Tuesday, December 13, 2011

Third Response To Life Of Pi

In the course of thirty pages, the sad tale I've been reading takes on a new and even more tragic layer of meaning when Pi reveals another version, one in which the animals are replaced by humans. Once we learn this, we immediately assume that Pi has probably made up the animal version as a way to cope with extreme tragedy. The beautiful, noble zebra represents the exotic Chinese sailor. The gutless, violent, ugly hyena embodies all the revolting qualities of the greedy, cowardly cook. The maternal orangutan, with her vaguely human body and mannerisms, represents Pi’s own mother. And the tiger is Pi himself, alternately vicious, passive, watchful, ravenous, self-contained, tamed, and feral. Both versions of the story—with and without animals—are viable, and Pi never tells us definitively which tale is true. Still, Pi seems to confess in these last chapters that he has made up his entire story as a way to cope with a shocking series of events. Only storytelling has the power to rescue him and deliver him from the absolute depths of despair.

Martel tweaks the traditional rendering of animals in children’s tales to strengthen Pi’s original story and to illustrate the similarities between humans and animals. Fables and children’s stories regularly make use of anthropomorphized (love that word!) animal characters. However, in Life of Pi, the animals are drawn realistically and behave in ways that are true to their species. In this way, Martel enables the protagonist, Pi, to make a strong case for the believability of his Richard Parker account—something that would not be possible if, for example, Richard Parker were a talking tiger or a tiger that magically turns, against his very nature, into Pi’s best friend. Furthermore, he drives home the point that we humans are not so different from animals after all. Deprived of the luxuries and conveniences we have built up for ourselves in modern times, we resort to our basic instincts and animalistic roots. So really, in the end, we're all animals waiting to be unleashed from our cages.

Part Three provides the most important phrase of the novel:“the better story.” With those three words, we come to understand that this is a book about how we choose what to believe and how we come to grips with a reality that is often more horrible that we can stand. In other words, as Pi reveals to us and to his two interviewers, the human capacity for imagination and invention is a mechanism for self-preservation. Pi is conscious that he has two stories to offer us: one with animals and one without. He is also aware that the one with animals is the more enjoyable of the two, the version that we, his audience, would much rather remember. The story with the Bengal tiger is farfetched but engaging, even charming. The version with the cannibalistic cook and the death of Pi’s mother, on the other hand, is heartbreaking and extremely upsetting. It reveals the underlying ferocity of our animal nature, something that we humans do not like to know about ourselves.

The entire premise of this novel is to question what the reader believes: faith or science? I am a science person, myself. I know that I live in the Bible Belt. I know that I would be shunned by many people if they knew I'd even questioned the existence of a god. But honestly, there are people dying right now of starvation and violence, as I sit it my comfortable and warm bed typing this. What kind of god would allow that to happen to his CHILDREN? Why do I have a warm home, clothes, and 3 meals a day, while others are happy to find decent scraps in the garbage? I want to have faith in a higher power. I want to believe that there is something greater than me at work in this world. But right now, I feel like I'm on my own version of Pi's floating island, with no intentions of getting off until something worth-while happens.

Second Response To Life Of Pi

Alone and grief stricken without his family or any other human survivors, Pi finds both solace and sadness in the presence of Orange Juice. He notices that Orange Juice seems to be having some very human reactions to her predicament: she looks queasy and seasick, holding herself up at the edge of the lifeboat like a nauseated person might. More significantly, she looks out at the open water in a way that Pi instantly recognizes as both hopeful (awaiting the appearance of her two sons) and hopeless (not really expecting them to appear after all). Though comforted by Orange Juice’s humanlike demeanor, Pi is also saddened by their common bond—their loss of family.

As I read this book, I'm constantly thinking about what I would do in a situation like this. I'm not close with my family, nor am I particularly fond of them (I know that sounds horrid), but if I saw one of my family members being eaten or slaughtered, I would probably lose what few marbles I have left in my scrambled mind. It would be hell to witness something with such helplessness.

