Tiger, Tiger by Margaux Fragoso

Tiger, Tiger

by Margaux Fragoso

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.

Reviewed by boghunden on

3 of 5 stars

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I was expecting something else from this book. I thought it'd be a lot of disturbing descriptions etc., but it wasn't. Not that much, at least. Instead, I was kind of understanding Margoux, and why she did what she did, and chose like she did. I was even wondering that if it was my life, maybe I would've taken just as much shit as she did? The sad thing isn't her relationship with the pedophile. It's her dad. He's the sad thing. And that's the worst about this book!
I'd like to know how she coped after this book takes place. What about her dad, does she still see him, talk to him? I have a lot of questions left that weren't answered throughout this book, but maybe it isn't possible to answer them all. After all, it's life. You don't get answers to everything.
As "The Globe and Mail" puts it: This book reminds us that pedophiles are like the rest of us: they buy cereals, walk the dog and do gardening. And that's exactly right!
This is a must read, if you ask me. It's both a sad and beautiful story. Read it!

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Reading updates

  • Started reading
  • 6 July, 2011: Finished reading
  • 6 July, 2011: Reviewed