Books like Tangerine

When I lounge on the beach at an exclusive Caribbean resort, I typically lift my Pina Colada in a toast to my ancestors before taking my first sip. Vanessa Riley’s book increased my respect for the exploited and enslaved black women who lived in the Caribbean during the late 18th and early 19th centuries.

My heart broke with the emotional and psychological trauma and physical dangers that Doll endured to save herself and her children. The intrigue and suspense kept me riveted, constantly wondering how Doll would overcome her challenges. Riley tells a beautiful story of the least likely underdog, Dorothy "Doll" Kirwan Thomas, who survived despite the injustices and became one of the Caribbean's wealthiest and most influential entrepreneurs.

Give me an array of spicy Indian food, a handsome hero, and a good Bollywood movie, and I’m set for the evening. But this book transported me to a different period in Indian history. I teetered on a cliff's edge as the intrigue and drama of Lin’s tale unfolded. 

The story moves from one heart-stopping incident to another as it transitions through the gritty criminal underworld, congested streets, and overcrowded slums of India in the 1980s. It gripped me from the beginning and kept my earpods glued to my ears until the end. It was one of the most compelling biographies I’ve ever listened to.

Nigeria is the largest country in Africa and is filled with conflicting and contrasting customs, rituals, and institutions that have tentacles that reach deep into its modern society. I find it hard to close a gripping psychological thriller. Still, in this book, even Philip Taiwo, the criminal psychologist sent to investigate the murders of three college students, has psychological problems of his own that have to be addressed. 

I love books that use the psychology of human behavior as the basis to unravel a crime. In this book, I glimpsed a sector of Nigerian society I didn’t know existed. Kayode’s book was filled with heart-thumping intrigue and so many twists and turns that I couldn’t stop listening.

I find it hard to resist stories about female gangsters. Heather Webb scoured the pages of history to tell the story of a gang of kick-ass bad girls called the Forty Elephants led by the infamous ‘Diamond Annie’ in London in 1925. 

What I loved about the story was that while Annie was fighting for respect in London’s male-dominated crime world, the first female detective at Scotland Yard assigned to bring them to justice was fighting for respect in the law enforcement profession.

Intelligent, unapologetic, and fearless women are my kind of girls, and Annie and her gang demonstrate true sisterhood as they rise to become Britain’s first female crime syndicate.

The books I like about certain places tend to be written by people who have not been born and raised there. It’s because the author has detachment, which makes their sense of observation all the keener. But, best books about places seem to be by authors who have some ancestral connection to that place. It’s as though they’re attached to it through their genes. Saeida Rouass, was born in London to Moroccan parents. From the very first line on the very first page of her book Assembly of the Dead, you can feel she’s not English, but rather that she’s connected by some magical alchemy to Morocco, the land of her ancestors. Rouass is a dazzling writer, one who bridges East and West in the most exceptional and unusual way.

Reluctant Reception is a worthwhile read in that it addresses refugee policy from the perspective of Egypt, Morocco, and Turkey, three states located in the Middle East and North Africa. Norman argues that, like other states in the Global South, these states are often perceived as transit countries for migrants and refugees, who ultimately want to reach Europe. Norman shows, however, that these states’ lack of a strong formalized refugee policy hides the fact that political and economic interests play a major role in informing their response to migrants and refugees.

Norman also shows that apparent disinterest in migration is part of a deliberate strategy that countries in the Global South use in order to have international organizations, as well as Western governments (the latter being keen on limiting migration from the Global South), provide for the basic costs of hosting migrants and refugees. Reluctant Reception not only … show more.

This book is so intelligent that it gave me chills, but it’s also a literary page-turner. I adored the married couple at the center of the story for trying to use their very big brains to solve the problem of the emptiness they were feeling, which, spoiler alert, didn’t work, but it did lead to clever dialogue and some profound observations.

One of the themes in the book has to do with time, and the quote that haunts me the most is, “How many more times will you watch the full moon rise? Perhaps twenty. And yet it all seems limitless.” Somehow, this nihilistic book left me marveling at the preciousness of life.

Shah, a self-proclaimed “broke writer,” somehow affords a Moroccan mansion with maids, gardeners, and endless renovations. He doesn’t bother to develop his wife and kids as characters—they get even less attention than an extra in a movie. But at least you get to see Morocco through his self-obsessed eyes, which, fortunately, pay a lot of attention to detail. His immaculate use of sensory details will give you a traveling experience for even less than a Ryan Air flight. The book is a prime choice for anyone who wants to dive into Moroccan culture with all its superstitions. 

This is an amazing book!

Ben Jelloun was a political prisoner in Morocco for several years and was imprisoned in a dark cell in the ground in unimaginably horrific conditions. This book demonstrates politics gone wrong and the extent of the brutality that can be ravaged on other human beings in a system lacking justice or any sense of human rights and dignity.

Despite the intensely inhumane conditions of imprisonment, Ben Jelloun carries us along his journey and offers his readers an inspiring account of endurance and courage.

This book needs to be read by people in an era of democratic backsliding because it helps to demonstrate some of the things that are at stake when electorates become tempted by authoritarian leaders.

Far too many foreigners, myself included, have rocked up in Morocco and set to work recording versions of traditional tales for an outside audience. Almost all of them have realized that, what they imagined would be a straightforward exercise, was a near-impossible feat. One of the few European writers who have succeeded, and succeeded exceptionally well, is BBC reporter Richard Hamilton. As I read The Last Storytellers, I marvelled at how well he succeeded where so many others failed. The reason is that Hamilton has two qualities in abundance: patience and sensitivity. Reading the stories he presents takes me to the central square in Marrakech, Jma al Fna. I can see it, feel it, smell it, and, most importantly, I can hear the storytellers there recounting tales that pre-date A Thousand and One Nights.