The movement of Pi and Richard Parker toward one another, the literal lessening of physical distance, underscores a message that Martel will amplify over the course of the novel: animals and humans aren’t such different creatures after all. Earlier in the novel Pi says that omega animals (such as Richard Parker) will often be obedient to a human trainer in an effort to climb up the social hierarchy, tolerating what they perceive as the human alpha creature’s odd demands. In essence, they mimic human behavior in the same way that Pi, out of respect for Richard Parker, mimics the tiger. It is significant, too, that the tiger bears a man’s name, while Pi could be a shortened form of the word pisces, or fish. Martel has built zoomorphic ambiguity right into their names, pointing out quite strongly the gray area between humanity and animal nature. Is 'humanity' even real? Is being humane even attainable in this era of time? Because the more I get to know people, the more I dislike them. People are selfish. Cruel. Pi's realization is spot on-- humans are animals.

The odd natural phenomena Pi encounters illustrate his inner struggles. The floating island symbolizes Pi’s own despair. As Pi notes, it would not have killed him immediately had he stayed; rather, it would have eaten away at his soul, deadening his spirit and causing a numbing hopelessness. The carnivorous vegetation represents Pi’s pessimism, his dwindling hope that he will ever be found. To stay on the island would be to give up, to decide to end his days on a man-eating island rather than in civilization. Pi’s choice to leave the island and get back into the ocean is his way of remaining optimistic, however minutely, about his odds of salvation. It is my opinion that this floating island was Pi receeding into his mind, into the depths of his fears. And I cannot say that I blame him. I'm already pessimistic enough; I can't imagine retaining any hope if I was to find myself in a situation like that.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Life of Pi-- First Response

     I don't know that I've ever had such a hard time getting through the first 100 pages of a book. I really don't understand. Why would any author make the initial impression of their book so... well, boring? I get that it has to do with character development, but thus far, Pi strikes me as just uninteresting. Frankly, I don't know how this novel can reach a climax at this rate. "Dry, yeastless factuality" seems appropriate.
     One thing I did find interesting was the fact that Pi has a respect for atheists, but not for agnostics. It seems to be an all-or-nothing perspective. People with faith are worthy of his time, but people that are uncertain about faith and god and what-not are repulsive to him. I understand where he's coming from, but really, it's not of his business what other people choose to believe or have faith in. And yet, Pi is involved in three religions, simultaneously. Doesn't that contradict the whole premise of religion, though?
     My overall impression of the novel so far isn't really a positive one. Typically, I like books to grip my attention from the beginning; if they mellow out in the middle, I can handle it. But if I can fall asleep during the first 100 pages of a book, I don't see the point in reading it. Hopefully, within the next 50 pages, things will pick up a bit.

Sunday, October 23, 2011

Second Response to The Great Gatsby

Well, I can't say I didn't see most of the events that took place coming. And yet, it still came as a shock. I didn't realize how attached I'd become to Gatsby. When Nick described how unloved and already-forgotten Gastby was, it broke my heart. On the plus side, though, Nick earned a lot of respect from me in the end, with the way he stood up for Gatsby and took care of everything.
If you put me in a teleporter into the 20s, I would hate it. I wouldn't be able to handle the people, how fake and selfish they are. The lies, deciet, etc. They put so much focus on "The American Dream" but it's really just a hoax. I mean, look what happened to Gatsby: He chased his idea of the American Dream and it was ultimately his demise.
I can't quite put my finger on what I got out of this book. I didn't particularly enjoy it, but I did learn a lot. More than anything, this novel reinforced the notion that consuming your life around materialism is not a good idea, because people can always lose everything material they have. However, if you center your life around your intelligence, real bonds with people, etc., you can never truly lose everything. The only person who has the power to take that away from you is yourself.

