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4 Hawthorne Literature- A to Z

Life of Pi

by

Life of Pi Cover

 

 

Excerpt

CHAPTER 1

My suffering left me sad and gloomy.

Academic study and the steady, mindful practice of religion slowly brought me back to life. I have remained a faithful Hindu, Christian and Muslim. I decided to stay in Toronto. After one year of high school, I attended the University of Toronto and took a double-major Bachelor's degree. My majors were religious studies and zoology. My fourth-year thesis for religious studies concerned certain aspects of the cosmogony theory of Isaac Luria, the great sixteenth-century Kabbalist from Safed. My zoology thesis was a functional analysis of the thyroid gland of the three-toed sloth. I chose the sloth because its demeanour-calm, quiet and introspective-did something to soothe my shattered self.

There are two-toed sloths and there are three-toed sloths, the case being determined by the forepaws of the animals, since all sloths have three claws on their hind paws. I had the great luck one summer of studying the three-toed sloth in situ in the equatorial jungles of Brazil. It is a highly intriguing creature. Its only real habit is indolence. It sleeps or rests on average twenty hours a day. Our team tested the sleep habits of five wild three-toed sloths by placing on their heads, in the early evening after they had fallen asleep, bright red plastic dishes filled with water. We found them still in place late the next morning, the water of the dishes swarming with insects. The sloth is at its busiest at sunset, using the word busy here in a 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. On a scale of 2 to 10, where 2 represents unusual dullness and 10 extreme acuity, Beebe (1926) gave the sloth's senses of taste, touch, sight and hearing a rating of 2, and its sense of smell a rating of 3. 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. As for hearing, the sloth is not so much deaf as uninterested in sound. Beebe reported that firing guns next to sleeping or feeding sloths elicited little reaction. And the sloth's slightly better sense of smell should not be overestimated. 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. "A good-natured smile is forever on its lips," reported Tirler (1966). I have seen that smile with my own eyes. 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. A number of my fellow religious-studies students-muddled agnostics who didn't know which way was up, in the thrall of reason, that fool's gold for the bright-reminded me of the three-toed sloth; and the three-toed sloth, such a beautiful example of the miracle of life, reminded me of God.

I never had problems with my fellow scientists. Scientists are a friendly, atheistic, hard-working, beer-drinking lot whose minds are preoccupied with sex, chess and baseball when they are not preoccupied with science.

I was a very good student, if I may say so myself. I was tops at St. Michael's College four years in a row. I got every possible student award from the Department of Zoology. If I got none from the Department of Religious Studies, it is simply because there are no student awards in this department (the rewards of religious study are not in mortal hands, we all know that). I would have received the Governor General's Academic Medal, the University of Toronto's highest undergraduate award, of which no small number of illustrious Canadians have been recipients, were it not for a beef-eating pink boy with a neck like a tree trunk and a temperament of unbearable good cheer.

I still smart a little at the slight. When you've suffered a great deal in life, each additional pain is both unbearable and trifling. My life is like a memento mori painting from European art: there is always a grinning skull at my side to remind me of the folly of human ambition. I mock this skull. I look at it and I say, "You've got the wrong fellow. You may not believe in life, but I don't believe in death. Move on!" The skull snickers and moves ever closer, but that doesn't surprise me. The reason death sticks so closely to life isn't biological necessity-it's envy. Life is so beautiful that death has fallen in love with it, a jealous, possessive love that grabs at what it can. But life leaps over oblivion lightly, losing only a thing or two of no importance, and gloom is but the passing shadow of a cloud. The pink boy also got the nod from the Rhodes Scholarship committee. I love him and I hope his time at Oxford was a rich experience. If Lakshmi, goddess of wealth, one day favours me bountifully, Oxford is fifth on the list of cities I would like to visit before I pass on, after Mecca, Varanasi, Jerusalem and Paris.

