Tiger, Tiger

by Margaux Fragoso

An einem Sommertag in einem öffentlichen Freibad trifft Margaux Fragoso auf Peter Curran, der mit seinen Stiefsöhnen dort ist, und fragt, ob er mit ihr spielen will. Sie ist sieben, er 51. Als sie einige Zeit später mit ihrer Mutter in sein ungewöhnliches Haus eingeladen wird, findet das Mädchen dort ein zauberhaftes Kinderparadies vor, voller seltsamer Haustiere, Bücher, Musik und magischer Spielzeuge. Margaux‘ Mutter ist liebevoll, aber vom Alltag überfordert und psychisch krank. Immer mehr überlässt sie Peter in fataler Verkennung dessen, was vor ihren Augen geschieht, ihre Tochter. Bald will Margaux ihre gesamte Zeit bei Peter verbringen, der eine ganze Welt für sie erschafft - ganz so wie Lewis Carroll es für Alice getan hat.

Ihre Beziehung entwickelt sich schnell vom Unschuldigen zum Illegalen. Mit der Zeit erschleicht sich Peter die Rolle von Margaux‘ Spielkameraden, wird zu ihrem Vater, dann zum Liebhaber und Eroberer. Charmant und abstoßend, warmherzig und gewalttätig, liebevoll und manipulativ dringt Peter in jeden Bereich von Margaux‘ Leben ein und verwandelt sie von einem vor Phantasie und Gefühl sprühenden Mädchen in eine jung-alte Frau am Rande des Suizids. Die Umwelt wird auf das ungleiche Paar aufmerksam, doch alle Erkundungen von außerhalb verlaufen im Sand. Als sie 22 ist, ist es Peter, der sich, gequält von der Angst, sie zu verlieren, mit 66 Jahren das Leben nimmt.

Genres: Memoir, Nonfiction, Biography, Abuse, Autobiography, True Crime, Biography Memoir

463 pages, Hardcover

First published March 1, 2011

About the author

Margaux Fragoso is the author of Tiger, Tiger. She has recently completed a PhD in English and creative writing at Binghamton University. Her short stories and poems have appeared in The Literary Review and Barrow Street, among other literary journals.

http://us.macmillan.com/author/margau...

She passed away of ovarian cancer at age 38.

https://www.nytimes.com/2017/06/27/bo...

Reviews

[Matilda · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was a tough read. Both because of the subject matter and because of the writing style. Initially, in the first part of the book, I found her writing to be difficult to believe and, therefore, difficult to get into. I am one of those people who has problems with the current trend in memoirs to be told in pages of elegant dialogue and lengthy descriptions of settings that cannot possibly be remembered. I was prepared for this by a well-written review I read on NPR, however, so I stuck with it.

There were some obvious anachronisms early on, which continued throughout the book, such as the cost of pay phones, styles of clothing, popular music. At one point, about thirty pages in, there was a cautionary tale supposedly told to her by her father that was suspiciously similar to a plot point from the novel The Dollmaker and I almost gave up on the book in disgust. Strangely, then I recalled that there was a TV movie made from the book at around the same time as the story was being told in the book; it occurred to me that it was possible that her father had seen it and based his story on it, while the author remained wholly unaware. (Later in the book, her father tells other stories inspired by popular movies and television shows at the time so I came to feel this was a plausible hypothesis.)

At any rate, at some point, something switched over and I became very immersed in the writing, almost as if I were living in it myself. I'm not sure at what point this turn occurred; whether there was a change in the style of the writing or if it was rather that I just became accustomed to it. This in itself became something of a problem as well because the deep depression of the narrator, as well as of all the characters, seeped right through me. It was less that I was observing these people and more as though I were one of them. I'm not sure if I have ever felt so morose while reading a book. And I have read a lot of dark and disturbing books. Fortunately, this one is a quick read or I'm not sure if I could have stood it much longer.

As to the subject matter, it's very difficult to stomach. Very. If my circumstances were different, I'm not sure that I would have been able to handle it. I had wanted to read it because I thought it might be an insightful portrait of how a child molester truly preys on his victims (which it is). Having worked in the past with many, many victims of sexual abuse, I was already very aware of the grave misconceptions that abound about child molesters. After reading the review from NPR, I wasn't sure if this book was going to have what I was looking for but it was Kathryn Harrison's much more favorable and less ambivalent review in the NY Times that prompted me to try it.

I was concerned about the number of reviews I saw that mentioned that the book "humanizes a pedophile," including Alice Sebold's, as I didn't want to feel pity and forgiveness for a warm and cuddly child molester. I was already aware that vast numbers of abusers come from very traumatic backgrounds and I had already had many experiences seeing the humanity in monsters who had committed truly deplorable crimes. That was not what I was looking for. I consider it a great success of the book that the reader remains consistently aware and disgusted by the despicable behavior of the abuser while simultaneously understanding the perspective of the narrator who felt charmed by and loved by him, who felt sympathy, love and desperation for him. He was humanized in the sense that he was a fleshed out, embodied being that was comprehensible to the reader, and not the one-dimensional caricature of a monster that is typically portrayed. For this reason I think this book is an excellent work. It does no one much good to only perceive pedophiles as the latter description. It certainly makes it easier for us to keep them at arm's length but it does nothing to help us "see" them. Of course, knowing that they are all around us, people whom we know and interact with everyday, makes it incredibly difficult for any of us to want to come to grips with actually "seeing" them. Yet it is so important that we do so.

She succeeded in drawing me in enough that I was able to suspend my initial misgivings about form and appreciate that she was capturing the spirit and essence of the situation in an evocative and compelling manner. I'm not certain I would recommend it for survivors. I worry that if it affected my emotional well-being in the manner that it did, it would surely be worse for those for whom it triggers memories. It was, however, favorably reviewed by the survivor of a brutal rape (Alice Sebold) as well as by a survivor of incest (Kathryn Harrison), so perhaps my apprehensions are unfounded. Although neither experienced it as children and presumably did not act out in the terribly sad sexualized manner Fragoso describes of herself in the book.

Her brief analysis and her references in her afterword are excellent. Though it made me realize how inadequate much of the educational response is to the issue. I have seen great strides made in informing the public of the reality of typical abusers. Dispelling the notion of the stranger molester, though still an obvious threat they only make up less than 1% of such situations, and teaching people that the vast majority of abusers are known to, and commonly in positions to be trusted by, their victims. As a mother of young children I am concerned with finding ways to educate my children as to how best to try to protect themselves in ways that neither make them overly fearful of the world nor confuse them about sexuality issues.

I have come across many excellent books written to teach children their age about their bodies and their sole rights to their bodies. I have read good analyses describing the inherent problems in the earlier educational campaigns that utilized the "good touch/bad touch" concept. While this information is useful, it is focused on moments of contact. What is generally ignored, and what is made undeniably crystal clear in "Tiger, Tiger," is the complex dynamic carefully set up by most abusers to eventually lead them to situations that enable them to ultimately achieve their goals. The tests they direct at their victims--the secret keeping, the ingratiating behaviors, the means of emotionally isolating children from those who can protect them.

