Beatrice and Virgil

I have a treat for you guys today! No, I am not handing out cookies. Well, I am. Here, have some e-cookies. But that is not the main treat. You see . . . I usually review books that are at least a few years (if not a few decades or centuries) old. Today marks the first time in the nearly ten months I have had this blog that I review a book that has only been out for a month--Yann Martel's Beatrice and Virgil. I am a huge fan of Martel's Life of Pi, so I was totally psyched for this book! As soon as it was released, I rushed to the library I work at and snatched the first copy. Muahahaha It was mine! All mine! *cough*

For those of who you also love Life of Pi and are curious about Martel's latest book, you're probably wondering: Is Beatrice and Virgil like Life of Pi? Well, that depends upon your definition of "like Life of Pi." This book shares the same effortless prose and quirky humor, but the similarities end there. Life of Pi is much more fantastical than this novel, yet Beatrice and Virgil is much weirder. Life of Pi is odd, but Beatrice and Virgil is a very postmodern, literary work that is rich in symbolism and whether or not you like this book will hinge heavily upon your tolerance for postmodern literature.

I am one of those geeks who adores postmodernism and literary fiction, so I really enjoyed this novel, which relates the tale of Henry--who, like the writer in Life of Pi, is a thinly veiled version of Martel himself--as he struggles to find success in the publishing world after writing a bestseller. Frustrated when his imaginative work on the Holocaust is rejected for being too bizarre and inaccessible, he goes into a self-imposed exile in an unidentified city, taking music lessons and acting in community theater yet militantly refusing to write. One day Henry gets some fan mail from a local man who has enclosed an excerpt from his own work--a play starring a donkey named Beatrice and a howler monkey named Virgil. (If you know these two are named after Dante's guides in The Divine Comedy, you are my new nerdy best friend.) Henry meets the writer--a gruff, elderly taxidermist who is also named Henry--and the two strike up a somewhat dysfunctional collaboration on the play. And then Henry--the writer Henry--starts to wonder just exactly what he's gotten himself into . . .

I found Henry, the writer protagonist, likeable as a main character and Beatrice and Virgil, the fictional animals in the taxidermist's play, become intriguing characters in their own right. The plot starts off as a somewhat meandering tale of writer's block--Oh, how I can relate!--that has lots of simplistic charm and an intriguing atmosphere but not a lot of certifiable action. That's fine with me, because I enjoy Martel's style and the world he crafts; however, if you're expecting an action-packed plot, you'll be sorely disappointed. Not to say the story is boring. The interactions between the personable Henry and the emotionally distant and occasionally bizarre taxidermist are entertaining and easy to relate to. (Think of all the times you have tried your best to work with someone you could never, ever understand. Now you know how Henry feels.) The excerpts from the play itself--a witty, absurdist play highly reminiscent of Samuel Beckett's work--are fascinating in and of themselves.

Though I enjoyed this novel very much, I must warn you: The last few pages of the novel take a disturbing and surprising turn that both rattled and delighted me. I love surprises and this one was a genuine shocker, seeing how the rest of the novel lulled me into a false sense of security and then slapped me upside the head with said false sense of security. I have seen other people ranting on the internet that the ending was gratuitously violent and unfair. I think that's being naive--I mean, Beatrice and Virgil is an allegorical novel about the Holocaust, so it's only natural that it is going to be somewhat disturbing. That being said, definitely do not read this book if you're turned off by violent content. The whole book itself is not violent, but the ending will upset you.

This novel is definitely not for everyone, but I enjoyed it very much. (I just finished it this afternoon and am still trying to process it, but I think I actually like this book even more than Life of Pi, which is saying something.) I can't guarantee that you will like this book if you liked Life of Pi, but I think this is a book that those who enjoy postmodernist and/or literary fiction will relish. On its own merits, Beatrice and Virgil is a deceptively simple, engaging, and thought-provoking meditation on the nature of evil, art, personal responsibility, and guilt. I would definitely love to hear what you guys think if you read this, even if you want to kill me for recommending it. (I will defend myself with a very thick collection of encyclopedias if you want to book duel me. :P)

Next Week: Not sure. Maybe Cormac McCarthy. Maybe John Garder's Grendel. Maybe something else. We shall see! :)

Life of Pi

I used to think that being stranded alone on a lifeboat in the middle of the Pacific Ocean would be the worst possible situation to be stranded in. After reading Yann Martel’s fascinating, surreal novel Life of Pi, I stand corrected. Being stranded on a lifeboat with a 450 lb. Bengal tiger in the middle of the Pacific Ocean is definitely the worst possible situation to be stranded in. And this is exactly what happens to Martel’s sixteen year old protagonist Pi Patel.

