The lower
you are, the higher your mind will want to soar.
Pi narrates these words in chapter 93,
toward the end of his ordeal at sea and as he is reaching the depths
of his despair. As Pi mentions just before this, his situation seems
“as pointless as the weather.” Up to now, Pi’s tedious life at sea
has been alleviated somewhat with sporadic new activities: killing
fish, taming Richard Parker, creating drinkable water using the
solar stills, and so on. More notably, the blind French castaway
and the days spent on the floating island gave Pi a change in routine.
But now the novelty has worn off. This section, in which nothing
is expected to happen, drives Pi into utter hopelessness, yet he
must continue living.
At this point Pi turns to God and, Martel implies, invents
the story that we have just read. His mind is desperate to escape
the physical reality of continued existence on the lifeboat, and
so it soars into the realm of fiction. At his lowest point, Pi reaches
for the only remaining sources of salvation available to him: faith
and imagination. Through the plot’s remaining action, Martel emphasizes
that such a strategy for self-preservation can actually be astonishingly
effective. Immediately after this moment in the text, Pi lands on
a beach in Mexico. Like a deus ex machina suddenly
offering resolution in an ancient Greek play, the religion of storytelling
is Pi’s escape hatch, rescuing him from the depths of his misery.