Of course the flip side of this, and the final thing she addresses in her afterword, is how best to prevent or attempt to treat those prone to such predatory behavior in the first place. Dr. Fred Berlin of Johns Hopkins, whom she cites in her book and one of the few people studying pedophiles and how to deal with them, mentioned in an interview the difficulty in getting funding for such research, noting that people often view such funding as being "pro-pedophilia" and "anti-victim". This couldn't be further from the truth, of course, because we cannot protect those most vulnerable to such predation unless we know what we are up against. We cannot begin to "see" unless we are willing to look.

I think the single best thing about this book is that it shines a light on the manner in which these situations often develop. We have long known that pedophiles prey on the vulnerable, but there was an interesting statement made to researcher Amy Hammel-Zabin, whom Fragoso also cites, in her interviews with a child molester. The pedophile pointed out that children more than anything just want to be listened to, so he often ingratiated himself simply by portraying himself as someone who would always lend an ear. It's a very illuminating statement. While we tend to think of vulnerability in relation to children who are already seriously neglected, either by their families or by society at large, this greatly expands the concept. The former are, of course, the most at-risk and the most likely to be subjected to multiple situations of abuse but this does not exempt children who dwell within any point on the social spectrum. Which is why, I think, it can be especially challenging to confront the situation when it occurs in what we presumed to be a safety zone.

While the author certainly meets the criteria for the very vulnerable, growing up with an emotionally abusive father and a seriously mentally ill mother, and living in a working-class community in an era and area that experienced rapidly declining financial stability, she very clearly also exemplifies the latter scenario to the nth degree, a child who so desperately wants to be listened to. It is along this line of the narrative that book is most elegant, most poignant and most insightful.

In the 1980s there was a campaign that implored for people to listen to the children, that children should be heard and believed. It was a time when people were coming out in the open about the need to confront child abuse and child sexual abuse. It seems without question now but I remember what a huge step it was at the time. I think the thing that ultimately makes this book so important and so extraordinary, despite my misgivings about the writing, is that it takes that concept a step further. Children need to be listened to always. From the beginning. The importance of taking the time to listen and engage with our children cannot be understated. How could time spent doing chores or on the internet or reading compare with that? Taking the moments to let my children talk to me and to let them know I hear them. This is what was driven home to me by this book and it's a lesson for which I am incredibly grateful.

[Kate Woods Walker · Rating 4 out of 5]

A grand jury report is inadvertently released in Pennsylvania, America reads the phrase "rhythmic slapping sounds" and is forced to visualize the actual rape of a child, and in the Sandusky/Penn State scandal, public consciousness changes. "Molestation" sounds so much better than "anal rape," after all. Easier to take, easier to imagine as something lesser.

A great author, who confesses upfront that he wants to have sex with little girls, writes the ultimate pedophile fantasy and calls it Lolita. Rather than see the tale for what it is—the sickest of sick jokes made by the worst kind of human, the literary community lines up to heap praise on what many still persist in calling a “love story.”

What is common is that we don’t want to believe monsters walk among us undetected. And they do.

In Tiger, Tiger, Margaux Fragoso does as much as anyone in recent memory to force the world to see—to really see—what a pedophile does, and to force us to lose our tinted, heart-shaped Lolita glasses and look upon what is really happening in basements, locker rooms, and Neverland hideaways. Evil exists, evil actively seeks to debase and defile innocence, and evil is embodied in the best liars on the planet—pedophiles.

It’s a graphic recounting. Not only are the physical acts presented, but Fragoso does an astonishing job of depicting the closed-off, claustrophobic world a psychopath builds around his victims. Even the air I breathed as I read some passages seemed thicker, and more oppressive.

Read what others have to say and watch how desperately we’ll work to doubt the author. Are the long quotations accurate enough? Is the prose overworked? Too graphic? Not graphic enough? Consider how much we want to blame the victim, the victim’s family, authorities…anyone but the perpetrator. Even the author--obviously intelligent, resilient, and willing to face awful truths—closes the story softly, without condemnation of the beast who would have destroyed her. She loved him, after all. She’s doing her best to tell us what it was like.

This is a heroic story, despite its flaws. I commend the author for doing the work required to get this story on paper, and I recommend this book to anyone who loves a child sexual abuse victim. And there are many, many victims out there, and their cases are as bad--or worse--than this one. Don’t look away.

[Peter · Rating 3 out of 5]

Warnung: Dieses Buch schildert den sexuellen Missbrauch einer Minderjährigen. Durch das Niederschreiben meiner Erinnerungen habe ich versucht, die alten, tief verwurzelten Muster von Leiden und Missbrauch aufzubrechen, die meine Familie seit Generationen verfolgen. In ihrem Nachwort stellt die Autorin klar, dass es sich bei dem Buch nicht um einen Roman handelt, wie im Untertitel angegeben, sondern um eine autobiographische Schilderung: Die Schilderung ihres eigenen Missbrauchs durch einen 44 Jahre älteren Mann. Die „Beziehung“ begann als Margaux 8 Jahre alt war und endete erst 14 Jahre später mit dem Selbstmord des Täters.

Das Erschreckende an dieser Geschichte sind nicht nur die beinahe klinisch geschilderten Übergriffe, sondern die Darstellung des Täters. Margaux erlebt ihn nicht als Raubtier („predator“, wie pädophile Sexualstraftäter in den USA häufig genannt werden), sondern als verständnis- und liebevollen Menschen, der sich ungewöhnlich gut auf die Welt und Spiele von Kindern einlassen kann, ganz im Gegenteil zu ihrem selbstverliebten Vater und der psychisch labilen Mutter. Doch die Zuneigung Peter Currans hat einen Preis. Er fordert zuerst unterschwellig, später immer nachdrücklicher Dinge jenseits der Schamgrenze des Mädchens, von körperlicher Nähe, Nacktheit bis zu oraler Befriedigung. Und er schafft eine Atmosphäre der Geheimhaltung, die sein Tun nicht nach Außen dringen lässt. Trotzdem wird die Umgebung misstrauisch, sieht aber lieber weg, denn es kann nicht sein, was nicht sein darf.

Dieses Buch ist nicht für jede und jeden geeignet. Für meinen Berufsstand aber – ich bin Lehrer – ist es geradezu notwendig, um die Mechanismen sexueller und emotioneller Ausbeutung zu verstehen und die Anzeichen richtig zu deuten. Margaux Frogosos findet mit erzählerischem Talent den schmalen Grat zwischen Anklage und reinem Tatsachenbericht, so dass sich das Buch beinahe unterhaltsam liest, wäre das nicht die schreckliche Thematik. Margaux gelingt es sich weitgehend von dem Missbrauch zu befreien und ein selbstbestimmtes, aber kurzes Leben zu führen. Die Autorin verstarb 2017 mit nur 38 Jahren an Krebs.

Der Titel sind die ersten Worten eines Gedichts von William Blake, in dem der Dichter fragt, wie es kommen kann, dass Gott ein reines Wesen wie ein Lamm, aber auch den Tiger geschaffen hat:

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

...

Did he smile his work to see?
Did he who made the Lamb make thee?

[Olivia Loccisano · Rating 5 out of 5]

This year I decided to read Tiger Tiger for the second time. In this harrowing memoir, Margaux Fragoso details her relationship with a 51 year old pedophile who she met when she was 7. This incredible memoir has negative criticism that I can break down into two categories: 1) the claim that the memoir romanticizes the abuse she faced, and 2) that the minute details of the memoir are hard to believe. I strongly disagree with the negative reviews on these two critiques of the book.

