding peace with God lead Jacob into the folds of a misguided flock with visions of a Holy aars and his way is continuously beset by evil. Evil however, seems to flourish and pave the way to glory for those who are not incinerated by it’s touch. In a sense, evil is seen as the natural course in a supposedly perfect world.
This duality extends beyond the basics of good and evil. Through the frequent footnotes, the reader is often faced with two simultaneous stories and it often is employed to show how the events of the past and present intertwine. The flawed souls of the novel ‘loped lopsidedly into the future, destined to pay for the mistakes of its youth’. The letters and journal entries which are dispersed between each chapter serve a similar purpose as well as give insight into the actions of a character. The intertwining is used as well in the uproarious baptism scene for great effect. As the rites and rituals occur, the text fluctuates between the action at hand and snippets of prayer, showing a dual world of mortal flesh and immortal holiness as the bonds of religious fervor attempt to coil around the Jacob’s fate. The crude humor in the religious scenes create a wonderful juxtaposition of man and God as well – while they preach purity and holiness, man is shown as vile, base, and riddled with sin.
For those with a taste for adventure and bawdy humor, Anderson’s The Best of All Possible Worlds is an excellent choice. The dedication to Voltaire’s style shines through in a work that is highly humorous and satirical in it’s own right. I now have higher hopes for the modern world of novelists.
Love it or hate it, whenever someone asks if Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick is worth reading I always enthusiastically say yes you should, yes it's worthLove it or hate it, whenever someone asks if Herman Melville’s Moby-Dick is worth reading I always enthusiastically say yes you should, yes it's worth it, yes, yes like some weirdass library Molly Bloom. An epic seafaring quest—one that is a prime example of how a major theme in literature is Don’t Get on Boats (my rant on that here)—to fight the emptiness and meaninglessness of the world symbolized by the white whale. Even if we the reader may be like Cpt. Ahab trying to find our own sense of purpose in our pursuit of the novel, it is a voyage of beautiful prose worth setting out on. C’mon, who doesn’t want to hang out and possibly die horrifically with this complete fucker:
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Sure, I see how you can find the middle sections on whaling facts to be dry, but the ending of this slaps. It’s as hard hitting as a whale ramming a boat like, say, the Essex which inspired this novel (Philbrick’s In the Heart of the Sea: The Tragedy of the Whaleship Essex is an excellent read on the tragedy). If you don’t end up liking it, you aren’t alone as the reviews upon its release in 1851 are rather harsh (you can read some excerpts here) and at the time of Melville’s death it had sold only a third of what his first novel, Typee, had done, but it has since become a heralded classic with many other “classic” authors spouting praise (William Faulkner wrote ‘I wish I had written [Moby-Dick]’) and had a rise in popularity following WWI with expatriates living in 1920’s Paris describing it as ‘a sort of cunning test by which the genuineness of another man’s response to literature could be proved.’ But also it is because both Moby-Dick the novel and the symbolism of Moby Dick the whale (the title is hyphenated, the whale is not and the reason might be as much a hunt as for the whale himself), have become so analyzed and debated over and over again on the many themes such as the power of nature and the frailty of humans, the dangers of monomania and self-assuredness (some critics cite Ahab as a criticism of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s ideas of self-reliance or what Melville wrote as his ‘transcendentalisms, myths & oracular gibberish), and more. Perhaps it is partly the way Moby-Dick is interpreted as a map through the soul of the early US and its issues around race, religion and false promises, all told in a powerful prose that flows like the waves on the sea. This book has lasted for a reason and there’s likely nothing new to say about it but I’m gonna ramble at ye.
‘My favorite book is Moby-Dick. No frou-frou symbolism. Just a story of a man who hates an animal. And that's enough.’ -Ron Swanson, Parks and Recreation
Greil Marcus has said that Moby Dick has lasted as ‘the sea we swim in.’ It has been a staple of pop culture for a long time, and likely still long to come. In music Moby Dick gave us that epic John Bonham drum solo, that Umphrey’s McGee jam, or even Melville’s great-great-great-musician nephew, Moby, who acted a dick towards Natalie Portman. Bob Dylan went on about the book in his Nobel Lecture and references it in many of his songs.The character’s became code names for The Baader-Meinhof Gang in prison (ironically, Moby Dick was their code for the State which, like in the book, outlived them all) and the doom-fated character Starbuck’s namesake has become a major coffee chain and a character in Battlestar Galactica. It has been many films, and film references, such as the other whaling ship, Rosebud, being a key name in Orson Welle’s Citizen Kane (he would attempt, but never finish a 1971 film adaptation). The coffin surfacing in the flood in O Brother, Where Art Thou? is a direct reference, and recently there was a whole scene as a blatant allusion to the book in the second Avatar film. It was also a major source for Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan (1982), with Khan going to his death quoting the book: ‘From Hell’s heart, I stab at thee… for hate’s sake, I spit my last breath at thee…’
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Gregory Peck as Ahab in John Huston’s 1956 Moby Dick film, with a screenplay written by Ray Bradbury
While pop culture is full of references to Moby-Dick, the novel itself is overflowing with allusions to other great works of literature. Ahab himself is often argued to be a composite reference to Oedipus, Narcissus, Prometheus and his biblical namesake. Ahab—who is temporarily afflicted—comes across the head of a sperm whale hanging from the ship (‘it seemed the Sphynx’s in the desert’) and demand of it ‘tell us the secret thing that is in thee,’ a pretty on-the-nose reference to Oedipus (also he frequently uses his spear as a crutch and to murder whales, not unlike Oedipus murdering his own father with his walking stick). Also the whole prophecy thing that occurs to Oedipus and Ahab, because the two chariots that will lead to his death bit is pretty excellent when it comes about. The tale of Narcissus is directly referenced in the first chapter and foreshadows Ahab’s own fate, failing to see that the evil he sees in the whale is a ‘wildly projected’ image of himself (well and the whole drowning aspect). The Prometheus bits are my favorite though, with Ahab often associated with fire such as his flaming spear and, with respect to him symbolizing the white whale as a god of sorts, stealing from the whales the oil for fire (for which he was punished). King Ahab was punished for worshiping false gods (whales as gods again).
