I've decided to wait a bit and come back to The Life of Pi. I read it over the course of this past week, wanting to read it before the movie comes out.
I don't know how I feel about the book. My mind gets all boggled up with making meaning: religions, zoos (which are man making a physical reality for animals and in a way making a meaning out of that physicality), the meaninglessness of life - real life - and our desires to make stories both to give meaning and to hide meaning. I was left with sorrow.
But out of all the story - a boy who survives being shipwrecked in a boat with a 450 lb. Bengal tiger, an island of man eating algae populated by fishing meerkats, a blind cannibal - this tied up everything it seems...
Where we can, we must give things a meaningful shape.
Where we can, indeed.