Firstly, yes, in this memoir, the abusive relationship between her and her abuser, Peter, is glamourized and romanticized. It is so important that this is the case though, because through Margaux's writing we can see how her child mind viewed the relationship. She truly believed as a child that she loved Peter and that Peter loved her. Margaux's warped perception of this relationship is the foundation of what makes pedophilic relationships so dangerous in the first place. She was manipulated as a child and absorbed everything that Peter said to her, unable to see the true horrors of the reality of this relationship. This memoir serves such honesty to its readers in terms of views and feelings that little Margaux had, and how much she looked up to their relationship. She asks, "Without Peter to see me, to adore me, how could I exist?" We see how reliant she is on Peter even as she grows up. This memoir romanticizes the relationship because child Margaux, much like many other children, do not have the mental or emotional capacity to understand grooming or the signs. They remain unaware, and completely at the hands of their adult perpetrators, who present and promote themselves as true lovers and caretakers, and it is beneath this nuanced façade that their villainous selves are not detected by their young victims.

Secondly, Tiger Tiger stands out for its intimate and meticulous details. Fragoso narrates reflecting on events that happened as young as the age of 7. The memoir faces criticism that because of all these specific details, it is hard to believe. One might ask how can someone remember distinct details that have happened so long ago? But living through such traumatizing, complex, and metamorphic experiences, one might also ask, how could one forget?

Tiger Tiger will always remain a stand out memoir for me. It might not be for everyone, but it is incredibly powerful.

[Rebecca · Rating 4 out of 5]

To call this book a memoir of childhood sexual abuse is to reduce it to something far too simplistic. Fragoso’s fifteen-year relationship with Peter Curran, who was 44 years her senior, was full of whirling instability, ranging from violence to tenderness and from innocence to perversion. Fragoso could have used this book as a final act of revenge on her abuser, but instead has created an unbiased and sympathetic picture of a man who was both victim and victimizer. Curran suffered childhood sexual abuse himself, at the hands of both men and women. Although this doesn’t excuse his action as an adult, it does help to explain it: he came to think of adults and children interacting sexually as normal, everyday occurrences.

Curran is presented as a gentle man, unconcerned with normal adult goals like a high-flying career, flashy car, fashionable clothing, and expendable income to spend on restaurant meals and jewelry. He loved being around children and animals. His meek persona was such that it could easily neutralize any suspicions people might have had about the amount of time he spent alone with Margaux. After Curran’s suicide Margaux’s parents gave very different accounts of who they thought he’d been. Her mother imagined him:

“In heaven. Looking down on you, your very own guardian angel. Sometimes, you know, I still think it’s possible he could have been the reincarnation of Jesus Christ. He was so wise and pure of heart. I just wish he could have gotten good psychiatric help. Maybe if he had just been on the right drugs, none of this would have happened.”

Her father, on the other hand, claimed to have always been wary of Peter: “You know, I always felt that there was something not right about him, something not normal. I couldn’t place my finger on it.” However, this was more likely to be on account of Peter’s lack of interest in the things that were important to him: personal appearance, clothing, money.

Neither of Margaux’s parents could have had any clue that in their time alone Peter was showing Margaux porn films and wheedling her into giving him blow jobs. Margaux’s father was too distant and self-centred, and her mother too affected by mental illness, to ever realize what was going on. Others had their doubts about the nature of Peter’s affection for Margaux; someone even called a social worker to come and investigate, but despite the pictures of little girls all over his bedroom walls, she couldn’t find enough evidence to convict him, especially with Margaux refusing to give any damning testimony. They lived in their own Lolita bubble for 15 years until Peter’s suicide.

What is most remarkable about Fragoso’s memoir is how convincingly she has recreated her childhood. It’s impossible that Fragoso could have remembered all these details of place, event, and particularly conversation; most of the scenes, and much of the dialogue, must surely be reconstructed. And yet, although I was aware all along that so much was built around small kernels of memory, I believed every word. The book is alternately novelistic and journalistic in its loving attention to detail, and Fragoso has done a triumphant job of capturing a child’s voice and perspective. As the character grows up, so does the vocabulary and the quality of introspection. Thus, for example, at age seven we get this child’s-eye view of a man’s genitals seen for the first time: “The whole contraption looked like a bunless hot dog with two partly deflated balloons attached.” Gross as it might be, it’s a brilliant imagining of what a child would have seen.

This is so much more than a victim’s memoir of abuse. It’s an evocation of childhood, a reflection on innocence and experience (with that title echoing William Blake), and a meditation on the goodness or sadness that one person can bring into the world. Fragoso has not settled for easy answers or clichéd sentiments. She neither glamorizes her situation nor demonizes her abuser. Despite all that he led her into, she loved Peter Curran, and for much of their relationship she was old enough to know what was right and wrong. If not for herself, she could have exposed Peter to stop him abusing his own daughters, his foster daughters, and (though he always denied it) his girlfriend’s son. Fragoso knows what her tacit consent caused, not just for herself but for others. This book should be, for her, an exorcism of old ghosts as well as a warning for others. It’s a powerful and beautifully written story.

[Jeni · Rating 5 out of 5]

I began reading this book on the subway home one evening; continued reading and finished it late that same night, basically in one sitting. This is one of the most compelling and harrowing memoirs I have encountered. I had to keep reading, turning the pages. It was difficult, stomach-churning to read, but it felt so urgent and imperative to do so. This story needs to exist.

This is a revised Lolita story, told from the point of the view of the victim: it explains how an 8 year girl with a troubled home life comes to care for a man 43 years her elder; it explains why she allows such a relationship to endure for 15 years. At times it is graphic and excruciating, but honest never lurid or sensational.

This memoir does not address how the author learned to cope with her stolen childhood and innocence--how she manages to move on, recover, though we know she moves on--earns her PhD, is wife and a mother. My guess, my hope is that there is a follow-up recovery memoir.

[JaHy☝Hold the Fairy Dust]

. . . An abundance of rambling to come.

[Meike · Rating 2 out of 5]

In her memoir (and only book ever published by the author who died of cancer at age 38), Margaux Fragoso talks about the sexual abuse she has suffered from the age of seven and over the course of fifteen (!) years. What makes this account of a paedophile and his victim particularly gruesome is the perspective the author chooses: The reader sees these crimes through the eyes of Margaux, the cild and later the teenager, there is minimal distance and no abstraction, but maximal detail. The author maintained that her aim was to break the cycle of abuse in her own family, but also to warn others and raise awareness, and don't get me wrong, I believe she really did strive for these important goals. The question arises though whether the way she decided to tell her story was a good call.

Fragoso explained that she didn't write to judge, and instead wanted the readers to do that themselves, and in the story, it becomes abundantly clear how her abuser Peter, who is 51 when he first meets Margaux at the public pool, exploits her dire family situation (a mentally ill mother and an alcohlic father) and manipulates her - generally, there are plenty of grown-ups who must suspect something and do nothing. Still, it is really hard to endure that the "Margaux" character tells this disgusting tale of abuse as if it was a love story. Sure, you could argue that in the situation, that was the rationalization the young girl had to psychologically cope with the situation, but this book was written by a thirty-something woman, and the voice she chose sometimes sounds self-exploitative, as if she uses her own torment to sell books by adding plenty of shock value. What ends does this narrative voice serve, why the excessive amount of detail?

