Pi describes and sometimes personifies the sky and sea in various ways, from lively, antagonistic forces to apathetic and inanimate to intimate friends. In Chapter 78, he describes the changing nature of the sky and sea using personification, simile, and imagery:
There were many skies. The sky was invaded by great white clouds, flat on the bottom but round and billowy on top. The sky was completely cloudless, of a blue quite shattering to the senses. The sky was a heavy, suffocating blanket of grey cloud, but without promise of rain…The sky was many clouds at many levels, some thick and opaque, others looking like smoke. The sky was black and spitting rain on my smiling face. The sky was nothing but falling water, a ceaseless deluge that wrinkled and bloated my skin and froze me stiff.
There were many seas. The sea roared like a tiger. The sea whispered in your ear like a friend telling you secrets. The sea clinked like small change in a pocket. The sea thundered like avalanches. The sea hissed like sandpaper working on wood. The sea sounded like someone vomiting. The sea was dead silent.
Pi’s intense focus on the sky and sea is partially due to how these two forces make up the entirety of his surroundings beyond the boat, trapping him on all sides. His life and death depend greatly on the weather of the sky and sea, and his lengthy descriptions emphasize this all-consuming nature. The long list of descriptions reflects the endless nature of the sky and sea. He uses personification (the clouds "invade" the sky and the sea "whisper[s]") as well as simile (the sea "roar[s] like a tiger") to emphasize how fearsome and powerful the natural elements are, and how small and vulnerable he is in comparison. To make this descriptions even more impactful and help the reader comprehend the magnitude of what he's experience, Pi also weaves in vivid imagery: the sky is "a heavy, suffocating blanket of grey cloud," and the sea "thunder[s] like avalanches."
The fact that Pi cannot stick to just one comparison also shows his inability to fully understand or articulate the nature of the sky and sea. Yet, all he can do is try and better understand the two, because they are a constant presence in his current situation. Furthermore, Pi’s inconsistent characterization of the two forces demonstrates how he views the sky and sea simultaneously as beautiful parts of God’s world; inanimate and uncaring forces of nature; and, more bitterly, as two of many things trying to kill him. The comparison of the sea to the tiger is especially telling in this regard, as the forces are like Richard Parker in their dual ability to provide comfort and pain.
The book uses personification to displace Pi’s negative emotions onto inanimate objects. This technique shows how Pi, as a narrator, often tries to hide or cope with his most vulnerable moments after the shipwreck. After Pi is passed by another boat that could have saved him, he initially acts as if he has not been negatively affected by this missed opportunity. However, directly after this scene, in Chapter 88, Pi personifies a floating refrigerator full of trash. His description gives further insight into his lingering anger:
In the closed, humid confines of the refrigerator, the smell had had the time to develop, to ferment, to grow bitter and angry. It assaulted my senses with a pent-up rage that made my head reel, my stomach churn and my legs wobble.
The smell of the refrigerator is personified as bitter and angry due to the extended period in which it has been abandoned. This antagonistic nature is so strong that it seemingly possesses Pi, taking over his body and making him shake like someone shaking with rage. The smell represents Pi’s own anger, which has been festering and has grown especially bitter by the recent missed opportunity of the passing ship and now this trash pile, which offers him no food or anything of use. Pi likewise feels abandoned. When telling his story, Pi displaces these emotions onto his surroundings to create a better story that, despite the suffering it contains, focuses on the spiritual or philosophical outcomes of that suffering rather than the anger it inspires.