Straight from the Horse's Mouth

Starred review from July 20, 2020
Moroccan writer Alaoui’s mesmerizing debut introduces the resourceful, foul-mouthed, and spirited Jmiaa Bent Larbi. In the mid 1990s, Jmiaa’s husband, Hamid, takes her to Casablanca to pimp her out to men to raise money for his many fruitless business schemes. Almost 15 years later, 34-year-old Jmiaa is still working as a prostitute to support herself, her seven-year-old daughter, Samia, and the parasitic Hamid, who has illegally migrated to Spain. After Jmiaa meets Chadlia, a Moroccan Dutch film director she nicknames “Horse Mouth” for his toothy grin, Jmiaa agrees to consult on a script Horse Mouth plans to shoot in Morocco. Many remarkable characters people the novel in addition to Jmiaa: Halima, a sullen, Quran-studying prostitute; Samira, a loyal friend and colleague of Jmiaa’s; Houcine, the intimidating pimp who keeps them all safe; Jmiaa’s mother, with whom Jmiaa leaves her daughter; and the clients who come and go. Jmiaa’s Casablanca is full of corrupt cops and exploitative men who take advantage of the prostitutes’ vulnerability, but it is also full of friendship, laughter, and triumph, as Jmiaa’s association with Horse Mouth leads her to dream of a new life as a film star. Alaoui’s shimmering prose is funny and original; one of Jmiaa’s neighbors looks like an “armoire”; a client has “the breath of a corpse”; and Jmiaa, noting Horse Mouth’s Arabic is unusually fluent for an immigrant, says, “Normally it’s like their tongue is in physical therapy: it needs crutches to get to the end of a phrase.” Alaoui’s tale is one to savor for its language and its verve.

August 15, 2020
Moroccan author Alaoui's debut offers a glimpse into the daily pleasures, frustrations, and even dull moments in the life of a working-class woman in Morocco. Thirty-four-year-old Jmiaa Bent Larbi has been making a living as a sex worker in Casablanca for nearly 15 years. Ever since her abusive ex-husband, Hamid, abruptly immigrated to Spain, she has been steadily courting clients outside the local market to support herself and her daughter, Samia. Jmiaa works alongside several other women who live in her building, and together they spend evenings drinking, chatting, and arguing as they wait for men to pass by. Jmiaa is unashamed of her life; she's proud of her knowledge about the profession and her ability to provide for her family. "I'm only explaining the bare minimum to her," she asserts when asked to help a new recruit. "It took me years to learn what I know; I'm not about to give everything away." Still, when Chadlia--a young filmmaker Jmiaa calls "Horse Mouth" because of her toothy smile--presents her with an exciting opportunity, Jmiaa jumps on board, and over the next three years, her life changes in ways she never could have imagined. Alaoui depicts Jmiaa's character with humanity and grace. While certainly not avoiding sex, Alaoui makes the noteworthy choice of decentering this element of Jmiaa's life. Instead, by digging into her difficult relationship with her mother, the fierce loyalty of her cherished friend Samira, and her fish-out-of water experience working with Chadlia, Alaoui emphasizes that Jmiaa's work with clients is simply one part of her story. Throughout, Jmiaa's narration adds levity and showcases her bold and irreverent nature. At the same time, it is her fiery independence that makes the later chapters--centered on her work in film--feel disingenuous. Following a typical savior narrative, Chadlia swoops in with funding to offer the possibility of a more socially acceptable, glamorous life, and thus the story begins to plunge into the tired trope of the American dream. A refreshing character study loses steam in a worn-out plot.

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