What makes it worse is that unfortunately, the book is badly written, the language constantly shifting and never really adhering to the character - while Margaux grows up, how old is her narrative voice? Is she 22, did the abuse just end? That wouldn't really fit the perspective from which we see the scenes when she is younger. Formally, it's just not well thought-out, and the language is anything but literary.

So while I see that you could make an argument for Fragoso's narrative decisions (confront people with the child's perspective etc.), I personally found the book too sensationalist, choosing to discuss an appalling crime in a provocative manner (at least partly) to shift copies. I am aware that the book was very divisive upon its publication, and that there are serious literary critics on both sides of the argument (for and against the book), so if you want to find out for yourself whether this is "Lolita from Lolita's perspective", go get a copy, but be aware that this book is very hard to digest.

[Jeanette · Rating 5 out of 5]

Heart wrenching!

This book on such a disturbing subject is so beautifully written. The author is able to put you in her shoes and experience the manipulation first hand. Such an emotional, painful journey endured by one very amazingly brave little girl.

[Joselito Honestly and Brilliantly · Rating 4 out of 5]

The author Margaux Fragoso, single, 7 years old meets Peter Curran in a neighborhood swimming pool the summer of 1985. Peter, 51 years old, is married to a woman with two young boys by her previous marriage. He and Margaux fall in love with each other.

Peter makes sure that Margaux understands that society disapproves of their love because of its hypocrisy. The two then agree to keep their special a secret and develope some private codes and signals by which they can communicate as lovers without their respective families noticing.

Peter is a kind man. He reminds me of our dog of long ago named Maru. He was a very good dog but had one flaw: whenever he sees chickens he would run after them and kill them. We tried all things to make him stop killing chickens but nothing worked. Peter is like that. A good man with a major defect: he likes children, sexually, and couldn't stop being turned on by them even if he wants to.

The prose here is never vulgar or gross, although the subject matter can horrify many. Margaux is a brilliant writer, with a PhD in English and creative writing at Binghamton University. Even her sex scenes come out honest and plaintive.

She writes of how Peter first taught her to kiss him on the lips like fish would. Then with tongue inside the mouth like the French. Initially Margaux refuses to kiss Peter's erect peter, saying she knows that's where his wee-wee comes out. But then comes Peter's birthday and he makes a wish. She convinces Margaux to kiss it, then to put it inside her mouth, then to suck it like a lollipop. Peter doesn't allow himself to come. He puts peter back inside his pants at tells Marguax that is the happiest birthday of his life.

They share a secret life. They watch porn together, play together, read Nabokov's Lolita together. It did help their love that Margaux, an only child, has a father who is always out working, drinking and visiting his girlfriends. And her mother, who trusts Peter, has an on-and-off bouts with mental iillness. Margaux asks: "Without Peter to see me, to adore me, how could I exist?"

For some reason Peter never wants to penetrate Marguax. She remains a virgin until later, when both of them are a little bit much older and MARGAUX herself demands to be penetrated, wanting to have a child by him. Peter obliges. Older and ailing, he finds difficulty having an erection. But he manages to come inside Margaux. She doesn't get pregnant, however.

The love affair lasted 15 years. At one point Margaux tried to kill herself by ingesting different kinds of pills (including Immodium, the one I take for diarrhea). She didn't die. All along she continued loving Peter. Even if Peter no longer wore his false teeth, even if he grew a moustache which looked like traces of milk on his lips because it was white, even with his freckled body, she continued loving him.

Everything ended, however, when Peter committed suicide at age 66. Margaux was already 22 at that time. He left her his car (purchased on loan from Margaux's father and still unpaid) and ten suicide notes, the earliest of which was about a year before. He had apparently been thinking of killing himself for quite a while already.

She ends the book with a realization expressed: she was a victim.

[Deborah Feldman · Rating 2 out of 5]

It's difficult to criticize a memoir like this. A part of you just wants to pat the author on the back for undertaking such a difficult task. People with stories like these need to tell them, if only to help others understand, or feel understood. But somewhere in the middle of this memoir I started to get disgusted, because I could no longer swallow the "stockholm syndrome" excuse I was being sold. This memoir is certainly about a fucked up relationship, but doesn't easily fit into the category of a child abuse memoir. I got the sense that the author used her "creative license" one too many times; it made the story lack punch when it needed it most, and it made me question her credibility. There's something very creepy about reading the later scenes, where she's much older and putting in the majority of the effort in sustaining the connection to her abuser. It made me want to skim quickly to the end and be rid of it for good. There's really no redemption to this story. Having your lover/abuser's suicide be the catalyst for the end of your relationship is not redemption. Saying in an afternote that you are now married and have a family isn't either. I hate to be this harsh, if anything I'm inclined to tiptoe around this issue, but I will admit I had high expectations for this book and they were not met. I wish I had spent my twenty five dollars on something else.

[Topher Hooperton · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm a terrible book reviewer: not only is this copy atrociously late, but I'd also got the impression that the story in Tiger, Tiger, a memoir by Margaux Fragoso, somehow pertained to tigers. It doesn't.

A quick scan down the back cover revealed it's true content:

"I still think about Peter, the man I loved most in the world, all the time ... We were friends, soul mates and lovers. I was seven. He was fifty-one. They were the happiest days of my life."

It's fair to say that I was daunted by the subject matter, and the book lay shamefully unread as I worked up the courage to plough through it, somewhat nervous that it would be an Oprah's book club misery-porn special. It wasn't.

The book takes us through Margaux's troubled upbringing, to her meeting with the charming Peter with his lank grey bowl-cut, menagerie of animals and ability to make the neglected young girl feel special. The subsequent manipulation and abuse is described unflinchingly by the author, who claims in an afterword to be using the book to come to terms with what happened.

The book has been hyped as one of the most talked about autobiographies of 2011, and has been caught between reviews that applaud the author's bravery in recounting her sexual abuse, and those who have criticised its graphic, perhaps voyeuristic, depiction of events.

I found it utterly engrossing. Disturbing and unsettling, yes, but with a dazzling avoidance of self-pity and a highly nuanced view of the author's own pre-pubescent psyche.

The inner turmoil is brilliantly portrayed: Margaux's self-certainty and confidence obscures a buried fury, which finds a way to bubble to the surface in unexpected moments.

I doubt it's possible to say that reading Tiger, Tiger is a particularly enjoyable experience; it's disturbing and depressing to say the least. However, it's far more literary than your average memoir. The inner life of a very confused young girl is teased out by Fragoso's decision to avoid sensationalism, opting instead for a bone-chilling matter-of-fact tone that stayed with me for days.

