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The Last Chapter
This thought-provoking, semi-autobiographical book tells the story of Aisha, a young Moroccan woman, and her struggle to find an identity in the Morocco of the second half of the twentieth century. Charting Aisha’s path through adolescence and young adulthood up to the present, her story is told through a series of flashbacks, anecdotes, and glimpses of the past, all bound up with a strong, often strident, always compelling worldview that takes in Morocco, its politics, people, and traditions, Islam, and marriage. Male–female relationships feature strongly in the narrative, and by exposing us to Aisha’s troubled romantic encounters, Abouzeid uncovers the shifting male/female roles within the Morocco of her lifetime. Many aspects of Moroccan society are also explored through the other clashes of the modern and the traditional in Aisha’s life. The workplace and corruption, the struggle for women’s rights, the clash between Islamic and Western values as well as with the older practices of sorcery and witchcraft, and the conflict between colonial and native language use are all intertwined in a narrative that is both forceful and often poetic. Through a series of tales of emotional disasters, the reader becomes aware not only of Aisha’s frustrations but also of her deep commitment to her country and her struggle to defeat suffering, uphold justice, and retain a fierce independence as a woman and a clarity of conviction in her life.
Leila Abouzeid is a pioneer among her Moroccan contemporaries in that she writes in Arabic rather than in French and is the first Moroccan woman writer of literature to be translated into English. This stimulating and revealing book adds a new perspective to Maghrebi women’s writing, and is an important addition to the growing body of Arab women’s writing in translation.
Leila Abouzeid is a pioneer among her Moroccan contemporaries in that she writes in Arabic rather than in French and is the first Moroccan woman writer of literature to be translated into English. This stimulating and revealing book adds a new perspective to Maghrebi women’s writing, and is an important addition to the growing body of Arab women’s writing in translation.
168 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2000
12 people are currently reading
290 people want to read
About the author
Leila Abouzeid
10 books44 followersLeila Abouzeid (Arabic: ليلى أبو زيد) is a Moroccan fiction writer.
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Displaying 1 - 21 of 21 reviews
July 4, 2016
خيّب آمالي ..لم تعجبني لغته ولا حتى طريقة السرد والحوار اعتقد اني تكارمت جداً بمنحه نجمة واحدة ..لا انصح بقرائته
July 27, 2016
Is there anything worse than a sour spinster? I guess it is a fanatic muslin – not good looking – sour spinster. I couldn’t help myself from loathing this woman for her hatred against Western culture and women in general. I think that the publicity she had as the first Arabic woman writer translated into English is all about her fanatics biased ideas. Actually a judgmental sour spinster… I pity all the smart women who live in her country.
September 1, 2019
مع الصفحات الأولى للرواية توقعت أن تكون على الأقل جيدة؛ لكن مع توالي الصفحات تحول حماسي إلى ملل في انتظار الانتهاء منها لعل الأحداث تتضح هذا ان استطعنا القول أن في رواية أحداث.
لم أتعرف جيدا لا على الراوية و لا على أحبائها أو خطابها لا شخصيات قوية تذكر .
أعتقد أنها خشت الإسهاب فقدمت لنا رواية مبتورة الأحداث و التسلسل
لم أتعرف جيدا لا على الراوية و لا على أحبائها أو خطابها لا شخصيات قوية تذكر .
أعتقد أنها خشت الإسهاب فقدمت لنا رواية مبتورة الأحداث و التسلسل
November 12, 2024
i enjoyed reading the first chapters, as you dwell in aisha’s youth, her feminist sentiments intertwined with her anticolonialism. however, by the time she starts reminiscing of al andalus, reflecting on arab colonization & how it differs from israel’s occupation, she makes the following statement “[on arab colonization] true, such colonization did not bring the scale of refugee camps, deportations, imprisonments, and home demolition, that define israel today”. you know which other colonization brought all that? the moroccan occupation of western sahara. some chapters back, she boasts about her sense of self criticism toward herself and her country. yet she calls the occupation “retrieval of our sahara”, and argues with the sahrawi man she meets, karim, i think he’s called, “the sahara is an integral part of the moroccan territory”. the book feels like a constant teasing, with each page she alludes to colonization you think to yourself- she might even reach the conclusion that her country is doing the same to sahrawis that israel is doing to palestinians. how come an educated and intelligent woman, is incapable of drawing such parallels, while being so close to doing so?
