If I had to choose one book of all the books I’ve read to suggest as one to read, it would definitely be “Life of Pi” by Yann Martel. I love books that have a unique story line and leave me whirling in the wake of the story, wishing that I could grab hold of it again for the first time. My husband often wonders why I cry at the end of a book I’ve really enjoyed. He reads for knowledge, indulging himself in facts and theories that will prove helpful in future debate or practical application. I, rather, read to enjoy the complexities of characters and the struggles they experience. Their challenges become mine, their losses rip my heart apart, and their mysteries leave me bewildered. As the story draws to a close, I find my eye lingering over words much longer than necessary in order to delay the inevitable: The goodbye. It’s the tragedy shared by every book lover. Losing a character that we’ve grown to love, never to have the chance to peer into their lives through the looking-glass of paper, left to imagine what might become for them. I read “Life of Pi” when I was newly pregnant with Lola. Now, 3 years after her birth, I’m still crashing around the waves of the story’s wake.

I pose this question to those that have read “Life of Pi”, do you think it really happened? Or was it the tale dreamed up by a boy’s mind trying to cope with the trauma of loss?

I, for one, believe in the magical.