(Originally published on tvnz.co.nz)

[Vanessa · Rating 5 out of 5]

This would have to be the most difficult torturous books I've ever read due to the extreme sensitive subject matter. It's unfathomable and uncomfortable in detail. Margaux writes through the lens of herself as a child which makes this story all the more powerful. It's hard to comprehend how she writes her story with a rational even tempered manner. It's clear she has some emotional detachment as she writes in an almost blasé fashion, giving her abuser a sympathetic nature. As compelling as this story was it was a struggle and was not a book I wanted to read at length, it was a consistently confronting excruciating read, but I owed it to Margaux to finish this. It is vital that we hear the often untold stories of victims of child sexual abuse from the victims point of view. We learn the mechanics of a child groomer and the levels of manipulation so required to lure an innocent, if this story helps identify a potential predator than this story has served its purpose. I applaud her bravery in writing this and shudder to thing how this can happen at all, we need to educate and understand this topic as horrific as it is and the only way is through stories like hers that explain how a relationship like this one can unfold so blatantly before the eyes of her own mother and other adults. Truly incomprehensible! What were her parents thinking???!! Her family dynamics were some of the strangest I've ever encountered, no wonder Margaux was so screwed up and because of this she happens to become the perfect prey. It shows the cycle of abuse and how it is imperative to tackle this subject openly and honestly so we an learn to stop the cycle of abuse from happening in the first place. This book sickened me, terrified me and made me want to stop reading but it also enlightened me to the depths of human spirit and how we can overcome even the worst atrocities, I can only imagine how difficult this book would have been to write and only hope she found some healing from writing it.

[Erika Lynn (shelf.inspiration) · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 Stars

“To be a sex goddess you had to view the world coldly yet treat it with overabundant affection; you had to be brashly childlike yet clearly womanly; you had to pretend you expected nothing, but in reality accept nothing less than everything; you had to tease and charm and flirt and whimper and coo and goad everyone you met.” - Tiger, Tiger.

REVIEW: Tiger, Tiger is Margaux Fragoso’s memoir about her 15 year relationship with a pedophile. When Margaux met this man, she was only 7-years-old and he 51. The book talks about Margaux’s experience throughout her life including the impact that the trauma has had on her.

This book highlights the cycle of abuse, dysfunctional family relationships, and complexities of multigenerational abuse. It is definitely a hard read, and at some points frustrating to see how each small choice the adults in Margaux’s life made, led her down this path. While this book follows her life up until the age of 22, I would have liked to see more about her life after the abuse ended, and the journey towards healing.

Overall, I would recommend this book to others who are interested in an own-voices story about being a victim of pedophilia.

SYNOPSIS: I still think about Peter, the man I loved most in the world, all the time.

At two in the afternoon, when he would come and pick me up and take me for rides; at five, when I would read to him, head on his chest; in the despair at seven p.m., when he would hold me and rub my belly for an hour; in the despair again at nine p.m. when we would go for a night ride, down to the Royal Cliffs Diner in Englewood Cliffs where I would buy a cup of coffee with precisely seven sugars and a lot of cream. We were friends, soul mates and lovers.

I was seven. He was fifty-one.

[Kelda · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was difficult to read, but so very well written. A woman's memoir of her 14 year "relationship" with a pedophile. Left feeling squirmy but also with wonder at the strength of her spirit and persevering intellect. She has created something astonishing.

[Lexi · Rating 4 out of 5]

Das Buch lässt einen verwirrt zurück . Schwere Kost , die einen nicht so einfach los lässt .

[T. Greenwood · Rating 3 out of 5]

3 1/2 stars. I remember as a kid loving the dusty old biographies and memoirs that filled the shelves at our summer cabin in Vermont. There was something so thrilling about the photo inserts: the portraits and snapshots and letters reproduced to supplement to the reading experience. This is something I have been lamenting since I started reading so many books on my Kindle. Tiger, Tiger seems like the kind of book that would beg for such supplements (photos of Fragoso as a child, black and white scallop-edged snapshots of her mother, shadowy and blurred images of Peter). Alas, neither the hardcover nor the e-version provide these longed for addendums. There is only the author photo, and I must admit that part of the reason I purchased this book was because of this singular image. In the photo, the young Ms. Fragoso sits in profile, a hopeful tilt of the head. A modest blouse. A child's face. She seems a girl arrested.

And so too, does this memoir feel somehow unfinished, interrupted. The story of a fourteen year relationship between a young girl and her molester, Tiger, Tiger is undeniably courageous, unapologetic, and terrifyingly honest. It reads like an incantation, an exorcism. It was absolutely riveting, catering to that voyeuristic tendency I suspect all readers of memoir (myself included) possess. I felt tremendous compassion and rage for this child who while so consistently failed by the adults in her life, still blames no one for her victimization. However, while the intricacies and complexities of this relationship are vividly and viscerally depicted, I feel like I wanted so much more from this story.

I guess it boils down to defining the function of a memoir. Why do we tell our own (sometimes lurid) stories? Is this meant as a cautionary tale? If so, it feels as though there is something missing here. The life after Peter's death -- her survival and ability to flourish as both a student (and, it is hinted...a wife and mother) are merely mentioned in passing. I just kept thinking of that author photo, wondering what happened after. Who is she now? If that girl in the photo would turn and speak, what would she say?

[Tara Lynn · Rating 1 out of 5]

This was a large, over-reaching waste of time.

Typically, these types of personal stories are intended to give an audience a sense of the maturity, empathy, personal growth, life struggle, and eventual peace that are eventually reached by a sexual abuse survivor. The intense struggle typically gives the reader a greater appreciation of their own life, struggles, and mental/emotional process.

This was the first time I've actively been annoyed by any narrative concerning child abuse. I would highly discourage any survivor of this type of abuse, or any other sexual abuse from reading this book. This was essentially a revoltingly detailed history of the graphic sexual abuse of a minor, written in an offhand fashion by the victim, in a way that essentially puts her abuser on a pedestal.

I have read many disturbing accounts of abuse/abusers, (including the Moralist, which was denounced for it's graphic discussion of child abuse) and I have yet to be as disturbed by any account of abuse as I was by this one.

While I can understand that many readers/reviewers may feel that this novel is a frank purge of the survivor's soul, the florid language and loving descriptions of her abuser lead me to believe that this novel is far from the cathartic memoir it was intended to be.

Fragoso states that as of the time of this novel, she's married and has a family. If I were her husband/family, I might seriously interpret this novel as a cry for help.

[Dana · Rating 5 out of 5]

Have you ever felt manipulated? Well, reading this book will make you remember that. All of that. Even if you weren't relentlessly preyed on by a hapless, weirdly charming pedophile for 12 or however many years Fragoso was, you finish reading her memoir feeling just as bad (guilty? gullible? lost? misunderstood? I'm not sure.) as if you had been. And the way she represents, so accurately, the anguish of a girlhood made neurotic by a secret life -- ugh, it's brilliant. But I never want to read it again.

[Mairita (Marii grāmatplaukts) · Rating 3 out of 5]

Margo ir 7, Pīteram 51 gads, kad viņi satiekas pirmoreiz. Kas tur savāds? Pīters ir pedofils. Ļoti grūti vērtējams autobiogrāfisks darbs. No vienas puses, var pieņemt, ka autore centusies patiesi, bez analīzes un nosodīšanas pastāstīt par savu bērnību un Pīteru. No otras puses, gandrīz liekas, ka viņa joprojām mazliet mīl šo cilvēku, kas bija viņas pasaules centrs 15 gadus. Bet tas nav šokējoši. Šokējoši ir tas, cik viegli un veikli Pīters manipulēja ar Margo, viņas ģimeni un citiem apkārtējiem. Noteikti interesanta lasāmviela psiholoģijas studentiem un varētu noderēt arī jaunajiem vecākiem.

[SusanneH · Rating 5 out of 5]

Sehr brutal und verstörend.
Mich hat es ein bisschen an "Meine dunkle Vanessa" erinnert.
Hier ist das Opfer eines Pädophilen aber sehr viel jünger und der Missbrauch geht bis ins Erwachsenenalter.
Wie manipulativ der Täter vorgeht, das ist beim Lesen teilweise kaum zu ertragen.