won’t even mention her stupid snarky comment about polisario. or whatever the author thought she was doing by bringing a sahrawi from tindouf and making him work at the moroccan ministry of foreign affairs. inconsistencies all around.
moroccans need to understand that it’s also best for their interests to open their eyes to the propaganda and focus on their internal affairs. the grandiloquence of your supposed national cause, your litmus test for everything, is nothing but a made up distraction so your eyes are closed to what your government allows & commits in your own country.
in summary, this is why her anticolonialism, like that of most moroccans, means nothing to me as a sahrawi woman. you don’t get to pick and choose to whom you apply your “anticolonialist lens”. it is a matter of having principles and growing a spine. this is why we have little allies amongst them.
won’t even mention her stupid snarky comment about polisario. or whatever the author thought she was doing by bringing a sahrawi from tindouf and making him work at the moroccan ministry of foreign affairs. inconsistencies all around.
moroccans need to understand that it’s also best for their interests to open their eyes to the propaganda and focus on their internal affairs. the grandiloquence of your supposed national cause, your litmus test for everything, is nothing but a made up distraction so your eyes are closed to what your government allows & commits in your own country.
in summary, this is why her anticolonialism, like that of most moroccans, means nothing to me as a sahrawi woman. you don’t get to pick and choose to whom you apply your “anticolonialist lens”. it is a matter of having principles and growing a spine. this is why we have little allies amongst them.
January 12, 2020
the most disappointing thing that a supposedly anti-colonial, feminist book (which doubtlessly this book is, for the most part) can do is support colonialism, and therefore the continued oppression of women, *other* women. i picked up this book because it is one of the few (as far as i know) that directly addresses the question of the western sahara, though in a tangential sort of a subplot. not that i was expecting to see the autonomy of the sahrawi people be celebrated and honored in a book of this characteristics (ehem, this *author*, for we naturally have few allies among the moroccans), but i couldn't even read till the end, so exhausted i was of the unnecessarily inflated anti-polisario propaganda sprinkled through the book.
the latter is mainly expressed through the main character, Aisha (page 94: "I supplied [my Sahrawi friend] the official explanation, that the Sahara is an integral part of the Moroccan territory, but he was not buying it." and that's it. like this is not an version of what france said about morocco and algeria, what englad said about india, what belgium said about the congo, in 1889? okay).
what is most disappointing though is that Aisha's interventions during her semi-political conversations with her Sahrawi lover are eerily reminiscent of neocolonial eurocentric rhetoric: she pushes her anti-sahrawi-determination narrative in the name of an anti-misogynistic and individual autonomy sentiment, supposedly. but in doing so she perpetuates stereotypes of backwardness, lack of agency, and proto-terrorism of the sahrawi independence movement, ultimately denying sahrawi's right to be free of moroccan occupation. so there you go. i'm not finishing this book.
the latter is mainly expressed through the main character, Aisha (page 94: "I supplied [my Sahrawi friend] the official explanation, that the Sahara is an integral part of the Moroccan territory, but he was not buying it." and that's it. like this is not an version of what france said about morocco and algeria, what englad said about india, what belgium said about the congo, in 1889? okay).
what is most disappointing though is that Aisha's interventions during her semi-political conversations with her Sahrawi lover are eerily reminiscent of neocolonial eurocentric rhetoric: she pushes her anti-sahrawi-determination narrative in the name of an anti-misogynistic and individual autonomy sentiment, supposedly. but in doing so she perpetuates stereotypes of backwardness, lack of agency, and proto-terrorism of the sahrawi independence movement, ultimately denying sahrawi's right to be free of moroccan occupation. so there you go. i'm not finishing this book.
September 22, 2021
Intriguing, yet confusing read.
I was thrilled to find a novel by a Moroccan female author originally written in Arabic, as this seems to be quite rare. Nonetheless, I stumbled upon a copy of it in my beloved public library.
