I rarely read fiction anymore. When I used to commute on the T (public transportation for you non-Bostonians), I read a lot of fiction, and I enjoyed it. Now I rarely have the time. There are so many other things competing for my attention. But I’d like to change that.
I saw the book Life of Pi at my in-laws house, and it intrigued me. I had heard of it when it first came out. It seemed like an engaging and thought-provoking story, so I decided to read it as a test case in reading fiction in the midst of a complex life.
The word “Pi” not withstanding, it is not about math, but about a man and a tiger. I’ve already hit paragraphs that make me glad I took it up:
... atheists are my brothers and sisters of a different faith. Like me, they go as far as their legs of reason will carry them — and then they leap.
I’ll be honest about it. It’s not atheists who get stuck in my craw, but agnostics. Doubt is useful for a while. ... But we must move on. To choose doubt as a philosophy of life is akin to choosing immobility as a means of transportation.