oh the places we will go....

I'm very bad at following through on anything, I realize. I was supposed to have written a bunch of posts within the space of two weeks and here I am with only one to my credit. Since I'm sitting around the house waiting for my wisdom teeth holes to heal, I'll write about a book I didn't particularly like (re: hated): 'Life Of Pi'. Warning: what follows is a bitter, pathetic rant written by a very sad man. Reader discretion is advised.
Life Of Pi
This is the tale of a young Indian boy by the name of Pi whose family works at a zoo. His family isn't at all religious, but he's a very inquisitive boy full of curiosity and wonder which leads him to becoming a member of, not one, but three major religions (Hindu, Christianity, Islam). Due to political and economic issues (this is India in the 70's, so I'm assuming things were not peachy-creme wonderful) his dad decides to sell the animals and move the whole family to Canada. They and all the animals get on a boat and begin the long journey across the Pacific Ocean. But for some unknown reason, the boat sinks, killing everyone aboard except for poor Pi and a tiger who end up together on a lifeboat. Pi must learn to keep the tiger happy and fed to prevent himself from being killed and/or eaten. What a setup!*

What follows is supposed to be a riveting tale of survival, faith, and introspection. Too bad I thought it was total sucking crap. Maybe that's being too harsh. Let me elaborate: 'Life Of Pi' is a young adult book that can't decide whether it's supposed to writing for teens or children. The prose switches from extremely elaborate and verbose to simple and childlike. It seems like this book wouldn't really be able to capture a child's short attention span but neither would it be able to pique the interest of a literary teen. Nor would it be able to entertain a twentysomething reader by the name of Luke out for a good read.

But a little identity crisis is no reason to hate a piece of entertainment. 'District 9' was my favorite movie of '09; 'Bioshock' is one of my favorite games of all time; and I even love the ever-ephemeral David Bowie, crazy chameleon that he is. The real reason I have a bone to pick with 'Life Of Pi' boils down to the fact that it's bad. Just plain bad. The writing is uninspired and bloated; I can't tell you how many times I thought yet another scene of Pi's survival (catching fish, shielding himself from rain, keeping the tiger happy) dragged on way too long, kind of like my posts. I just wanted to shout, 'Okay, I know it's hard being on a lifeboat in the middle of nowhere with a tiger, and now you have to kill a turtle and eat it, boo-hoo. I DON'T CARE! MOVE ALONG!!!' And I actually did shout that quite a few times, which explains all the raised eyebrows and worrisome looks I got from my classmates and co-workers. The point is this book suffers from the same problem Roseanne Barr has has when she steps up to the buffet: it doesn't know when enough is enough. I never, never skim when I'm reading no matter how wordy the writing gets (and that includes the classic writers, like Dostoevsky and Hugo) but in this particular case the writing was so bad and the character so insufferable that I found myself skipping lines, then paragraphs, then entire chapters just so I wouldn't have to spend any more time with this crap. Good God.

And that's another thing, why did Mr. Martel create such an exceedingly annoying character, then tell the story from his perspective, and then make him the only human character for %85 of the book. What the hell was he thinking? Pi's supposed to be this wonderful little boy full of hope and imagination who wants to come closer to God in any way he can, so why did I find him annoying as hell? He never shuts up, he never stops whining, and he never thinks that whatever he's thinking isn't revelatory in some way or another, despite the fact he has nothing of interest to actually say. I wanted to strangle little Pi by page 5 so you can imagine my how murderous I was feeling by the end of this 200-plus crapfest. And the "humor" (make air-quotes with your fingers while reading that) is anything but. I've laughed more at funerals.

And let's get to the final complaint I will lodge against this book: its own damn self-righteousness. See, this book isn't content with just being a young-adult book; it's a life-changing book. Yann Martel is here to blow your mind and your soul, make you question existence and believe in God, make you WONDER and THINK FOR YOURSELF. You can practically see Mr. Martel smiling to himself while he writes this, saying 'Man, this is so original and unique and is going to be one of the greatest books ever. A character who believes in three religions simultaneously? How amazing is that. God, I'm awesome.' Crap almighty Martel, you're not Hemingway or Pynchon, get over yourself. And you're from Canada, no less. Canada! How dare you try to be smart. Go back to your syrup-sucking and moose-mounting. And write a better book.

But apparently I'm in the minority here. This book won all kinds of crap prizes and it came to me highly recommended by my brilliant sibling Kelsi, so maybe I'm just an angry husk of a man who's too far removed from human contact and love to enjoy a simple coming-of-age tale about a boy and his fight for survival against impossible odds. Fine, I'll grant you that. Just as long as I don't have to read that stinking turd 'Life Of Pi' ever again.

*Okay, the one thing this book has going for it is the story. Despite the fact that I rip on it most thoroughly I did think the setting was unique. So you know, there's that.