Secret Son

"Secret Son" is the story of one young Moroccan's struggle for self identity in the midst of a society that is undergoing economic, political and cultural changes, albeit changes that are not enough to keep up with the country's population growth and aspirations. It could easily be the story of similar individuals in any number of developing countries, and in fact, echoes one such tale in the memorable recent Egyptian novel, "The Yacoubian Building." As poignant and uncomfortable as Youssef El Mekki's story in "Secret Son" is, it is an engaging one, beautifully told by Moroccan writer Laila Lalami. Lalami knows her country and its modern society well and has created wonderful characters in Youssef, his mother, Rachida, Youssef's friends Amin and Maati, and the Amrani family members. A wonderful cautionary tale that makes a great read. Highly recommended.

Laila Lalami manages to capture many of the challenges that face young men growing in North African and Arab countries in this wonderful story of a Moroccan young man. I don't want to give away the story, but the young man grows up thinking that his father is dead, and gradually learns the true story of his family. In the process he struggles with the volatile dynamics of modern Morocco, including his education, relationships with women, money, political Islamic groups, upper and lower classes, lost souls who smoke hashish or sell themselves for money. The book takes us on quite a roller-coaster ride with emotional highs and lows, as his dreams for a better future rise and fall. The book also describes the broken idealism of people who make compromises as they grow older, and those who choose to escape through emigration. I felt that this story could be in Egypt, Iraq, or another Arab country as much as it is in Morocco. Even though it touches some issues particular to Morocco like the Berber/Arab issue. The young man struggles to find his identity through a tough and merciless life. The story has some political angles and intrigue as well. It touches on women's issues, class struggle, religious extremism, hypocrisy of the upper classes, desparation of the lower classes, the suffocating dynamics of a traditional society, and many other aspects of life in Arab countries. It's amazing how the author managed to navigate through all these issues through the story. I really liked this book. The style is easy to follow and captures your attention. I finished it in one weekend. I recommend it for any one who wants to learn something about the challenges of growing up in North Africa and the Middle East

Youssef El-Mekki grew up in Casablanca, in the slums of Hay An Najat where houseflies "grazed on piles of trash, competing with cows and sheep for tea grounds, vegetable peels, and empty containers of yogurt." One young man by circumstance, another by birthright, at nineteen Youssef learns shocking details about his real father that thrust him into a world of sudden luxuries, luxuries that at once elevate his circumstances and separate him from the places and people he loves. Amal Amrani, by contrast, grew up a daughter of privilege and means. When she moves to the States and defies her wealthy parents' wishes, she is cut off both emotionally and financially. Later, in a gesture of reconciliation and renewed support, her parents cross the ocean to witness her graduation. Amal holds the door open for them at the end of a visit, "forgetting that Moroccans do not open doors for departing guests for fear of giving the impression that the guests are unwelcome." It is a striking symbol of how much her new life has changed her. Exhibiting two very different approaches to filial duty, Amal reluctantly returns to Casablanca to reestablish her position in the family, leaving her new love behind in the States; Youssef embraces his newfound father's world of wealth and status, leaving his mother behind in the slums. Repercussions from the secret that Amal and Youssef have both borne for years---each without knowing it---ultimately cause them to question the very foundations of duty, loyalty, and love. In the end, both must choose. Both must declare their allegiance. Unfortunately for Youssef, his choice (which is no choice at all) hastens his descent into a shadowy religious underworld where faith is a weapon and all believers must be tested. At its heart, Secret Son is a gorgeously rendered and heartbreaking tale of longing and belonging, of finding---and also leaving behind---the people and places we call home.

In this superb short novel, Laila Lalami deftly limns the rise and fall of Youssef El Mekki, unacknowledged bastard son of prominent businessman, disillusioned activist, and bon vivant Nabil El Amrani. Seemingly sprung from the trap of the Casablanca slums when he learns that his father, far from being dead, is in fact a Moroccan tycoon, Youssef is soon caught in a complex web of familial and political intrigue. A mark of this novel's quality is its ability to portray what for many Americans is the mildly exotic culture of Morocco while also convincingly revealing the ways in which both Americans and Moroccans are enmeshed in their own cultural contexts (a point illustrated in another fashion by Malcolm Gladwell's recent Outliers). While each character acts as though autonomously, behind the apparently simple interactions among the characters lies a complex web of human relationships, cultural relationships, and sometimes sinister motivations, which Lalami gradually unveils. Lalami's lean style, unsparing eye, and tight construction mean not a word is wasted in this elegant depiction of the book's all too human characters and its damning indictment of the cruel forces that manipulate them.

Youssef and his mother Rachida live in a one-room house with no windows and a tin roof held in place by stones in a Casablanca slum. When it rains, the roof leaks. When it's not raining, they live in the yard beneath a sky as spacious as Youssef's dreams. When it rains, they carry their life back inside the whitewashed house: the divan, the food bowls, the clean clothes off the line, and the black and white photograph of his father that hangs in the yard above the divan. The young man who forever smiles out of that old photograph was in his 20s, not so many rears older than Youssef is now as he prepares to enter college in Casablanca. He thinks often about the man in the picture who died in an accident, his mother told him, when Youssef was two; he was a well-respected man, a dedicated school teacher and, as Youssef learns a few pages into Laila Lalami's powerful debut novel, an invention. As Rachida's secrets unravel, the following facts emerge: Youssef is the product of his mother's affair with a married man, a man who is not only very much alive, but a wealthy and influential Casablanca businessman. While his doting mother is content to play the role of the grieving widow, as Youssef sees it, and to eke out a living in a slum, he is now free to escape from all that's been denied him into a life of achievable dreams. Against his mother's wishes, he leaves the windowless house to discover his true identity. While she prays her son will make something of himself by staying in college, he has set his sights on greater things. He leaves Rachida's whitewashed house with food for thought: when the rains came, a volatile Islamic fundamentalist group called "The Party" brought aid to the flooded slum while the state handed out promises it would not keep. Readers of Lalami's collection of short stories released in 2006 may reflect on the title of that highly acclaimed volume, "Hope and Other Dangerous Pursuits," as Youssef makes his way through a labyrinth populated by corrupt commercial interests, inept government employees, "The Party," and news media with a spider web of conflicting agendas. Lalami's prose and plot in Secret Son are devoid of moralizing and sentimentality, and therein lies the power of her story. The story is not unkind; it's ardently realistic. While the conclusion of Youssef's essentially illegitimate journey into the treacherous world outside his claustrophobic station is by no means predictable, it's as inevitable as Icarus' fall from the spacious sky. Malcolm R. Campbell, for POD Book Reviews & More