This is basically a bildungsroman set in the years just before Morocco regained its independence from colonial rule in the mid-20th century. Some of it is charming, as we follow the adventures of young Namouss exploring the medina, meeting a good many interesting characters, spending time with his father in the saddlery shop, avoiding his mother's tirades, and getting an introduction to languages at the Franco-Muslim school. Reading it was also a frustrating experience for me, however, as the underlying Moroccan history that should inform the story is unknown to me. Some references to the past, to politics, or to cultural and religious practices were given end notes, but a great many were not. I found my efforts to do quick informative research on the internet often met with less than helpful results, and I was simply thrown out of the story too frequently for me to enjoy it on its merits. I also think there are some translation issues, as an occasional sentence seemed to have no meaning in context. I won't rate the book, given that most of the failing here is mine, and YMMV. ( )

Beautifully written by Morrocan poet Abdellatif Laâbi, this autobiographical novel is based on his childhood in Fez during the 1950s. Having recently read Laâbi's memoir [Rue du Retour], the account of his eight and a half years in prison for "crimes of opinion" and his struggles to reintegrate after his release, I found reading this lyrical and gentle story an interesting counterpoint to the brutality depicted in his philosophical memoir.

The book opens with an adult narrator reuniting with his family at the time of the fall of the Berlin wall. As he waits for his brother, who has a complicated relationship with the family, the narrator's thoughts return to his childhood, beginning when he was seven or eight. Nicknamed Namouss (Mosquito) by his playmates for his flighty inability to keep still, the narrator relates vignettes of family life, going to school, exploring a wider section of the ancient city, and peripherally notes the beginnings of a nascent movement against the French colonizers and for national liberation.

I particularly liked his descriptions of encountering French for the first time, his early love for books and desire to own them, and the descriptions of the souks and winding streets of the ancient city of Fez. He depicts his family with affection, and it seems that the book is in a way a tribute to them. His father is a saddle maker and works hard to support his family, yet finds time to teach young Namouss to swim. His mother is prone to dramatic outbursts and outrageous claims, but lives for her family and is happiest when the center of her bustling household.

Although there are no great philosophical insights or denouements in the story, it is a pleasurable glimpse into a time and place that no longer exists. And if things are seen through rose-colored glasses, it is perhaps a balm for the troubled soul that spent his young adulthood in prison. ( )

The heart of this undoubtedly semi-autobiographical novel is the delightful story of a young boy, Namouss, living in Fez, in Morocco, apparently in the early 1950s. The independence movement against the French is getting underway, but leaves the boy and his family largely untouched in the central part of the book which is told in the third person. However, this story of Namouss's childhood is bookended by the narrator, writing in 1989 in the first person, watching the fall of the Berlin Wall with his aging father and recounting, at the beginning, the tale of his older brother's marriage and, at the end, the impact of the independence movement. Laâbi, a leading Moroccan poet, novelist, and playwright, was imprisoned by the Moroccan government in the post-independence era, and a literary journal he started banned; he lives in exile in France.

The novel poetically captures the sights, sounds, and smells of Fez and its medina (or walled section) and souks, as well as the characters of Namouss's family, including his mother Ghita with her vivid and creative complaints and comments, his hardworking and patient father Driss, and a strange but entertaining uncle, among others. Through "Radio Medina," or word of mouth, everybody knows everything that is happening. The family is Muslim, and so the reader learns about the way women must cover themselves up when nonfamily members are around (in fact, Namouss's mother rarely seems to go out on her own; her husband, a saddlemaker by trade, sends food home for her to cook). The pranks Namouss and his friends engage in are entertaining, and the few trips the family takes outside Fez to the countryside reveal the beauty of the natural landscape.

Namouss is thrilled to go to school and enchanted by learning new words, a poet in the making, no doubt. As the first person narrator says towards the end:

"The sky was never quiet for long in Fez. You only had to bother looking at it. Why did it fascinate me so much since I had never heard the word "poetry" and could only muster "stars" to describe the myriad celestial bodies glistening in the night heavens?

My word hoard was a meager, meager affair. The inability to pin down the objects in my mind and say "you are called this, and you that" infuriated me. And since I have recognized you and named you with my own mouth, come now, stop being so mysterious, follow me. Jump into my pocket and let's go! You will be companions during my journey, my confidantes, and should we encounter danger along the road, you will become the tongue of my cry and the instruments of my courage." p. 204

The residents of Fez apparently think highly of themselves compared to both other Moroccans and the French colonialists. At the very end of the book, the older Namouss imagines his now dead mother saying, about the fall of the Berlin Wall, "A falling wall . . . it can't have been built very solidly. The walls of Fez are still standing after all."

This is a charming and sweet novel written by a well-known Moroccan poet. I loved the characters and enjoyed reading about the historical details of the colonial conflict and the desire for independence. Overall, this is a great read. ( )

Set in the Moroccan city of Fez at the end of French colonial rule in the mid-1950s, this autobiographical story is charming, nostalgic and smart. Written by one of Morocco’s great poets, Abdellatif Laabi, the tale paints a sweetly melancholic portrait of a young boy’s education in a middle class family that seemed both comfortable and idyllic.

The Bottom of the Jar teems with memorable characters, beginning with our hero, Namoussa, the youngest son in a middle class Fessian household; his suffering mother Ghita, both wise and foolish in equal measure; his quiet, retiring father Driss, a saddlemaker in the medina; his older brother Si Mohammed and new wife, the enchanting Lalla Zineb. Uncle Touissa brings his kif and all-night stories; his French teacher brings discovery and stretches the border of Namoussa’s understanding of the world; the hot sun brings picnics in the shade of a public garden, and life is lived and goes on...

The conflicts engendered by colonial rule and the independence movement are overlaid with a subtle palette that does not overwhelm this coming-of-age story but instead adds greater purpose. Laabi spent many years in prison as a result of his outspoken activism. ( )