Personal Reflection: Imagination not dead; liberated.

I realized early on in this project that my choice of novel was a little different from many other's, whose choices involved cornerstone classics of Canlit and intimidating names such as Atwood, Findley, and Ondaatje. Life of Pi does not have the seniority of a 'classic', nor does its author Yann Martel have a particularly auspicious resumé of novels. However, he is in fact a quarky student of philosophy with a slightly twisted sense of humour. I can offer no better explanation for this novel's appeal to me.

I knew that if a novel were to have any hope in heaven of capturing my attention for two months, it would have to be off-the-wall, refreshingly engaging, and full of zeal. I found these and more in Life of Pi. Martel illustrates many, perhaps hundreds of realities pertaining to the human condition under duress through his main character Pi, but does so in a way that is utterly unpretentious and unassuming, yet deceptively profound. On the cover of my copy is a quotation from Atwood herself: "It's fresh, original, smart, devious, and crammed with absorbing lore." It's the 'absorbing lore' part that is so deceptive in such a 'light' narrative tone, but it's also what makes it so much fun to wrestle with!

That is the verb I would use to describe the way Martel forced me to consider Life of Pi: wrestle. It took a great deal of scribbling, rereading, head-scratching and flow-chart drawing, but eventually I felt that I was able to pin it at least part of it down in a headlock. The results of this were my explication and apologia. But I owe much of my success to the format of this project. Not only did it provide a stylish medium for organizing scribbled ideas, but it yielded some incredibly valuable peer commentary that ensured my thinking wouldn't become stagnant.

The availability of changeable, arrangeable blog entries meant that I could freely enjoy the process of exploring and understanding Life of Pi and the problems it presented to me. It brusquely challenged the way I consider elements of fiction and, more importantly, some very personal (and up until now steadfast) philosophies regarding faith, religion, happiness, the useful application of fact, and the treatment of zoo animals.

In this fashion did Martel play with me a brutally one-sided game of Truth or Dare. And how could I not oblige when Pi affirms his own faith in the face of the Pacific Ocean and a Bengal tiger whilst I struggle with my own turbulent thoughts in the comfort of my squishy living room chair!?

Life of Pi has taught me to be curious, to dissect bits of my own thinking that would rather be left alone, and to stick my nose in places it normally wouldn't go; much the same way that a writer might go about highlighting a truth through a work of fiction. Reading and writing cannot be contained. They cannot be tamed. They cannot be trained. It is through this realization that we liberate our own imaginations from the bonds of literal interpretation and monotonous explanation. As the truths of the human condition are infinite, so are the potential illustrations of it through all art forms.

"If we citizens, do not support our artists, then we sacrifice our imagination on the altar of crude reality and we end up believing in nothing and having worthless dreams."

(Yann Martel, Life of Pi, Author's Note, xi)