Life of Pi by Yann Martel

What a breath of fresh air this book was after the last!  Although I’ve got to admit when trying to recount the story to my mum and sister they were practically rolling around laughing at the seemingly ludicrous storyline, however, the power of the writing by Martel was so intense and deep-reaching that it totally swept me up.

The protagonist Piscine’s (aka Pi) world is established proficiently with humour and insight into this experience of living in close proximity to animals as his father is a zookeeper.  There is a good argument made for the role of zoos and messages about how humans are the most dangerous animals on the planet, in addition to an openness to the practice of Hinduism, Islam and Christianity.  The book has a wide-ranging scope touching on philosophical points and their applications to life, but happily avoids preaching any particular message.

Then comes the drama, as Pi’s family decides to emigrate to Canada with an assortment of their traded zoo’s animals on board a cargo ship en route to various destinations, the ship sinks with a select band of castaways surviving in a lifeboat.  The subsequent tale is fascinating and the storytelling maintains a tense and enthralling atmosphere conveying the desperation of the situation.  But really it’s the internal battles played out in the loneliness of Pi’s mind that explores the depths of what it means to be alive.  There is an excellent description of how fear can overwhelm a person, which is most articulate in its perceptive analysis of what anybody has experienced, despite the extraordinary setting of the story. 

This book works on so many levels it is magnificent and you think you are challenging your mind throughout, but in the last few pages it still manages to expertly snatch the rug from under your feet!  It was such an insight into human survival and what happens when people are pushed to their limits, which transforms what could have been a monotonous, harrowing story into one of thrilling originality and compassion.

Oscar and Lucinda by Peter Carey

I am in slight disbelief in seeing this book along with ‘The Ghost Road’ on the 2008 Best of the Bookers shortlist.  And doing some research, as I feel obliged to do when I read a Booker that not only doesn’t seem to be up to the general standard, but I have actively come to dislike, I was surprised to find that this is generally a very popular love story.

Suffice to say I did not feel the love; in fact I was incredibly glad to finish this one!  Initially it was taking me a little while to get through, as it had not managed to hook me with its characters or story.  So I decided I would give it a good go and try to immerse myself in its pages, but unfortunately this resulted in my feeling rather disgruntled for two days.  This could have been just a coincidence - I may have been bad-tempered regardless of the book, but I’ve got to say my lasting impression of ‘Oscar and Lucinda’, the first of two Booker winning novels for author Peter Carey, is one of annoyance.  Annoyance with the characters, the story, the setting, the writing…it was all rather unsatisfying.

The characters’ inner dialogues, although initially insightful and beneficial for character development, soon became rambling, especially when going off on a tangent into the lives of minor characters.  The descriptions were interminable and dreary, almost trying to be Dickensian in their depth but failing miserably with none of the balance of light and dark executed by Dickens.  The story was a bit ridiculous with such setups and repetition of scenarios and dilemmas that it dragged.  I felt so exasperated by the characters and their predicaments, that I wanted to shout at them and make them all see sense and move on.

On a more positive note, the story does convey the frustrations of being a women in a man’s world of industry before equal opportunities, as Lucinda, left with a large fortune, purchases a glass factory and despite her financial might does not fit in.  Moreover, the impatience I felt with the characters was in part a result of social niceties stifling interactions and ultimately resulting in a preposterous journey that the hero ends up making into New South Wales.  With a church made out of glass in tow to prove his love, everything, despite the best intentions, worked out for the worst.  Although I can appreciate the book’s insight into how chance versus destiny can shape lives there is such over-emphasis of this theme that it also becomes dull and ironically rather predicable. The characters demonstrate the weaknesses of humans which contrast with the high expectations derived from society and religion, but it does it all so heavy-handedly with no finesse that it leaves one feeling hopeless and irritated.