I dove into it not knowing anything about it and while this reads quite fast, three narrative is quite bewildering. There is a lot of jumping back and forth and it is often not clear who is speaking to whom. For instance, it was not clear to me that the last chapter was written from the perspective of the former classmate of Aisha (only two girls out of a class of 42) who suffers from an unhappy marriage (and an oppressing husband and a mother-in-law controlling them with magic).
Another reason why I was lost has got more to do with me as a reader than with the novel or Abouzeid. I feel like I missed some key notions to really grasp what critique was really given. I also struggled to reconcile modernism and feminism with the religious stance and defense of traditions by the narrator.
I was thrilled to find a novel by a Moroccan female author originally written in Arabic, as this seems to be quite rare. Nonetheless, I stumbled upon a copy of it in my beloved public library.
I dove into it not knowing anything about it and while this reads quite fast, three narrative is quite bewildering. There is a lot of jumping back and forth and it is often not clear who is speaking to whom. For instance, it was not clear to me that the last chapter was written from the perspective of the former classmate of Aisha (only two girls out of a class of 42) who suffers from an unhappy marriage (and an oppressing husband and a mother-in-law controlling them with magic).
Another reason why I was lost has got more to do with me as a reader than with the novel or Abouzeid. I feel like I missed some key notions to really grasp what critique was really given. I also struggled to reconcile modernism and feminism with the religious stance and defense of traditions by the narrator.
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March 20, 2019I strongly recommend this book for those who know nothing about The French colonialism and decolonization.
May 31, 2024
* Morocco
"This thought-provoking, semi-autobiographical book tells the story of Aisha, a young Moroccan woman, and her struggle to find an identity in the Morocco of the second half of the twentieth century.
Charting Aisha’s path through adolescence and young adulthood up to the present, her story is told through a series of flashbacks, anecdotes, and glimpses of the past, all bound up with a strong, often strident, always compelling worldview that takes in Morocco, its politics, people, and traditions, Islam, and marriage. Male–female relationships feature strongly in the narrative, and by exposing us to Aisha’s troubled romantic encounters, Abouzeid uncovers the shifting male/female roles within the Morocco of her lifetime. Many aspects of Moroccan society are also explored through the other clashes of the modern and the traditional in Aisha’s life. The workplace and corruption, the struggle for women’s rights, the clash between Islamic and Western values as well as with the older practices of sorcery and witchcraft, and the conflict between colonial and native language use are all intertwined in a narrative that is both forceful and often poetic. Through a series of tales of emotional disasters, the reader becomes aware not only of Aisha’s frustrations but also of her deep commitment to her country and her struggle to defeat suffering, uphold justice, and retain a fierce independence as a woman and a clarity of conviction in her life.
Leila Abouzeid is a pioneer among her Moroccan contemporaries in that she writes in Arabic rather than in French and is the first Moroccan woman writer of literature to be translated into English. This stimulating and revealing book adds a new perspective to Maghrebi women’s writing, and is an important addition to the growing body of Arab women’s writing in translation".
Above is the synopsis of the book, it is just so detailed and says everything I want to in the most amazing way so I included it. Sometimes I felt the political parts went a bit over my head but that is my personal lack of understanding/knowledge. It was honest and raw and the frustration came across. Abouzeid gives me a glimpse in to another life very different likely from mine. I think anyone living with constraints has to be admired when they heroically come forward and lay out their life for all to see and that is why books like this are important.
"This thought-provoking, semi-autobiographical book tells the story of Aisha, a young Moroccan woman, and her struggle to find an identity in the Morocco of the second half of the twentieth century.
Charting Aisha’s path through adolescence and young adulthood up to the present, her story is told through a series of flashbacks, anecdotes, and glimpses of the past, all bound up with a strong, often strident, always compelling worldview that takes in Morocco, its politics, people, and traditions, Islam, and marriage. Male–female relationships feature strongly in the narrative, and by exposing us to Aisha’s troubled romantic encounters, Abouzeid uncovers the shifting male/female roles within the Morocco of her lifetime. Many aspects of Moroccan society are also explored through the other clashes of the modern and the traditional in Aisha’s life. The workplace and corruption, the struggle for women’s rights, the clash between Islamic and Western values as well as with the older practices of sorcery and witchcraft, and the conflict between colonial and native language use are all intertwined in a narrative that is both forceful and often poetic. Through a series of tales of emotional disasters, the reader becomes aware not only of Aisha’s frustrations but also of her deep commitment to her country and her struggle to defeat suffering, uphold justice, and retain a fierce independence as a woman and a clarity of conviction in her life.
