BOOK COVER INTRO
Pi Patel, a God-loving boy and the son of a zookeeper, has a fervent love of stories and practices not only his native Hinduism, but also Christianity and Islam. When Pi is sixteen, his family and their zoo animals emigrate from India to North America abroad a Japanese cargo ship. Alas, the ship sinks - and Pi finds himself in a lifeboat, his only companions a hyena, an orangutan, a wounded zebra, and a 450-pound Bengal tiger. Soon the tiger has dispatched all but Pi. Can Pi and the tiger find their way to land? Can Pi's fear, knowledge, and cunning keep him alive until they do?

MY COMMENTS
Life Of Pi is an interesting, moving and at times disturbing story which has an ending that can be second guessed. It depend entirely on your faith in Pi's story about his survival at sea. It is not an easy read because it is slow but with slowness comes the deeper understanding of the characters which in this book, essentially 2. I have tried to read it a second time but realised it is far too difficult to read it again. But the first time reading had a profound effect on me. The style of writing was beyond description, intimate and yet entertaining in its own slow way. The story itself is intriguing and I am sure the BOOK COVER INTRO is more than enough to interest you. Whilst I enjoyed immensely his interaction with Richard Parker, the following excerpt is my most favourite from the book and is definitely one of the funniest I have ever read. It applies to our understanding of the 3 major religion even today and whilst it may sound offensive, I thought the writer captured the essence of the religions and Pi's answer as to why he wants to become a practising Muslim, Hindu AND a Christian is what unites all religion. I hope you enjoyed the excerpt.

THE EXCERPT

Chapter 23

After the "Hellos" and the "Good days", there was an awkward silence. The priest broke it when he said, with pride in his voice, "Piscine is a good Christian boy. I hope to see him join our choir soon."

My parents, the pandit and the imam looked surprised.

"You must be mistaken. He's a good Muslim boy. He comes without fail to Friday prayer, his knowledge of the Holy Qur'an is coming along nicely. So said the imam.

My parents, the priest and the pandit looked incredulous.

The pandit spoke. "You're both wrong. He's a good Hindu boy. I see him all the time at the temple coming for darshan and performing puja".

My parents, the imam and the priest looked astounded.

"There is no mistake," said the priest. "I know this boy. He is Piscine Molitor Patel and he's a Christian".

"I know him too, and I tell you he's a Muslim," asserted the imam.

"Nonsense!" cried the pandit. "Piscine was born a Hindu, lives and Hindu and will die a Hindu!"

The three wise men stared at each other, breathless and disbelieving.

Lord, avert their eyes from me, I whispered in my soul.

All eyes fell upon me.

"Piscine, can this be true?" asked the imam earnestly. "Hindus and Christians are idolaters. They have many gods".

"And Muslims have many wives," responded the pandit.

The priest looked askance at both of them. "Piscine," he nearly whispered, "there is salvation only in Jesus".

"Balderdash! Christians know nothing about religion," said the pandit.

"They strayed long ago from God's path", said the imam.

"Where's God in your religion?" snapped the priest/ "You don't have a single miracle to show for it. What kind of religion is that, without miracles?"

"It isn't a circus with dead people jumping out of tombs all the time, that's what! We Muslims stick to the essential miracle of existence. Birds flying, rain falling, crops growing - these are miracles enough for us."

"Feathers and rain are all nice, but we like to know that God is truly with us."

"Is that so? Well, a whole lot of good it did God to be with you - you tried to kill him! You banged him to a cross with great big nails. Is that a civilised way to treat a prophet? The prophet Muhammad - peace be upon him - brought us the word of God without any undignified nonsense and died at a ripe ole age."

"The word of God? To that illiterate merchant of yours in the middle of the desert? Those were drooling epileptic fits brought on by the swaying of his camel, not divine revelation. That, or the sun frying his brains!"

"If the Prophet -p.b.u.h-were alive, he would have choice words for you." replied the imam, with narrowed eyes.

"Well, he's not! Christ is alive, while you p.b.u.h. is dead, dead, dead!"

The pandit interrupted them quietly. In Tamil he said , "The real question is, why is Piscine dallying with these foreign religions?"

The eyes of the priest and the imam properly poped out of their heads. They were both native Tamils.

"God is universal" spluttered the priest.

The imam nodded strong approval. "There is only one God".

"And with their one god Muslims are always causing troubles and provoking riots. The proof of how bad Islam is, is how uncivilized Muslims are," pronounced the pandit.

"Says the slave-driver of the caste system," huffed the imam. "Hindus enslave people and worship dressed-up dolls."

"They are called golden calf lovers. They kneel before cows," the priest chimed in.

"While the Christians kneel before a white man! They are the flunkies of a foreign god. They are the nightmare of all non-white people."

"And they eat pigs and are cannibals," added the imam for good measure.

"What it comes down to," the priest put out with cool rage, "is whether Piscine wants real religion - or myths from a cartoon strip."

"God - or idols, "intoned the imam gravely.

"Our gods - or colonial gods," hissed the pandit.

It was hard to tell whose face was more inflamed. It looked as if they may come to blows.

Father raised his hands . "Gentlemen, gentlemen, please!" he interjected. "I would like to remind you there is freedom of practice in this country."

Three apoplectic faces turned to him.

"Yes, practice - singular!". the wise men screamed in unison. Three index fingers, like punctuation marks, jumped to attention in the air to emphasize their point.

They were not pleased at the unintended choral effect of the spontaneous unity of their gestures. Their fingers came down quickly, and they sighed and groaned each on his own. Father and Mother stared on, at a loss for words.

The pandit spoke first. "Mr Patel, Piscine's piety is admirable. In these troubled times it's good to see a boy so keen on God. We all agree on that." The imam and the priest nodded. "But he can't be a Hindu, a Christian and a Muslim. It's impossible. He must choose."

"I don't think it is a crime, but I supposed you're right," Father replied.

The three murmured agreement and looked heavenward, as did Father, whence they felt the decision must come. Mother looked at me. A silence fell heavily on my shoulders.

"Hmmm, Piscine?" Mother nudged me. "How do you feel about the question?"

"Bapu Gandhi said "All religions are true." I just want to love God," I blurted out, and looked down, red in the face.

My embarassment was contagious. No one said anything. It happened we were not far fromn the statue of Gandhi on the esplanade. Stick in hand, impish smile on his lips, a twinkle in his eyes, the Mahatma walked. I fancy that he heard our conversation, but that he paid even greater attention to my heart. Father cleared his throat and said in a half-voice, "I supposed that's what we're all trying to do - love God".

I thought it very funny that he should say that, he who hadn't stepped into a temple with a serious itent since I had had the faulty memory. But it seemed to do the trick. You can't reprimand a boy for wanting to love God. The three wise men pulled away with stiff, grudging smiles on their faces.