I enjoyed “Life of Pi” much more than “The Inheritance of Loss.” I had been put off of “Pi” because of the story when it first came out. A boy and a tiger lost at sea? No thank you. But I finally read it, and I’m glad I did.

I’m not sure which of Pi’s stories I believe. I prefer the Richard Parker version, but I’m afraid that wasn’t the “true” one.

And now, some quotes.

I chose the sloth because its demeanour — calm, quiet and introspective — did something to soothe my shattered self.

The presence of God is the finest of rewards.

Faith in God is an opening up, a letting go, a deep trust, a free act of love — but sometimes it was so hard to love. Sometimes my heart was sinking so fast with anger, desolation and weariness, I was afraid it would sink to the very bottom of the Pacific and I would not be able to lift it back up.

“The Inheritance of Loss” is really, really depressing. I heard an interview a few weeks ago with Kiran Desai, and the book sounded interesting. So when we were at the bookstore and my dad asked what he should read next, I picked it up and said, “I heard this was good.” It did, after all, win the 2006 Booker Prize.

I finished it today. I don’t think Dad will like it. I don’t think I liked it.

I’m reading “The Life of Pi” next. It also won the Booker Prize. It’s also about an Indian. Named Patel. Just like “Inheritance.” Oh boy.

I finished “What Now, King Lear?” a few days ago. It’s a silly mystery novel; the plot unravelled quite steadily, to the point that I really didn’t care who did it by the end. “Gil Yates” is the investigator’s PI alter ego; by day, he works for his wife’s father’s real estate brokerage. He hates his job, his father-in-law and his wife. He was a little mean-spirited for my taste.

In short: Not my favorite book.