Libro que no cumplió mis expectativas. Resulta tedioso y he saltado muchas paginas de relleno sobre el folklore local. Sobre los tigres hay bien poco (casi Nada). ( )

Well done, but a bit repetitive and a little too much of other stuff besides the tigers. I didn't read it to find out about their religion. ( )

There was some interesting stuff in this book, but it was too repetitive to feel like I needed to read all the way to the end. (Yes, I get it, the sundarbans are half-water/half-land, the two embrace each other like a lover; the tiger is a mysterious animal). My poor rating is partly a matter of high expectations. There is a lot of "travel diary" type writing in here and descriptions of religious ceremonies. ( )

I get to be Library Thing's first reviewer for "Spell of the Tiger"? Suh-weeet!

An amazing animal adventure story from a place I knew nothing about. Sundarbans mangrove forest on the eastern border of India is a watery place where the tiger is the undisputed Lord of the Jungle, a place where men enter at their own great peril. I have to say, I think this is probably a real boon for the landscape there. We humans have such a bad habit of messing up the ecosystem in the name of profit.

I had thought that man-eating tigers were usually old, sick, injured or slow, driven to eat long pig or starve; and that Siberian tigers were always more aggressive than the Bengals. How wrong I was. What a thrill of horror I have given my listeners with accounts of tigers leaping onto boats from the water, breaking down doors and making off with their man-prey before anyone can react. That the people of Sundarbans know that tigers can easily carry a human corpse away because it curls up like a shrimp when the tiger clamps its jaws on the back of the neck. Only the big toe drags upon the ground... I felt I really understood what the author meant when she wrote she had realized that her body was made out of meat. This is a deeply moving experience for someone like me who is used to thinking of herself as being on top of the food chain instead of lunch.

My only complaint is not really the author's fault. The tigers were so elusive during her visits to India, the book is perhaps overpadded with religious stories about Bonobibi, Sha Jungli, and Daksin Ray, the tiger god. All of which is well and good, except that what I really wanted to read about was more first-hand accounts about tiger sightings. On the other hand, perhaps it is good that Daksin Ray allowed Sy Montgomery to return to the United States and write about meeting the tiger so that we armchair travelers could be informed.

I must track down the Nat Geo "Spell of the Tiger" show.