Did you ever have a day you are sorry you spent in a particular pursuit and wished you could get it back? Thus was the case with Beatrice and Virgil by Yann Martel . First of all, what in the world is it about: a fictional author with writer's block, a horrible play, a horrific playwright, taxidermy? I think it may be the first, but maybe the last. Still haven't quite figured that one out, sad to say. Secondly, is this worthy of paper? The answer is no. There are no redeeming elements of the story. I don't like the narrator, his wife, his music teacher, the taxidermist, the waiter. I kind of like the veterinarian, but that's because he does what has to be done. That brings me to the gross elements of the story. Taxidermy isn't my favorite subject, but I stuck with the story because I loved Life of Pi . It had to get better, right? Wrong. I waded through stories of rabid dogs killing cats, torture of a donkey, the slaughter...