|
Review by Bruce Tierney
Perched at the northwest tip of Africa, just a short ferry ride away from Spain and Gibraltar, Tangier is one of the great cosmopolitan centers of Morocco. Cultural influences as diverse as French, Spanish, Moorish, Arabic and West African affect virtually every facet of life: the architecture, the food, the clothing, the little day-to-day rituals and routines that make up one's life. Tangier houses a community of expatriate writers, artists and musicians seeking their muses in the laid-back, sunny and inexpensive backstreets of the medina. And, of course, no mention of Tangier would be complete without a brief mention of its, um, herbal component, revered among hippies the world over.
For some 17 years, from the early 1960s to the late '70s, author John Hopkins called Tangier home; during his stay he kept a journal, "The Tangier Diaries 1962-1979," documenting his activities and his musings on a broad range of subjects. Hopkins hobnobbed with such luminaries as William Burroughs, Paul Bowles, Alec Waugh, Malcolm Forbes. One memorable New Year's Eve he went with friends to Marrakesh to meet the Beatles: "Don't know what they lace the majoun with down here. Last night Paul and Talitha Getty threw a New Year's Eve party at their palace in the medina. Ira, Joe and I went to meet the Beatles. John Lennon and Paul McCartney were there, flat on their backs. They couldn't get off the floor let alone talk. I've never seen so many people out of control."
Aboard his snow-white BMW motorcycle nicknamed The White Nile, a literary homage to Alan Moorehead's book on the exploration of the great African river, Hopkins and various members of his entourage combed the back roads of Morocco in search of adventure.
"The Tangier Diaries 1962-1979" offers an insightful and good-humored look at an exotic port and its equally exotic expat residents, a veritable Who's Who of hipness. Hopkins' writing style is literate yet conversational and accessible. He spins a simile or a metaphor with the best of them: "Whining Arab music oozes like hot oil through the dusty silence . . . A peaked dune of sand casts a sawblade shadow . . . "
A 1998 winner of the coveted BookPage "I-read-it-in-one-sitting-because-I-couldn't-put-it-down" award.
©1998, ProMotion, inc.
Support your