One of those books for which you feel almost nothing. It's neither poignant nor heart-warming, neither shocking nor horrifying. It just messily clubs together a whole lot of zoological and botanical information, some fine imagery along with a survivor story and lofty ideas about faith. It is easy to see that Life of Pi
is a deeply allegorical novel but the message received at the end is neither loud nor clear. Through Pi's story of survival(literal and otherwise), the author tries to reinforce his own opinions on religion and faith. But this is not done with a tremendous amount of conviction since I wasn't exactly blown away by the writer's sky-high assertions. Further, my enjoyment of the novel was curtailed somewhat by the fact I had to peel off several layers of the story to get to the core of it. I think I would've been able to appreciate the book more, had it been just an adventurous story of survival and an unlikely bond between a boy and a feline that forms in the face of disaster. The only impression I was able to form about this book is that the narrator got carried away in his earnest attempts at creating a most original style of fiction or trying to beget something really unique and ended up sounding dubious instead. While the writer goes on and on about hanging on to faith, the reader remains largely unaffected. So this book would remain in my memories as a sort of a compilation of moments rather than a great story I read. It does shine here and there and show sparks of brilliance sporadically, but overall it loses out when it comes to leaving a permanent impression.