[Betty · Rating 5 out of 5]

I rated this five stars because I think it's an important book and because I liked the way Fragoso was able to evoke the mood of her life in the way that she did. I can't say that I enjoyed reading it and I would hesitate to recommend it because it is incredibly graphic and extremely disturbing. I have read other reviews where people denounce her for writing it the way that she did. One reviewer said something to the effect of "Her target audience is pedophiles" as though she put in the details that she did to be titillating. I understand why people feel that way and I have to disagree. One of the most upsetting things about her story is that there were so many adults around who should have realized and on some level must have known something wasn't right and yet no one stepped in and protected her. I feel that the distaste that we have for the subject matter makes it easier in a way for someone to get away with the kinds of things that happened to her. The act of turning away opens the door to that behavior, we can't believe that someone would do that and so we don't let ourselves see things that in retrospect should be red flags. Would you let your little girl be alone with someone you didn't know very well? Would you let her go into the basement with him to play with no supervision? What if he were super nice and had lots of pets and was a really good listener? What if he didn't seem like the kind of person who would do that? This book shows not just what happened but how it was allowed to happen. I think that for me I felt that if she could survive it than the least I could do was know it. Other reviewers where upset that there wasn't closure at the end or that it didn't seem like she had healed or moved on, that's not how life works though. She is going to be dealing with her past the rest of her life, her abuser was as much a part of her life as her parents were and had an even bigger part in shaping her personality. Ultimately I think what bothered people was that she talked about the fact that she loved him and never refuted that and that's uncomfortable to hear. I think the kind of person who can't understand that is the same kind of person who looks at someone in an abusive relationship and thinks, "Why don't they just leave? I would never stay with someone who did that." Fragoso's story shouldn't have occurred but it did and I think we owe it to her and others like her to listen.

[Jen]

This is a very difficult book to give a star rating to. On the one hand, it was absolutely compelling and I read it in a single sitting. On the other hand, the subject matter is frankly disturbing and I would feel wrong about giving it five stars. So I'm going to leave this one star-less.

This is a memoir (the first memoir I have ever finished) which details a woman's memories of growing up in the thrall of a pedophile. A friend's husband recommended this to me, as it was required reading on his teaching course, and I think this is an important book to read for everyone.

It is not necessarily a pleasant read, far from it as there are scenes where the author was coerced into sexual acts at the tender age of 7/8, but I have learned a hell of a lot about what it is like to be the object of a pedophile's attention, and how they can convince their victims into thinking what is happening is right.

The prologue and afterword were very interesting, as the author stepped away from the past and described things as an adult. It is very scary just how locked into the relationship she was as a young girl - thinking she wanted things to happen, but having painful physiological reactions afterwards. It was like her body knew deep down that it was all terribly wrong, but she just couldn't consciously deal with that.

I really need to think on this book a lot more. I don't really want to put it on my list of recommendations, despite how compelling it was, and I don't want to keep the book, but I do feel like this was a very important story that got told, and I think more people need to hear it to try and save future victims from suffering.

[Ernst · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ich benutze selten Worte wie verstörend oder schonungslos, aber bei diesem Roman steht das ganz oben. Verstörend, Übelkeit erregend, traurig, deprimierend. Zugleich hineinsaugend und unfassbar nahegehend, authentisch. Ich habe einige Jahre mit niemandem über dieses Buch gesprochen, weil ich mir als Leser vorgekommen bin, wie ein fieser Voyeur, der einen Tabubruch begangen hat, indem er das Buch bis zu Ende gelesen hat, ohne auch nur eine der noch so drastischen Schilderungen auszulassen. In einer filmischen Reportage wären die Gesichter und Körperteile unkenntlich gemacht, um die Opfer zu schützen. In diesem Buch gibt es keine Zensur und ich muss wohl daran glauben, dass es wichtig ist den im wahrsten Sinn des Wortes nackten Tatsachen ins Auge zu blicken. Aber das hinterlässt ein extrem zwiespältiges Gefühl. Was es so grauenvoll macht, ist die Tatsache, dass es ein Memoir ist und eben keine perverse Erfindung ala Fitzek. Es zeigt schonungslos die Perfidie des Kindesmissbrauchs, bzw. die psychologischen Tricks des Täters und die fatalen Reaktionen des Opfers.
Ich hoffe der Autorin hat es im Sinne des therapeutischen Rats geholfen, alles aufzuschreiben. Mich lässt dieses schmerzhafte Buch auch nach Jahren nicht los und ich wäre nie auf die Idee gekommen es jemandem zu empfehlen. Schon alleine deshalb weil ich das niemandem zumuten will.

Dem Stoff geschuldet verbietet sich hier fast ein literarisches Urteil, aber ich will sagen, dass es auch richtig gut geschrieben ist. Es gibt keinerlei Weinerlichkeit, kein Pathos, die Ereignisse und Verhaltensweisen und Gedanken des Opfers werden einfach sehr präzise geschildert, gerade das macht einen ja so fassungslos.

[Bonnie Brody · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is one of the most visceral and heartfelt books I have ever read. It is a brave and painful book, difficult to read but beautifully wrought. From the time she was eight years old, Maugaux Fragoso was sexually abused by a man named Peter who is 51 years old when he meets her. The abuse lasts for years and years. Peter grooms Margaux, enchanting her with his home that is filled with animals like hamsters, iguanas, a dog and rabbits. He plays with her as if he was a child. He charms her, acts like a father and pretends to give her unconditional love. However, all this time he is truly a predator, attempting to begin the sexual abuse that is initiated in earnest when Margaux is eight years old.

Margaux becomes completely dependent on Peter and believes that he is the only one in the world that loves her. At times, however, she acts out in ways that indicate she has been abused but the adults in her life do not take notice. She has fugue states, terrible anger issues, spends the nights with Peter. Margaux's mother is seriously mentally ill and encourages her relationship with Peter. Her father is physically and emotionally abusive to Margaux and to her mother. Her father, at one point, suspects that Margaux is being sexually abused, but shows no empathy. In fact, if she were to admit her abuse, he'd put her on the street. When Margaux is in high school, a social worker is called in because people in the neighborhood are suspicious of Margaux's relationship with Peter but she defends him. It is not that different from Stockholm Syndrome.

As a therapist, I understand the trauma that Margaux was experiencing and her need to believe that Peter was her love. "I was Peter's religion" she says. She would put on alter-personalities to please Peter and also to believe she had some control over him. One of these personalities is a "bad girl" named Nina. Nina acts rough and tough and streetwise with a foul mouth. She punishes Peter. At times their relationship becomes physical and Peter tries to choke Margaux, gives her a black eye and punches her in the face. "I like being Nina". "It seemed as though Peter's other self Mr. Nasty was dependent on Nina and that he needed her to survive. The favors she gave him made him feel guilty and caused him to owe favors in return. This all amounted to me being in charge" Margaux needed to feel some element of control because in reality she was under Peter's control entirely.

Peter tells her that "all men like young girls whether they admit it or not. Most guys are just dishonest about it". "If you were to openly admit, yes, I find young girls attractive, you'd be burned at the stake." Peter also tries to get Margaux to believe that she is his only 'love' but she finds out that, like other pedophiles, this is not the case. There have been others, he has been in jail, and is chock-filled with secrets that gradually come out. He brainwashes her over and over again with lies and twisted love.