Leila Abouzeid is a pioneer among her Moroccan contemporaries in that she writes in Arabic rather than in French and is the first Moroccan woman writer of literature to be translated into English. This stimulating and revealing book adds a new perspective to Maghrebi women’s writing, and is an important addition to the growing body of Arab women’s writing in translation".
Above is the synopsis of the book, it is just so detailed and says everything I want to in the most amazing way so I included it. Sometimes I felt the political parts went a bit over my head but that is my personal lack of understanding/knowledge. It was honest and raw and the frustration came across. Abouzeid gives me a glimpse in to another life very different likely from mine. I think anyone living with constraints has to be admired when they heroically come forward and lay out their life for all to see and that is why books like this are important.
May 5, 2020
I think if I were more educated in the areas of Islam, colonisation and women's issues within those realms, I would have gotten quite a bit more out of reading this than I did. As a Western garden-variety Christian, I was a bit lost and, eventually, glad to be done with the book.
In a series of set pieces, Aisha is either the protagonist or spoken about by others (in the final story) as she navigates life as a Muslim feminist. The things she finds offensive are confusing to me. In one vignette she upbraids a man for making insinuations about women on the beach wearing bikinis, and then later she makes those same insinuations (and he calls her on it). The issue is not resolved. We are made to understand that she is the smartest person in most rooms, but not credited for it due to her gender. The most urgent question anyone has for her is "why are you not married?"
The character is strident, harsh, judgmental and, quite often, furious at what she sees around her. There seemed to be no resolution, no point. She begins angry when she is falsely accused of something, and remains angry through to the end. Nobody, and nothing, is good enough for her. Blame it on colonisation, on men, or on magic being imposed upon her life; the end result is the same.
In a series of set pieces, Aisha is either the protagonist or spoken about by others (in the final story) as she navigates life as a Muslim feminist. The things she finds offensive are confusing to me. In one vignette she upbraids a man for making insinuations about women on the beach wearing bikinis, and then later she makes those same insinuations (and he calls her on it). The issue is not resolved. We are made to understand that she is the smartest person in most rooms, but not credited for it due to her gender. The most urgent question anyone has for her is "why are you not married?"
The character is strident, harsh, judgmental and, quite often, furious at what she sees around her. There seemed to be no resolution, no point. She begins angry when she is falsely accused of something, and remains angry through to the end. Nobody, and nothing, is good enough for her. Blame it on colonisation, on men, or on magic being imposed upon her life; the end result is the same.
January 31, 2018
A very interesting book by the Moroccan Islamic feminist Leila Abouzied. The book contains many themes that are specifically related to the Moroccan patriarchal vision, which is unconditionally backed by some of the most humiliating cultural proverbs, has held sway over the majority, if not all men in a country that is supposedly Islamic. The theme of colonialism is probably the predominant one, since it is the motherboard of the paradox Moroccan males are subject to. Problems like lack of identity and schizophrenia are also prominent in the novel and are given their due share. Amid all of these difficulties, the young girl Aicha (A Living Human) experiences the aftermaths of above-mentioned dilemmas.
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May 30, 2022Trying to read more books written by Moroccan women that are translated in English. There's not a ton out there, but I did come across this one at a bookstore. Perhaps it was the translation but the reading experience was not very enjoyable. I learned a little but the writing was not very good so it was a chore.
June 16, 2017
This was really an eye opening book into the struggles of the women who came before me and how we are defined by the amount of men who want to love and marry us and how the women in our men's lives ultimately define our relationships.
November 24, 2018
Angry testimonial about oppression of women in Morocco
August 24, 2021
can't understand the negative reviews this has gotten. so badass, witty and funny!
May 16, 2011
A Moroccan woman struggles for independence.
Although this is only a short book (168pg), I didn't find it a quick read; I had to really concentrate to get to the point the author was trying to make. The narrative consisted of several distinct episodes in the life of a semi-fictitious woman, apparently mirroring that of the author. Everyone seems to be ultimately diappointing - her childhood friend, her boss, her lovers.