I love survival stories, but many of the more recent ones I’ve read have been so clichéd. (If I read another story about a band of egotistical teens that get stranded and learn the values of teamwork, I will scream.) Not so with Life of Pi. This is one of the most original books I’ve read in a long time. The plot is pretty outlandish (and at times a touch fantastical) but Martel always keeps it believable and interesting. (I didn’t want to put this book down!) I was really impressed with the skill Martel crafted his plot structure. He breaks the story down into three very different parts and alternates between settings and narrators. Many books I’ve read like this suffer from uneven pacing. (Yes, books suffer from this medical condition. Sadly, there is no cure.) I didn’t have this problem with this novel at all. The first section is a bittersweet, coming-of-age tale that only hints at what is to come. The second part is the meat of the story – Pi’s harrowing, psychological battle of wills with Richard Parker (the aforementioned Bengal tiger) which is intense, weirdly funny, and quite frightening. The third section is a short, sarcastic interview with Pi that calls into question the entire story of his ordeal on the Pacific. Martel weaves back and forth between these disparate elements of the story effortlessly, and each part more than stands on its own. Furthermore, this is one of the best written books I’ve read in a while. Martel infuses his scenes with so much humor, insight, and emotion. His descriptive scenes are wonderfully evocative and his narration often delves into philosophical territory about faith, fear, and survival, without ever being ponderous or cumbersome. This book is an emotional rollercoaster that has you laughing one minute and cringing in terror the next. (I don’t consider myself unduly squeamish, but there is one scene in here involving a hyena and a zebra that literally made me sick to my stomach. It takes an exceptional writer to produce that kind of an emotional response in a reader!)

As impressive as this book is, I think that Pi Patel stands out as Martel’s greatest achievement in this novel. Pi is intelligent, courageous, and sensitive – he always has your sympathy. I must admit: When I first read the plot description on the back cover, which explained that Pi was a practicing Hindu, Muslim, and Christian, I was a bit skeptical. I love to study religions myself, but I thought that sounded gimmicky. After reading the book, however, I realized that Pi’s novel religious beliefs fit him perfectly. One of the scenes that I ended up sympathizing with him the most was actually the one in which his parents and religious mentors desperately try to convince him that his unorthodox beliefs are impossible to reconcile. Many critics compared Pi to the protagonist of Hemingway’s The Old Man and the Sea. Pi reminded me more of Elie Wiesel in Night. I know that’s a strange comparison – Pi is an Indian castaway from the 1970s and Wiesel is a Romanian Jewish Holocaust survivor (and of course, Pi and Wiesel’s religious responses are polar opposites). But Pi’s maturity, wit, and wisdom (not to mention his distinctive, polished, conversational narration) reminded me a lot of Wiesel in Night.

Life of Pi is definitely one of the best contemporary novels I’ve read. Masterfully written, deeply thought provoking, and absolutely captivating, this book has become a modern day classic for a reason. You won’t soon forget Life of Pi.

P.S. Tis the season for Halloween this month, as I am sure that all of you know. I don't celebrate Halloween, but I enjoy being scared senseless and I was going to try to find something suitably spooky for you guys to read. However, I was perusing the Internet yesterday and found a great Halloween reading list on Shmoop that saved me the trouble. (What, you've never heard of Shmoop? *gasp* This is something I shall remedy! Shmoop is a website that features literature and history study guides. Their study guides are amazing [and hilarious.] Shmoop is a fairly new website, but they're adding new features constantly. I highly recommend them.) Shmoop's list features a wonderful assortment of classic horror novels (and poems!) which I either already love (Dracula, Frankenstein, anything by Poe), have been meaning to read and now really want to read (The Picture of Dorian Grey and The Turning of the Screw) or have never heard of and must read pronto (Browning's "Porphyria's Lover." You'll see why when you read the description.) So check out this great recommendation list and be afraid. Be very afraid.

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Next Week: So far, I’ve been able to spare you guys one of my multiple choice teasers. Well, not this week. I have no idea what I am reviewing next week. I do know it will be either something by James M. Cain or John Le Carre or Lynne Truss's With One More Lousy Free Packet of Seed. I apologize for being so vague, but there is method to my madness. I anticipate that I am going to be attacked with a cruel and unusual amount of homework in the coming weeks, so I am trying to read some shorter novels (and review some of the books I’m reading in World Lit.), so that I can have things to post on and indulge in longer books (Discworld!) during my period of torture, I mean, studies. That’s the plan anyway. We’ll see how my strategy works out.