Let me explain. In 2003, I moved to China with my possessions (I call this true love - my boyfriend had accepted a job there and even though China is just above, say, Iraq in desirable places to live, I was raring to go join him). 'Possessions' means no books, as my clothes and shoes alone weighed a lot.

And I didn't know that Xiamen, the city we moved to, did not sell English language books or magazines, except trashy ones in the 'cultural' bookstore in one of the malls. After a couple of weeks I was ready to tear my hair out. I had a friend who offered to send me a book (he would surprise me).

The book was Life of Pi. When I received it, I DEVOURED it. Three times in the first week upon getting it in the mail. I LOVE Piscine Molitor Patel. I love Richard Parker. I love the Japanese guys. I love the old man who told Pi's story. I was so close to the edge of insanity without any books that I desperately wanted to believe this was a piece of non-fiction!

The parts that struck me the most were Pi's accepting that he had to stop being a Hindu vegetarian when he was starving and how he learned to hunt, and the carnivorous green island. They have stuck in my head all these years.