Introduction

“Andrea Leeb’s powerful memoir, Such a Pretty Picture, is an immensely compelling, tender, honest, and ultimately courageous reckoning with abuse, betrayal, and the false promises of new starts.”—Caryn Mirriam-Goldberg, Kansas Poet Laureate Emeritus, and author of The Magic Eye: A Memoir of Saving a Life and Place in the Age of Anxiety

For readers of I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy and The Glass Castle by Jeanette Walls, a candid and heart-wrenching memoir about child abuse, family secrets, and the healing that begins once the truth is revealed and the past is confronted. Andrea is four and a half the first time her father, David, gives her a bath. Although she is young, she knows there is something strange about the way he is touching her. When her mother, Marlene, walks in to check on them, she howls and crumples to the floor—and when she opens her eyes, she is blind. Marlene’s hysterical blindness lasts for weeks, but her willful blindness lasts decades. The abuse continues, and Andrea spends a childhood living with a secret she can’t tell and a shame she is too afraid to name. Despite it, she survives. She builds a life and tells herself she is fine. But at age thirty-three, an unwanted grope on a New York City subway triggers her past. Suddenly unable to remember how to forget, Andrea is forced to confront her past—and finally begin to heal. This brave debut offers honest insight into a survivor’s journey. Readers will feel Andrea’s pain, her fear, and her shame—yet they will also feel her hope. And like Andrea, they will come to understand an important truth: though healing is complicated, it is possible to find joy and even grace in the wake of the most profound betrayals.

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Excerpt

Chapter 1

It began the first time my father gave me a bath. That night, a Saturday in late September 1962, my parents had plans to meet friends for dinner in Manhattan. “A date,” my mother said, even though they were already married.

I stood in the bedroom I shared with my sister, Sarai, watching my mother slip a pair of footed pajamas over her feet. Once my mother finished with her, it would be time for my nightly bath. My favorite part of the day, and the only time I knew for certain I would get my mother’s undivided attention.

“Andrea,” my mother said after she tucked Sarai into her crib, “I asked Daddy to give you a bath while I get ready.” She petted the top of my head.

Hiding my disappointment, I forced a smile. My mother seemed so excited. We lived in an apartment in Queens. Although my mother loved Manhattan—the real city, she called it—she rarely went there. When she did, she always had me, age four and a half, and two-year-old Sarai in tow.

“Daddy wants to give me a bath?” I bit my lower lip.

My father, who taught English at a local high school and went to graduate school at night, was hardly ever home before I went to bed. On the few nights he came home early, he sat alone in the living room listening to records or reading thick books and drinking from glasses filled with ice and a clear liquid that looked like water, but was called gin.

My mother laughed. “Of course, he does. Daddy loves you.”

Taking my hand, she led me into the bathroom. Dressed in a freshly pressed white T-shirt and boxer shorts—my mother ironed all of our clothing, even our underwear—my father stood in front of the sink. He turned and smiled at us. Tall and dark, my father had straight white teeth and a wide smile. If not for a chip on one of his front teeth, his smile would’ve been perfect.

“Be a good girl for Daddy,” my mother said, giving my hand to my father as if I were a gift.

Alone, my father and I stared at each other. “Come on, cutie. Let’s get this bath going.”

I undressed while my father ran the water. I watched him adjust the knobs and stick his hand under the faucet.

“Tell me if the temperature is okay for you,” he said once the bathtub had filled.

Naked, I bent down and stuck my hand into the water. It felt warm but not too warm.

“Good,” I said.

“Remember to speak in sentences. It is good.”

“It is good,” I repeated.

“That’s my smart girl.” My father picked me up and pressed my body against his chest. He smelled like limes and laundry detergent. His freshly shaved face felt smooth.

He had a dot of shaving cream on one side of his face. “You missed a spot.” I put my finger on the dot.

My father laughed, gave me a sloppy kiss, and lowered me into the tub. “I almost forgot your duck.” He grabbed a yellow rubber duck off the bathroom shelf. The duck was Sarai’s, not mine; I considered myself too old for a rubber duck. But happy for his attention, I took it.

My mother had left a pink washcloth on the edge of the tub. I soaked it and rubbed it with soap, just like she’d taught me. I stuck my head under the water, then scrubbed my face and my neck with the washcloth.

My father knelt next to the bathtub. I couldn’t see his hands or his legs, but he seemed to be squirming.

“Daddy?”

His eyes met mine. “Play with your duck, and let Daddy wash you with his hand.” He reached into the bathtub and took my washcloth away from me. “Doesn’t that feel nice,” he said, running a hand over my body.

I didn’t answer him. He rubbed my neck, my chest, my legs, and then the place in between. He didn’t use soap, and he used only one hand. His breathing grew fast and heavy.

