Review by Rebeccaej -- Gates to Tangier by Mois Benarroch
[Following is a volunteer review of "Gates to Tangier" by Mois Benarroch.]
The Benzimra family has just lost their father. Upon reading the will, they discover he’d had an affair in their hometown in Morocco and left a child behind. Together for the first time in years, four of the six siblings return to Morocco in search of their half-brother.
That is the premise of Gates to Tangier by Mois Benarroch, but it isn’t the story. The Benzimra family represents the Sephardic diaspora. Most of the family moved to Israel in the 1970’s, except for the oldest son who was already living in Madrid. Some stayed in Israel as adults, and others left for Paris or New York. They speak different languages, live in different socioeconomic classes, and have learned to resist, or assimilate to, different types of prejudices. Each chapter is written from a different perspective: some consider only their own experiences, while others muse on the nature of Jewish history and culture. Together, it weaves into an exploration of Sephardic Judaism throughout the Western world. What does it mean to be “Jewish,” in France, as opposed to “Sephardic,” or “Moroccan” in Israel? How did the Jewish population fit into Northern Africa before they were expelled, and what has become of it in their absence? Gates to Tangier explores this history in an intimate, non-linear way.
There’s another layer as well. This is also a book about the messy process of story creation. One of the characters is a writer, and it’s strongly implied that he is the one writing this book. Chapters from other characters’ perspectives are interspersed with chapters where the author struggles with his experience and tries to figure out the best way to write it. It’s like an Escher drawing. The reader watches the book write itself.
As an exploration of Sephardic identity, I really liked Gates to Tangier. The material is accessible to anybody with a basic knowledge of Jewish culture (so long as they are willing to pick out meaning from context), and it explores a part of history that isn’t often discussed in America.
As an art piece displaying the creation of a story from raw material, I found it fascinating. The only way I can think to describe it is “naked.” It exposes the aspects of storytelling that many writers are afraid to admit.
There is one part, though, that almost killed the book for me. At one point, a character discovers an aspect of her medical history that changes the way she thinks about herself. It’s too much of a plot point to explain in any detail, but it is a real condition with devastating results. In the most famous case, the patient committed suicide.
In Gates to Tangier, the character in this situation is confused, but turned on by it. Immediately after discovering it, she goes home and rapes her boyfriend—not out of anger or malice, but from overwhelming arousal. Given that the preceding scene introduces the idea that men don’t fear rape, I have to assume that the author understood what he was writing. It is never addressed as rape, though, and there no consequences for it. If anything, the male character enjoyed it.
I struggled to understand this scene for a while. Benarroch clearly meant it as rape, as he went out of his way to put the idea of male rape in the reader’s head. Yet, he doesn’t treat it as rape in the narrative. It comes across as weak, clumsy writing. Benarroch is not that kind of author. The rest of this book is too well-written, the complex style handled too deftly, for this to be a clumsy accident.
The author-character, however, is established as not being a particularly strong writer, especially in prose. This book is an artistic representation of his rough draft and the experiences and thoughts that created it. Later, the author-character reminisces about the trip (knowing nothing about the medical situation or the events that follow) and thinks, “That doesn’t make a book. There’s no story there…What must be invented to make a story that the readers believe?”
I was ready to abandon this book, and I’m glad I didn’t. The Escher-like style partially redeems it. I still wish Benarroch hadn’t used a medical tragedy to turn a character into a rapist, but if it’s meant to represent the sort of bad idea that is normally erased in the second draft, then it’s somewhat forgivable. As I said, this book is naked. It exposes the side of writing that writers try to hide.
Overall, I give Gates to Tangier 3 out of 4 stars. There are a few typos and editing errors. It is also confusing to follow, but that’s a deliberate style choice. If you try to pry a linear story out of it, it will frustrate you. If you let it bend your brain, trust it to give up its own story, in its own time, then it’s worth the read.
******
Gates to Tangier
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That is the premise of Gates to Tangier by Mois Benarroch, but it isn’t the story. The Benzimra family represents the Sephardic diaspora. Most of the family moved to Israel in the 1970’s, except for the oldest son who was already living in Madrid. Some stayed in Israel as adults, and others left for Paris or New York. They speak different languages, live in different socioeconomic classes, and have learned to resist, or assimilate to, different types of prejudices. Each chapter is written from a different perspective: some consider only their own experiences, while others muse on the nature of Jewish history and culture. Together, it weaves into an exploration of Sephardic Judaism throughout the Western world. What does it mean to be “Jewish,” in France, as opposed to “Sephardic,” or “Moroccan” in Israel? How did the Jewish population fit into Northern Africa before they were expelled, and what has become of it in their absence? Gates to Tangier explores this history in an intimate, non-linear way.
There’s another layer as well. This is also a book about the messy process of story creation. One of the characters is a writer, and it’s strongly implied that he is the one writing this book. Chapters from other characters’ perspectives are interspersed with chapters where the author struggles with his experience and tries to figure out the best way to write it. It’s like an Escher drawing. The reader watches the book write itself.
As an exploration of Sephardic identity, I really liked Gates to Tangier. The material is accessible to anybody with a basic knowledge of Jewish culture (so long as they are willing to pick out meaning from context), and it explores a part of history that isn’t often discussed in America.
As an art piece displaying the creation of a story from raw material, I found it fascinating. The only way I can think to describe it is “naked.” It exposes the aspects of storytelling that many writers are afraid to admit.
There is one part, though, that almost killed the book for me. At one point, a character discovers an aspect of her medical history that changes the way she thinks about herself. It’s too much of a plot point to explain in any detail, but it is a real condition with devastating results. In the most famous case, the patient committed suicide.
In Gates to Tangier, the character in this situation is confused, but turned on by it. Immediately after discovering it, she goes home and rapes her boyfriend—not out of anger or malice, but from overwhelming arousal. Given that the preceding scene introduces the idea that men don’t fear rape, I have to assume that the author understood what he was writing. It is never addressed as rape, though, and there no consequences for it. If anything, the male character enjoyed it.
I struggled to understand this scene for a while. Benarroch clearly meant it as rape, as he went out of his way to put the idea of male rape in the reader’s head. Yet, he doesn’t treat it as rape in the narrative. It comes across as weak, clumsy writing. Benarroch is not that kind of author. The rest of this book is too well-written, the complex style handled too deftly, for this to be a clumsy accident.
The author-character, however, is established as not being a particularly strong writer, especially in prose. This book is an artistic representation of his rough draft and the experiences and thoughts that created it. Later, the author-character reminisces about the trip (knowing nothing about the medical situation or the events that follow) and thinks, “That doesn’t make a book. There’s no story there…What must be invented to make a story that the readers believe?”
I was ready to abandon this book, and I’m glad I didn’t. The Escher-like style partially redeems it. I still wish Benarroch hadn’t used a medical tragedy to turn a character into a rapist, but if it’s meant to represent the sort of bad idea that is normally erased in the second draft, then it’s somewhat forgivable. As I said, this book is naked. It exposes the side of writing that writers try to hide.
Overall, I give Gates to Tangier 3 out of 4 stars. There are a few typos and editing errors. It is also confusing to follow, but that’s a deliberate style choice. If you try to pry a linear story out of it, it will frustrate you. If you let it bend your brain, trust it to give up its own story, in its own time, then it’s worth the read.
******
Gates to Tangier
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