Margaux begins to believe that only someone like Peter - old, without teeth, perverted - could love someone like her. She is an outcast at school and doesn't know how to interact with young people her age. All of her life is spent trying to please Peter. "What did kids my own age talk about? If they'd seen me with Peter, who would I say he was? My father? He was so old he could have been my grandfather."

I encourage anyone who is in the field of trauma or sexual abuse to read this book. If you or someone you know has been sexually abused, read this book. If you want to read a beautiful memoir written by a brave and courageous woman, read this book. It is without comparison in its forthrightness, pain and hope.

[Julie · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is such a hard book to describe or review. I literally felt sick to my stomach the entire book and every time I got done reading a bit I just felt so depressed. You wonder to yourself why I kept reading it? Well, I wanted to see how it finally ended. I wanted to read how she moved on from that experience, and eventually had a daughter of her own. THAT really didn't happen...it was over and he was gone and that was that. What a horrible thing for Margaux to go through. I felt so badly for her and really wanted to give her parents a piece of my mind. They didn't protect her, they didn't teach her right from wrong, they barely spoke to her except to yell at her. She needed some serious help, and I hope she has found some relief in writing this brave memoir. As far as Peter goes, the book cover says it "humanizes" a pedophile. NO. That did not happen for me. It's hard to think about him, even after finishing the book. There are people out there like that...and though it's true, they need help themselves that simply isn't widely provided, it's usually punished after an act has occurred. It's a hard thing to read and even harder to comprehend.

[Naomi · Rating 3 out of 5]

This is a hard book to review, as it was very difficult to read. I had to take many breaks from it, reading it just to one day be done with it, and there was no joy in finishing it. Not because of the horrific content, but because of the narrator.

I recently read Push, a novel about a girl sexually abused by both parents her entire life and impregnated by her father twice, but I loved that book, because the narrator had such a strong and determined spirit. You won't find that in this memoir. Although Push was fiction, it was autobiographical in some ways. The author was a survivor of incest and child abuse, and she had experience teaching literacy to teen girls in a program similar to the one in the book. So it felt very real, and I had to keep reminding myself it wasn't a memoir. With Tiger, Tiger I think perhaps the author wrote and published it too soon. She didn't have the perspective that comes with time and distance from trauma to craft a readable story. There was no growth for her character at all. She was a victim from the first page to the last.

The story starts when she is 7 years old. Her father is an angry but hard-working man, fond of drinking and long-winded rants. Her mother is the more tender and loving of the two, but she has paranoid schizophrenia, and due to her own sexual abuse as a child, she is still stuck at the age when the trauma occurred. She's not a responsible adult. The husband must work, cook, do housework, and care for the wife as well as the daughter, and he has no help from family. The wife is in and out of the mental hospital, and allows their daughter Margaux to run wild. She cannot even be bothered to comb the girl's hair, so the father must always keep it short.

Then they meet Peter, who is 51, and a pedophile. He lives with his girlfriend Inez, and her two sons, who are slightly older than Margaux. His home is a rambling pink Victorian filled with animals, like a zoo, and Margaux starts going over there with her mother more and more. Her mother mostly likes to go there to space out and "relax" while someone else looks after and feeds her kid. Her father's rants are actually HILARIOUS, sometimes profound, other times misguided, but Margaux mocks him for her mother and Peter's amusement.

This is of course when the grooming starts. Peter brainwashes Margaux into thinking they are a couple, secretly in love, and that no one would understand their relationship. The "relationship" lasts until she is 22, when he commits suicide, and we never do see her stand up for herself.

When she's a preteen, they start reading books together about young girls and older men. They read Anne Rice's Belinda, Marguerite Duras's The Lover, V.C. Andrews books, and of course Nabokov's Lolita. ("Though Peter complained that Lolita didn't love Humbert.")

I actually cracked up laughing at that part. Because only a monster could sympathize with Humbert, and honestly believe he "loved" Lolita. A monster is exactly what Peter was, a real-life Humbert.

They also watch school girl porn, Kubrick's Lolita, Baby Doll, and Pretty Baby, the movie that made Brooke Shields a star. She plays a 12-year-old prostitute who "marries" a man. Peter says, "Now this is like us. This is true love." Like Humbert, he continues to insist rape is about love.

This is a perfect book for Humbert sympathizers and rape apologists, because they claim Lolita "initiated" things at an age when she was obviously not able to mentally or emotionally consent to sex with an adult, and if you can't give consent, that makes it rape. Just like if you're an adult who is drugged and unable to consent. Margaux "initiated" things with Peter at age 8, when he emotionally blackmailed her into giving him a blow job. All the while, he kept insisting she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to. He even made HER give him a wink the first time, a secret code to say she was ready, before they left everyone upstairs and snuck down to the basement together. He asked her on the stairs if she wanted to go back up. It was she who pulled his pants down. So would these sick bastards still consider that consent? I hope not, but who knows. They'd probably find it "romantic." We've got some truly deranged people in this world.

By age 9, she starts getting pubic hair, which Peter of course finds repulsive. She is 9 and shaving her labia to please a man..... I can't even put into words how vile that is.

She oscillates between hating him and acting out because of her emotional pain, and loving and needing him because of the attention he gives her. At one point, her father grows suspicious. He has insisted on meeting Peter, and thinks him strange but harmless, until a lifeguard spots him kissing Margaux on the mouth. Her father forbids her to see him anymore, and she begins starving herself, because she's so upset she can't hold food down anyways. She has a lot of repressed memories and she blanks out in school. She starts reading adult romance and horror novels at 9, because she can't relate to innocent girls like Deenie in YA fiction. She was exposed to adult sex before she was even able to process it.

Then at age 11, she starts visiting Peter again with her mother's encouragement. Her father really cannot control what the mother does, but insists that she watch Margaux and never leave her alone with Peter. He thinks that Inez, the girlfriend, is a vigilant parent, and that Margaux plays with her sons. Of course Inez and her mother are both incompetent (it later comes out that Peter molested one of her sons, but Inez refuses to believe it). So Peter performs oral sex on her. She compares it to his tongue being a paintbrush, and herself just being a wall. She gets no enjoyment out of it, but of course Peter is completely oblivious to that.

At 12, she starts her period, and he refuses to go down on her anymore, telling her she has a "womanly smell." He still makes her give him hand jobs and blow jobs, and talk dirty to him about her being an 8-year-old with a tight hole while calling him Daddy. She is scared to stop, knowing their entire relationship is built on this, but she makes him give her money—so he knows she doesn't enjoy it, it's a sacrifice she's making. That was another part that reminded me of Lolita. She's merely trying to assert herself in the smallest way possible, but some would say she was "manipulating him." She said:

"If Nabokov's Humbert Humbert was right and a nymphet was a charmed, charming, supple girl between the ages of nine and fourteen, I was fast reaching the end of my nymphdom. Since nymphets, for Peter, seemed to bud around seven, it was possible that, for him, they lost their luster even sooner. When Peter was out, I spent a lot of time gazing at the pictures contained within the oval frames on his walls, most of them taken when I was eight."