“The water’s getting cold,” I said. It was a lie, but my father’s breathing scared me. The way he touched me felt strange: good but not good.

He didn’t respond, so I said his name again, louder this time. I slid closer to the wall to get out of his reach. I wanted to stand up. To jump out of the tub.

I heard the click of my mother’s heels before I saw her. Petite and delicate, my mother had thick mink-brown hair, porcelain skin, and sharp, fine features with high apple-shaped cheekbones. Everyone said she looked like a movie star. She hadn’t finished getting ready, and wore only a full black slip, sheer black stockings, and high heels.

“David, what is taking so . . .” She didn’t finish her sentence. “Oh my God, what are you doing?”

My father jerked his hand away from me. He bent down slightly and yanked the waist of his boxer shorts. He scrunched up his face. I couldn’t tell if he was angry or scared. Or both.

“David!” My mother’s voice sounded the way it did when she thought I was about to run into traffic.

My father stood up and, as he turned to face her, she screamed again. A scream without words; sharp and shrill, more like a howl than a scream. I’d never heard anyone scream like that.

Too afraid to move, I clutched the duck. Suddenly, my mother’s legs went out from under her. She crumpled like a paper doll. My father caught her before her head hit the tile floor.

“Mommy!” I screamed. “What’s wrong with Mommy?” I started to cry.

“Shut up and get out of the goddamned tub.” Kneeling on the floor, my father held my mother’s limp body against his chest. He was so big and she was so small; she looked like a child in his arms. “Marlene, wake up. Please wake up.”

My legs wobbled as I climbed out of the tub. I wanted to throw up. Looking at my mother lying in my father’s arms, I thought she was dead. I thought we had killed her.

“David,” she whispered after a few seconds.

Hearing her voice, my tears came faster. “Mommy.” I wanted to go to her, but my father blocked me with a hand.

“David, I can’t see anything,” she said, her voice growing louder. “I’m blind.” view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

From the author:

1. The first story Leeb tells of her childhood is that of her father sexually abusing her in the bathroom. Although Andrea is only four-and-a-half she knows there is something strange about the way her father is touching her. When her mother walks into the bathroom check on them, she hollows and crumples to the floor—when she opens her eyes, she is blind. Why do you think Andrea opens with that story, and how does it set the stage for the rest of the memoir?

2. In her book, Andrea tells us that her sister Sarai was not sexually abused by her father. “I’d convinced myself that, like a twist on the story Demeter and Persphone, my mother had surrendered one daughter to Hades in exchange for another?” How did it make you feel to see her mother protecting one daughter but not the other?

3. Marlene often tells her daughter’s that "Your father loves you?” Do you think that she believed that when she said it? Did you?

4. There are many heart wrenching scenes in Such A Pretty Picture. Aside from the bath scene which scene touched you the most and why?

5. Andrea’s writing style is economical, never overly dramatic and at times almost clinical. She has stated that given the inherent drama in the subject matter she chose to make the language as economical and accessible to the reader as possible. Did she achieve that goal?

6. Reviewers have noted that Such A Pretty Picture is both literary and novelistic. Do you agree with that characterization? Do you think the novelistic style works?

7. Discuss what you think of Marlene? What were her strengths and weaknesses? Do you think her failure to protect her daughters was as bad or worse than David’s abuse?


8. In interviews and podcasts, Andrea says that inspired to tell her after reading the stories that other sexual assault survivors wrote during the #MeTooMovement. She has said that it is her greatest hope that her memoir will help other survivors to tell their stories and to know that with therapy healing is possible. Do you think that she achieved that goal? Why or why not?

9. Andrea dedicates the book to her sister, Sarai. Describe Andrea’s relationship with Sarai, and the role that these girls played in each other’s lives?

10. The memoir begins with a child point of view and shifts to a teenager then to a young woman and finally ending when Andrea is thirty-three.? How would you describe the shift in the narrator’s tone?

11. Throughout the book and Andrea’s childhood there were other adults (teachers, psychiatrists) who saw that Andrea was suffering but did not intervene. This was in the 1960’s and 1970’s, do you think things are different today? How and why?

12. Were you surprised to learn that, as an adult, Andrea chose to keep Marlene, and by default her father in her life? What do you think of this decision and why do you think she made it?

13. Andrea finally gets help after an incident on a New York City subway. She goes to therapy and then to a twelve-day inpatient rehab. While in the inpatient program she develops a close relationship with another patient-a man named Bob. What did you think of their friendship? Were you disappointed to learn that they never saw each other again?

14. Many reviewers and readers have commented that despite everything Andrea is nonjudgmental about her parents—especially her mother. Did you find this to be true? Reading this book were you able to be equally nonjudgmental?

Weblinks

»	Publisher's book info
»	Author's website
»	Review from Los Angeles book review
»	Review from Seattle book review
»	Daily mail article

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