Readers expecting insights into Islamic spirituality will find this a different kind of book. Its first half describes a long visit to Marrakesh during which the author is the house guest of an old friend who is a shop owner in the Old City's bazaar. A recent convert to Islam in California, Wolfe discovers how the teachings of Muhammad infuse the daily life and culture of this Moroccan city.
The second half of the book describes his own hadj (pilgrimage) to Mecca, where millions of the faithful gather once each year from around the world for a week and more of religious ritual and visits to sacred sites as guests of the Saudi government. Rather than the recounting of a spiritual experience, however, Wolfe's narrative is a detailed report of things seen, heard, and felt, much like a travelogue. The decision may have been to reserve comment on the impact of hadj on his own faith, but it's an unexpected choice.
More curious is Wolfe's uncritical acceptance of the male-dominated culture he describes. Men and men only go together to mosque for prayers, and the pilgrims he travels with are all male. Except for his friend Mostopha's wife, who seems always to be cooking and keeping house, women hardly figure in his book, even his own wife back home, who gets scarcely a mention. Meanwhile, he praises the classless and color-blind egalitarianism of hadj as it's observed, while failing to make note of his privilege as an American, able to afford rooms in the comfort of air-conditioned hotels while the poor sleep rough at night, sometimes in tunnels only inches from passing traffic. The shortcomings of other religions notwithstanding, these are odd oversights, even for the 1990s, when it was first published.
Still, for non-Muslims, this is as close as one can get to an experience of pilgrimage to Mecca. And Wolfe does readers a service by observing so closely and sharing so much. For an account of hadj from a woman's point of view, read Asra Nomani's "Standing Alone in Mecca."