By the time she's 13, he won't even look at her face anymore. He just makes her lay flat on the bed while he rubs himself against her shaved labia, pretending she's younger. But really, she's too old for him. Their "relationship" only continues because she knows his secrets, so he doesn't let her go. Instead, he confesses all his disgusting crimes to her, because he has no one else he can tell. He'd tortured and killed animals as a kid. The first time he molested anyone, it was his 9-year-old niece—but he says it was she who seduced him, of course. He had four daughters he was sexual with, but he said it was "innocent" and "they seemed to enjoy it as much as he did." (Later we find out he raped at least one of the daughters, and none of them have forgiven him or speak to him. He also got foster daughters taken away from him for sexual and physical abuse, although he lied to Margaux about it).

The most ironic part of this horror story is how he first got her to take her clothes off when she was 7 or 8. He said it was sick the way her father pulled her pants down to spank her, when he just wanted to pull them down to love her. He even tried to pressure her mother into divorce, saying the father was abusive. He continuously told Margaux her father didn't love her or care about her. Yet, after he got Margaux to give him a blow job, he started hitting her. During the course of their relationship, he strangled her, suffocated her with a pillow, punched her in the face and bloodied her nose, gave her a black eye, slapped her, and twice broke the windshield of his car from punching it during an argument. His biggest fear was her telling on him. When she attempted suicide at 16, he was more worried about what her note said and if it revealed him than the fact that she had wanted to die. He didn't seem relieved that she survived.

She also seemed to believe that he wanted to stop having sex with her because he felt bad. Really, he wanted to stop because like Humbert, he found teenagers to be old unattractive hags. He didn't sleep with Inez either, lying and saying it was because he was Catholic and they weren't married. So he gave Inez permission to sleep with other people, much as he did with Margaux, although he also tried to isolate her. She thought it was just jealousy. I'm pretty sure it was him not wanting her to reveal the truth to someone she got close to.

One thing I think she did a great job of capturing is how ashamed she was. Really, girls in these situations aren't inclined to tell boyfriends. It's humiliating. When people in town would talk about her being with this old man all the time, and ask if they were "fucking", she was so embarrassed she switched schools.

Yet, I really feel like Margaux wrote this still more angry at her father than Peter. And I don't get that. He wasn't a perfect father, no one is, but he really was trying his best. He never abused her. He tried to spend time with her, take her out, have talks with her. He tried to say the right things when she was sad. She clearly rejected him for Peter, and didn't understand how that was hurtful to him as a parent. He couldn't do anything with her, not even make her go to school when she was a teenager, and she preferred Peter who didn't try to make her go.. Not getting that he didn't give a damn about her or her future. She even blamed her father for her mother's mental illness! No, seriously. She really thought her schizophrenia would disappear if he was out of their lives. She never acknowledged he was the one responsible parent holding her life together, she just resented him for giving her rules. She tried to get Peter to impregnate her so her father would leave, and she could live happily ever after with her mom and her baby. I realize she was a child then, but she NEVER acknowledges how crazy this was, or seems to forgive her father. Yet, clearly, she forgives Peter. She was still "close" with him when he died.

And worst of all, in the end, she defends all pedophiles, saying they can be cured with antidepressants as Peter was. She really thinks THAT was what made him uninterested in sex with her. She doesn't get that he didn't want sex with her because she was 22. He couldn't even have sex with her at 13 unless she talked like she was 8 and he didn't look at her. If he was taking antidepressants and they were so effective, why did he jump off a cliff?

She never tells us how things went with her father, if they were ever able to repair their relationship or remain estranged. It was definitely she who pushed him away, though. She ends it by saying she's married and has a daughter, but we never learn what happened between the then of Peter's death and the now of her seemingly normal life. I can't help but think this book would've been much better if written after a few more years of intense therapy and self-reflection. I truly respect her bravery and honesty in telling her story, an important story that needed to be told, but as a piece of literature it doesn't quite work. Both novels and memoirs need character growth and a resolution.

[Liv · Rating 4 out of 5]

Overview:

Tiger Tiger is an astoundingly well-crafted memoir that provides a haunting and intimate account of Margaux Fragoso’s traumatic childhood, weaving together vivid prose and raw emotion. Fragoso’s writing talent shines through every page, allowing readers to become deeply immersed in her experiences. The narrative is so captivating that one can easily forget it is a memoir, often feeling more like a work of fiction in its emotional resonance and storytelling.

Fragoso’s ability to articulate her feelings and experiences is remarkable, providing a glimpse into the complexities of her young life, including the relationships that shaped her. Her prose captures the nuances of childhood innocence and the darker shadows that can accompany it, reflecting the author’s profound connection to the stories that fueled her imagination. This connection to literature becomes a vital thread throughout the memoir, showcasing the solace and escape that storytelling provided her during turbulent times.

While the pacing of the book is generally steady, there are moments when the emotional weight of the subject matter can make it a challenging read. However, this difficulty is precisely what makes the memoir impactful, forcing readers to confront the realities Fragoso faced.

Despite the heavy themes, Tiger Tiger is ultimately a celebration of resilience and the power of storytelling. It leaves a lasting impression on the reader, highlighting Fragoso’s extraordinary talent and the complexities of navigating trauma. Her passing a few years ago is a great loss to the literary world, but her work continues to resonate and inspire. If any future writings by her become available, they would undoubtedly be worth seeking out.

R.I.P. Margaux Fragoso.

[Judith · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a memoir by a woman who was sexually molested and raped by an older man who was a "friend of the family". At the tender age of 8, the author met Peter ( the pedophile) who was 51. For the next 14 years, until he committed suicide at the age of 66, they were together on an almost daily basis, and for most of that time, he was sexually molesting her. You may think you've heard/read enough about child abuse by now. But this book has a unique perspective.

The author has an incredible eye for details and the narrative transports the reader back to childhood. Real childhood---not the Hollywood version with precocious children acting adorably. She also has a pitch perfect ear for dialogue. Each character comes alive through their language and it feels like you are in the room with them. It's as if the author had tape recorded these conversations and replayed them in the book. As horrid as the villains in this story are, I couldn't help but feel pity for them, and I think this is because the author was so skilled at conveying the complexities of the personalities involved.

At the same time, because the tone is not vindictive, my empathy and compassion for the author/victim is so overwhelming. While reading this book, I wanted to reach through the pages and pull her out of harm's way. And I was grateful that she tells us in the prologue that the pedophile killed himself because I would have been looking to strangle him myself otherwise. I hope the author had a ton of therapy and that she has a happy life and a successful career.

[Crystal · Rating 2 out of 5]

At first, I really liked it, then it just got weird. Ok, so according to the author, its a true story. It very may well be HOWEVER, I do not feel its necessary into go into the amount of detail she did about her childhood sex abuse. There are ways to get the point across without doing what she did. Im speaking primarily about the conversations she had with her abuser and the play rolling conversation they had. Completely unneccesary and really gross. I realize, that child sex abuse is gross, and that its not a pretty subject, I just think it could have been done a little less offensively. I have read that people feel she is honoring her abuser and uplifting him in this book, and I somewhat agree with that. However, maybe she has no hate for him; perhaps because they spent so much time together like father/daughter that it is hard for her to have ill feelings about him. I do not pretend to understand it, but whatever. Read with caution. The Afterword was pretty interesting though. One thing that annoyed me and caused me to give it such a low rating, was the babbling that her father did; the ranting and raving, and philosophizing. It got old real quick and I found myself wanting to skip over much of his banter.