But I want to get back to Prometheus for a moment because I have my own Prometheus confession. Silence please. Well…when I was at the university, having little or no money in my purse, and nothing particular to interest me on shore, I thought I would go the the Barnes and Noble and see the literary part of the world. I was interested in Moby-Dick, but like, whew, should I spend my money on a book? Just then there was a big flash of lightning, a store shaking crash, and we were plunged into darkness as the power went out. People screamed, I ran outside to see the storm, to see the powerline that had been struck, “only to realize” I had “accidentally” (emphasizing the air-quotes while scanning the room for who might be a cop) left with Moby-Dick still in hand under the cover of dark. I’M NOT PROUD OF IT, OKAY (im gonna be real with you—not that bad, honestly) but it had pictures and I did read it all rather quickly sitting under a bridge off campus by the river (would recommend reading this in your early 20s when you A. are old enough to get a lot of it, B. have disposable time to read in big chunks and C. an attention span). Anyways, like Prometheus, I would later find myself chained to a rock AKA the customer service desk of a different Barnes and Noble for several years to be pecked at daily by customers and management alike. They didn’t have to bother with my liver, my good friend alcohol was ravishing that enough on its own. SO I GOT MINE, everyone can back off now.
But this book is just teeming with symbolism and themes. When Bob Dylan delivered his Nobel Lecture, he spoke on how this was one of three books that really shaped him ‘and the themes from those books worked their way into many of my songs either knowingly or unintentionally.’ One of the themes I frequently discussed with a coworker when she read this last year was the representation of race. She pointed out there are some problematic issues but how it’s interesting to remember this book was pretty progressive at its time. We see racism as a major sin, such as the ship, The Pequod, taking it’s name from an indigenous tribe in Massachusetts that perished under the arrival of Europeans and thus makes the Pequod a symbol of death and doom (*jazz hands* fooooooreshadowinggggg!). Melville has often referred to the novel as an allegory, and one prevailing interpretation with critics is that it functions as an allegory for te racial relations around slavery that would lead to the Civil War. Melville lets us know he’s not down with slavery, such as when Pip realizes the price of a dead whale is significantly more than his own price as a living slave and promptly has a mental breakdown. It should be noted that Ishmael’s close friendship with Queequeg (it could be argued it pushes towards the erotic) is highly subversive and the latter fellow and his skills are a critique on the belief of white superiority.
‘There is no folly of the beast of the earth which is not infinitely outdone by the madness of man,’ states Ahab, and many interpretations of the novel focus on the whale as an evil. I believe Ahab sees Moby Dick this way (a projection, as previously mentioned), and we can certainly view this story as an expression of the fragility of humans in the face of the awesome power of nature. Don’t fuck with nature, it’s going to win. However, so much of this is wrapped up in an investigation of applying meaning, applying symbols and needing purpose in the terrifying face of meaninglessness. The white whale (based on a similar ship-killer whale named Mocha Dick) is no accident, with white often believed to be an absence of color and calling to mind a cold, apathetic nothingness. It is a lack of good or evil, and Ahab is falsely applying evil here, trying to create a destiny and fight against a perceived villain to be the main character hero of his own invention. We also see this all as humans defenselessness against fate. Whales are big, don’t mess with them. You’ll see…
Okay, I’ve spun quite the yarn here and really, just give this a go. Even if you don’t like it, it’s still pretty cool to say you’ve read it. And there are SO many amazing scenes, I promise. Like, okay, I can’t talk about this book without mentioning when Ahab makes everyone do shots out of the cavities in their spears. And that ending. It’s wild. It’s a big book, it’s full of themes and complex symbolism and tons of literary allusions and it may rock you like a ship upon stormy seas, but it’s worth the voyage. And, hey, at least you can read about whales noshing on sailors, that’s pretty fun.
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