Morocco was almost an impulse for me and yet somehow, I’ve been here more than three years – one thing for sure, it’s NOT My Morocco. This is a chronicle of how much this country baffles, confuses and makes me crazy. While Morocco is certainly my wife’s country – it will never be mine and for that, I’m incredibly grateful.
Many memoirists always seem to be pleading for their audience’s approval or admiration, putting the best possible spin on their actions and thoughts, with a “Do you like me? Will you like me?” and if they do detail an ethical lapse, it’s with a joint “I learned so much and am now a better person/Do you still like me?” Some experiment with the “I’m unapologetic about who I am and what I want” stance, but underneath, you can still hear the whispered, “But I’ve got good qualities, too, and you should at least like those.” This is one of the very few that I’ve read that could genuinely be called “unapologetic.”