I have nothing to say of my working life, only that a tie is a noose, and inverted though it is, it will hang a man nonetheless if he's not careful.

I love Canada. I miss the heat of India, the food, the house lizards on the walls, the musicals on the silver screen, the cows wandering the streets, the crows cawing, even the talk of cricket matches, but I love Canada. It is a great country much too cold for good sense, inhabited by compassionate, intelligent people with bad hairdos. Anyway, I have nothing to go home to in Pondicherry.

Richard Parker has stayed with me. I've never forgotten him. Dare I say I miss him? I do. I miss him. I still see him in my dreams. They are nightmares mostly, but nightmares tinged with love. Such is the strangeness of the human heart. I still cannot understand how he could abandon me so unceremoniously, without any sort of goodbye, without looking back even once. That pain is like an axe that chops at my heart.

The doctors and nurses at the hospital in Mexico were incredibly kind to me. And the patients, too. Victims of cancer or car accidents, once they heard my story, they hobbled and wheeled over to see me, they and their families, though none of them spoke English and I spoke no Spanish. They smiled at me, shook my hand, patted me on the head, left gifts of food and clothing on my bed. They moved me to uncontrollable fits of laughing and crying.

Within a couple of days I could stand, even make two, three steps, despite nausea, dizziness and general weakness. Blood tests revealed that I was anemic, and that my level of sodium was very high and my potassium low. My body retained fluids and my legs swelled up tremendously. I looked as if I had been grafted with a pair of elephant legs. My urine was a deep, dark yellow going on to brown. After a week or so, I could walk just about normally and I could wear shoes if I didn't lace them up. My skin healed, though I still have scars on my shoulders and back.

The first time I turned a tap on, its noisy, wasteful, superabundant gush was such a shock that I became incoherent and my legs collapsed beneath me and I fainted in the arms of a nurse.

The first time I went to an Indian restaurant in Canada I used my fingers. The waiter looked at me critically and said, "Fresh off the boat, are you?" I blanched. My fingers, which a second before had been taste buds savouring the food a little ahead of my mouth, became dirty under his gaze. They froze like criminals caught in the act. I didn't dare lick them. I wiped them guiltily on my napkin. He had no idea how deeply those words wounded me. They were like nails being driven into my flesh. I picked up the knife and fork. I had hardly ever used such instruments. My hands trembled. My sambar lost its taste.

Copyright © 2001 by Yann Martel

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced

or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical,

including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and

retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Requests for permission to make copies of any part of the work

should be mailed to the following address: Permissions Department,

Harcourt, Inc., 6277 Sea Harbor Drive, Orlando, Florida 32887-6777.

www.HarcourtBooks.com

What Our Readers Are Saying

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Average customer rating based on 16 comments:

Audrey Longson, March 18, 2013 (view all comments by Audrey Longson)
Loved this book! I haven't been this moved by a novel in quite a while. I found it to be a stunning exploration of animal nature, faith, and what the human psyche is capable of in the face of extreme trauma. If you enjoyed the movie you must read the book!
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skylerhawkins95, December 5, 2011 (view all comments by skylerhawkins95)
Pi Patel is an all loving boy when it comes to God. Pi is very special when it comes to his faith, because he not only believes in one faith but three Christianity, Hinduism, and Islam. The reason he believes in all 3 of these religions, because as a boy he was pressured into which one to choose. Therefore instead of choosing one, he chose all 3 religions. Not only did Pi love God, but also his mother, father, and brother. His father owned a zoo in India which his family loves and adores, but with the inhumane people that abuse the animals, they have no choice but to move to North America. The Patel family gathered each other up along with the animals, and set sail on a Japanese cargo ship headed to Canada. While on the ship, Pi falls into a deep sleep and wakes up to the ship sinking along with confusing noises. He sleepily goes about the deserted boat trying to find someone. He goes outside to find crew members, and he is instantly thrown onto a lifeboat. Soon enough Pi finds himself with companions on the lifeboat including: a zebra, an orangutan, a zebra, and a humungous Bengal tiger. When the tiger has devoured everything but Pi, he must train the beast and use the survival skills he has learned in his past. The big question is will his survival skills be enough to survive the trials to come? Pi's only chance of surviving is not only training the tiger, but also finding a way to keep the predator away from himself. He will have to learn to fish, make fresh water, and most importantly find land. There is not only a predator on the boat, but also in the unknown waters below him. This novel will keep you intrigued until the very end, and sparks a great fealing of faith in your heart. -Matthew B.
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pumer1313, December 5, 2011 (view all comments by pumer1313)
Piscine Molitor Patel otherwise known as Pi Patel is from India. He had grown up in the city of Pondicherry and had many view on religion and couldn’t make up his mind to which one he liked. His parents finally got tired of his lack of decision making and had in mind to move to Canada. In India his dad had owned a zoo and couldn’t just leave his animals. He decided to sell his animals and the only people to take them were zookeepers in America. The only way he could transport the animals was by freighter across the Pacific. While on the boat he hears strange noises and finds himself frantically searching the ship for an exit. In the meantime tries to run back down the stairs to his family but is stopped by a wall of water. The boat was sinking! He runs to some crew members and is thrown into a life boat. What he doesn’t know is that it is more than just him in that boat. The crew members try to warn him but before he can do anything he is too far away from the sinking boat. He saw a tiger whose name was Richard Parker and helped on the boat without thinking. He finds himself going into a deep sleep which he will never get again for the rest of his survival. When he wakes up he finds a zebra and a hyena on the life boat with him. He also sees an orangutan floating on a huge pile of bananas and also pulls him on board. The hyena ends up killing the zebra and the orangutan. He knew that he was next to be killed by the hyena when Richard Parker wakes up and kills the hyena. From there on they live on the life boat for 227 days. They find an island that was carnivorous, went through a time without food, and ends up living with the tiger the whole time.
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Product Details

ISBN:
9780156030205
Subtitle:
Student Edition
Author:
Martel, Yann
Publisher:
Mariner Books
Subject:
Literary
Subject:
Action & Adventure
Subject:
Children's 12-Up - Fiction - General
Subject:
Religious - General
Subject:
General Fiction
Subject:
General Juvenile Fiction
Subject:
Popular Fiction - Adventure
Copyright:
Edition Description:
Trade Paper
Publication Date:
20040503
Binding:
Paperback
Grade Level:
from 9 to 12
Language:
English
Pages:
420
Dimensions:
6.88 x 4.19 in
Age Level:
13-17

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Life of Pi Used Mass Market
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Product details 420 pages Harvest Books - English 9780156030205 Reviews:
"Review" by , "This breezily aphoristic, unapologetically twee saga of man and cat is a convincing hands-on, how-to guide for dealing with what Pi calls, with typically understated brio, 'major lifeboat pests.'"
"Review" by , "A work of wonder....[T]he kind of twist-and-turns spellbinder that's almost impossible to forget."
"Review" by , "Martel's Life of Pi might sound ridiculous, but by the time Martel throws Pi out to sea, his quirkily magical and often hilarious vision has already taken hold....Martel is so mesmerized by Pi that one can't help but be enchanted too....Pi's lost-at-sea story never drags. The slow journey is spiked with fascinating survival scenes....Pi's story is so extraordinary that when he finally makes it ashore, he offers a comparatively boring version of the tale to two researchers, acknowledging that humans don't have much of a taste for the miraculous. This played-down version makes Pi's true tale, thanks to Martel's beautifully fantastical and spirited rendering, all the more tempting to believe."
"Synopsis" by , When his ship sinks, a teen emigrating with his family from India to North America finds himself alone in a lifeboat — his only companions a hyena, an orangutan, a wounded zebra, and Richard Parker, a 450-pound Bengal tiger.
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