It struck me that the problems she encounters are symptomatic of many countries in transition from a male dominated society to one of increased freedom for women. Saudi Arabia is another example that immediately comes to mind.
The major complication was that she did not want to turn her back on Islam and live a Western life - she was a believer and as such, needed to reconcile her beliefs with the desire to make her own choices and live an independent life. While this made sense to her, she was fighting against many centuries of ingrained behaviour to the contrary.
I think it is interesting that she has translated her own work, at least we can be sure that her meaning has been retained.
I read this book as a member of a bookgroup that included both Muslim and non-Muslim women. This helped put a lot of it into context; it may be more difficult to approach without the benefit of such diverse views. However, I would not want to discourage anyone from reading it if it helps foster understanding into other viewpoints.
Although this is only a short book (168pg), I didn't find it a quick read; I had to really concentrate to get to the point the author was trying to make. The narrative consisted of several distinct episodes in the life of a semi-fictitious woman, apparently mirroring that of the author. Everyone seems to be ultimately diappointing - her childhood friend, her boss, her lovers.
It struck me that the problems she encounters are symptomatic of many countries in transition from a male dominated society to one of increased freedom for women. Saudi Arabia is another example that immediately comes to mind.
The major complication was that she did not want to turn her back on Islam and live a Western life - she was a believer and as such, needed to reconcile her beliefs with the desire to make her own choices and live an independent life. While this made sense to her, she was fighting against many centuries of ingrained behaviour to the contrary.
I think it is interesting that she has translated her own work, at least we can be sure that her meaning has been retained.
I read this book as a member of a bookgroup that included both Muslim and non-Muslim women. This helped put a lot of it into context; it may be more difficult to approach without the benefit of such diverse views. However, I would not want to discourage anyone from reading it if it helps foster understanding into other viewpoints.
March 23, 2014
I really expected to like this, but I was very disappointed. It's a novel (largely autobiographical, evidently) about a Moroccan woman who is educated, beautiful, and (somewhat to her own surprise) unmarried. But it's a lazy, incoherent book. She switches topics suddenly, and replaces actual events with long, desultory conversations that serve mainly as a way to convey ideas about gender and colonialism. It's like a series of Platonic dialogues, but with less action and character development. She should have picked a genre -- fiction, memoir, or rant -- and stuck with it.
December 30, 2007
A very fast read about an unmarried middle-aged muslim woman in Morocco. Throughout the story, she finds herself surrounded by disappointing suitors, lovers, bosses, and leaders, and she reacts by distancing herself from a society that she still loves too much to leave for the West. Some of the references might require a little research into modern Moroccan history.
October 24, 2013
Een verwarrend boek, want de achterflap laat het uitschijnen alsof Aisja het hoofdpersonage is terwijl elk nieuw verhaal over andere mensen lijkt te gaan zonder overeenkomsten met of verwijzingen naar het vorige. Die verhalen op zich waren wel mooi, maar omdat het verband ertussen mij volledig ontging, vond ik het niet meteen de moeite waard.
March 24, 2018
Marokkaanse man en vrouw
Zijn verhaal over hun toekomst,
Dat hij ter plekke verzon,
Zo heftig, zo groots,
als de bobbel in zijn pantalon.
Hij heeft een groot talent,
Voor ontrouw.
aan de waarheid,
voor ontrouw aan zijn vrouw.
Met één hand kan hij niet applaudisseren
voor haar prestaties,
maar hij kan haar er wel mee slaan.
Zijn verhaal over hun toekomst,
Dat hij ter plekke verzon,
Zo heftig, zo groots,
als de bobbel in zijn pantalon.
Hij heeft een groot talent,
Voor ontrouw.
aan de waarheid,
voor ontrouw aan zijn vrouw.
Met één hand kan hij niet applaudisseren
voor haar prestaties,
maar hij kan haar er wel mee slaan.
October 14, 2014
There was something off about the book, maybe it was the fact that it was translated. So it kinda lost it's appeal. But never the less, I did enjoy the book. It's an alright read.
Displaying 1 - 21 of 21 reviews