First Response to The Great Gatsby

Well, up until now, nothing very interesting has happened. However, at least we all know why Gatsby is so extravagant-- it's all part of his plan to get Daisy back. He obviously wants to show her what she's missing by being with Tom.
Honestly, I'm not a fan of Nick. He's boring, and comes across as apathetic. It's almost as if he's just a medium for information, there, but not very consciously-present. I get that this is to show how people thought in the 20s, but it's made the book incredibly boring for me thus far.
I don't know what to think about Daisy and Jordan. Jordan is a compulsive liar, which annoys me more than anything, and yet, there's something appealing about her character. I can't put my finger on is. However, there is a sense that she may be a lesbian, just by Fitzgerald's description of her and how she doesn't date men often. I also get the feeling that Nick might have a thing for Gatsby, but I can't tell whether or not he just admires him or if he really does have a romantic interest. Nick goes on a date with Jordan at the end of this section, and it appears that he has strong feelings for her, but I wonder if he's just fascinated by her and is mistaking it for love?  We'll find out.

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Response To Part Two Of Fahrenheit 451

The theme of self-destruction is prominent through 'The Sieve and the Sand'. We come to know Mildred through the eyes of her husband as, "a wax doll melting in its own heat." By using the familiar images of heat and fire, Bradbury presents Mildred as igniting her own self destruction by choosing to ignore and abandon reality rather than seek out truth, as her husband aspires to do. And, despite his intentions, we watch Montag display a self-destructive streak when he insists, despite Faber's insistent advice to stay quiet, on engaging Mildred and her friends by reading poetry to them. The theme of self-destruction is also visited during Montag and Faber's initial conversation in Faber's apartment, when Faber speaks of the proposed plot to undermine the authority of firemen by planting books in their homes by saying, "the salamander devours its tail." I loved that quote; it stands for so many different things, has so many implications.
At work, Montag deals with a bombardment of quotes from Beatty, degrading books and their intellectual value. Meanwhile, Faber speaks in Montag's ear via radio, urging him to bite his tongue and not to accept Beatty's arguments. This scene, in which we can almost picture the angel Faber and the devil Beatty competing for Montag's sympathy and attention, illustrates the ongoing struggle between good and evil that has, until now, been building in Montag's mind.
In keeping with its frazzled tone, 'The Sieve and the Sand' ends in a climax: the arrival of the firemen at Montag's house. At this point, Montag is void of his former life. Because he deviated from the norm, choosing books and truth over the illusion of happiness he once embraced, Montag will lose his home and livelihood. But it is my hope and belief that he will find redemption, as well as the lifestyle he desires, so long as he isn't killed in Part 3.

Friday, September 23, 2011

Response To Part Three Of Fahrenheit 451

Wow. What an ending. I can't say I didn't see some of it coming, but I didn't expect this book to end on a bright note. I earned a new respect for Montag during the last 50 pages. I thought burning his boss was a little unnecessary, but I'm not unable to understand why he did it. However, my loathing for Mildred still stands. She turned her own husband in, put him in the position of burning THEIR house and/or being killed. She is one of the most hopeless characters I have ever read about.
I like what this book stands for: redemption, perseverance, devotion, dreams, individuality, the influence of technology, and the importance of intellect. I've found that it's hard to find books that are bold enough to write about societies such as the one depicted in 451. I'm sure they're out there, I just have yet to find them. Therefore, I have a very intense respect for this book and what it represents.
There are parallels that can be drawn between 451 and modern society. It is true that, through technology, people appear to be detaching themselves emotionally. On video games, people shoot each other, run over people, and it amuses them. That's a scary thought.
If I were to be a character in this novel, I think I would have been Clarisse. I would have been that girl that was different-- whose mind did not comform to the society she lived in. More than any other event in the book, Clarisse's death sent a wave of sorrow through my heart. For me, she was a symbol of hope, a light at the end of the tunnel. Who is the symbol of hope for modern society? I do not have an answer. However, I will say that I will strive to be the Clarisse of my society, minus getting brutally run over by kids hoping to cause injury for sport.