When I told people that I would be spending six weeks studying abroad in Morocco, I was met with a gamut of responses. Many lauded the great food while some melted under the thought of the potentially excruciating summer heat. Others fretted over issues of safety and terrorism. Few failed to ask the most pressing question of all: “Why Morocco?” I didn’t have any clear answer for them. I certainly knew little about the culture outside of half-baked travel blogs and opinionated word-of-mouth commentary from my ritzy Persian neighbor. So, when I was instructed to read the novel A House in Fez by Suzanna Clarke before leaving on my trip, I was thrilled. The memoir follows the Australian journalist’s journey in her haphazard decision to buy and restore a house in the ancient Fes Medina. Throughout the book, she hails the importance of restoring the crumbling Fassi Medina through traditional methods in order to maintain its deeply rooted cultural integrity. In documenting this process, she reveals to her audience a picture of the daily Moroccan lifestyle, a view that the average tourist might miss on a whirlwind tour of the city. However, upon arriving in Morocco and living in Fes, I quickly came to realize that Clarke’s illustration hinges on the shock and moments of horror of a Western audience which obfuscates the true vibrancy of Moroccan life, scratching only the surface of the rich and complex culture.
Enchanted by the fast paced and affable residents of the intricate and labyrinthine Fes Medina, Clarke decides to purchase her own home in the area. Many of the available places are rundown, not having been changed for hundreds of years. Clarke becomes fixated on restoring an old Moroccan home to ensure the heritage of the city persists. In a risky move out of her budget, she along with her husband Sandy decide to purchase a riad from an old couple. Like any home renovation, the refurbishment of her riad is met with a myriad of frustrating challenges. Many of these snags are not necessarily those originating from the home itself, but rather in dealings with the flighty Moroccan locals. She highlights the nuisance of ever-present language barriers owed to her basic knowledge of French and lack of Darija, the colloquial Arabic derivative in Morocco. Clarke is vigilantly attentive to ensure that no one swindles her for being a foreigner, and micro-manages her seemingly incompetent workers so that the job is done to her liking. Her run-ins with the local bureaucracy often leave her feeling helpless and dejected and her dealings with neighbors show her struggle to integrate with an age-old society. Despite this, she manages to become intertwined with the local community getting to know other Europeans and expats as well as the coquettish and liberal Ayisha, an independent university student with hopes to get out of Morocco.
The more that Clarke’s story ruminates in my mind, the more problematic and inadequate the picture it paints becomes. Her relentless harping on the threat of being overcharged and issues that arise from her ethnicity frames the Moroccan culture particularly negatively. After finishing her book, I began to rethink my travels. “What have I got myself into?” I fussed, knowing it was too late to even begin thinking about cancelling. I was scared to go to a place that seemed hellbent on taking advantage of me. The moments of shock provided from skirmishes with merchants and contractors, such as Hamza and Abdul Rahim, keep the reader flipping pages, but it does very little to encourage anyone else from following in Clarke’s steps. Her characterization of Ayisha also shows a lack of care when portraying the perception of women in Morocco. Ayisha acts as a tool to help build Clarke’s “exotic” narrative. Her constant flirting and out-of-place “smoldering” and seductive personality describe Ayisha as foolishly trying to emulate the Western woman her culture forbids her to be (244). Clarke finds her dreams to be reckless and inappropriate. She lacks any empathy for her position and is always commenting on her sticking out. Still, numerous people whom she meets and talks do not fit the traditional Moroccan mold. Many of them are expats and fellow Westerners who have gone through similar situations as Clarke’s. While it might not be any fault of her own, she seems to have few friends who are actually local to her new living arrangement. This makes it feel as if she has been planted there, not integrated with the community she claims to love.
Perhaps it is not the details that Clarke chose to include in her story, but rather those she opted to omit that make her story scant. As she shines a less than favorable light on the Moroccan people, seldom does she ever offer some consolation. Where is the charm and amiability that drew her to Morocco in the first place? We hear it as a sort of legend as she neglects to show her readers these moments of kindness and warmth. That is not to say, however, that the entirety of A House in Fez is without merit. Despite its issues, it is a book everyone should read before their first visit to Morocco. It is important to be aware of those who will con you and to be able to recognize the sometimes-striking differences from Western sensibilities. The book does a respectable job of underlining these issues in a way that is both engaging and informative. The photographs she includes to document her experience also help to build a sense of familiarity with the culture and give life to her narrative. The most important thing, however, that she does is show an appreciation for the Moroccan culture. Her primary goal is to respect the architecture, the history, and the customs of the land on which she lives. This is invaluable to any traveler. Not only must they recognize that the culture of the place they are going is different, but they must also understand why they should welcome that culture and its differences.
A House in Fez is not the perfect book about Morocco; however, I don’t believe that the perfect book can be written. Clarke’s memoir is a great place for travelers and those interested in Moroccan culture to start. It should be used as a platform from which to spring to new material that dives deeper into the intricacies of the culture, be it religion, history, or art. The novel provides a brief overview of the daily Moroccan lifestyle and offers an inside look into a culture that might be very foreign to many travelers. Although, the often exaggerated and fearmongering moments of the book should not be taken as fact. When making any big decision, it is always important to get multiple opinions, and when reading this novel, we must realize that Clarke’s image of Morocco is only her own interpretation of a culture as complex as the heart of the Fes Medina.
Clarke, Suzanna. A House in Fez: Building a Life in the Ancient Heart of Morocco. Pocket Books, 2008.
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