By Tom Gamble
An idealistic younger Englishman, Harry Summerfield, befriends an American oil explorer in Gibraltar within the Thirties. Their assembly sparks a trip for either males to be able to take them throughout Morocco and northern Africa, to come across the cruel realities of Berber competition to French colonial rule and the fervour of a love for a similar younger French girl. choked with motion, personality and terribly shiny neighborhood color, this can be a large novel ofadventure and romance which retains the reader guessing web page after web page.
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Additional info for Amazir: A Novel of Morocco
It was the year Wilding’s job took him outside the States, a brief stop over in Europe before setting to work exploring for oil in French and Spanish Mauritania. It was also the year he first met Harry Summerfield, in a bar in Gibraltar, in May. As an American, Wilding viewed the whole European scene as practically theatrical. To a large extent, he was shrewd enough to understand that his ideas were shaped by a mix of cultural preconceptions, the satirical cartoons in the US press and Chaplin’s grotesque spoof, the Great Dictator.
They are French, they are Spanish. You are British. And I believe that the British hold certain opinions about their frères ennemis across the English Channel? Am I wrong? I believe you are a person who values equality, Sidi Harry. And I also believe that you consider yourself more like us, the Moroccans, than either the French or Spanish and despite the colour of our skin. All foreigners empathise—and that is the great irony of it all. ’ They sat for several minutes in silence. Another two customers entered, greeted them and chose a room on the opposite side of the lily pond.
How right Summerfield was to be. The next morning saw Wilding and Summerfield on the ferry, chugging across the Straight to Tangiers. On the subsequent journey through the Spanish enclave on the northern coast to Casablanca—a gruelling train ride of forty-two stops, a public whipping and numerous hold ups due to herds of goats invading the tracks—Summerfield showed Wilding some of his journals in which he wrote and sketched. Wilding whistled through his clenched teeth. Summerfield’s command of style was impressive—at least, impressive for him, a scientist by nature.