“The golden agouti, like the rhinoceros, was in need of companionship” (Martel, 108). While the book never sounded as if it were written by a child, it was certainly not on the level of William Shakespeare. It was just right. “Tears flowing down my cheeks, I egged myself on until I heard a cracking sound and I no longer felt any life fighting in my hands” (Martel, 231). The language wasn’t written in a bland, distasteful manner. Every single word had a meaningful purpose, just as a member of a marching band is vital to the form of a football game’s halftime show. Margaret Atwood agrees: “Life of Pi is a terrific book. It’s fresh, original, smart, devious, and crammed with absorbing lore.” The imagery presented in the Life of Pi was
