Enticing tale of identities, assumed, appropriated, cast off, and the protagonist's stolen belongings while visiting Casablanca, Morocco. The second person narrator is disconcerting at first but I couldn't put down this slim, increasingly complex book and became caught up in the idea of what I would do in her situation. Exotic locale, language challenges, confusing customs, too-easy solutions, fleeing confrontation, and family loss all contribute to an effective yarn. ( )

I chose this book for one reason. I wanted to understand how it might be possible to write a whole book in the second person. It is possible. In the case of this story, it distances us from a protagonist who wants to stay distant. She's a young unnamed woman who's come - fled perhaps - from Florida to Casablanca. Checking into her hotel, her backpack with all her important documents is stolen. The police 'find' it, but it's not hers, the woman whose documents it contains is not her. But she accepts it. In many ways, losing her given identity suits her. She soon changes her identity again... and again. Her need for anonymity runs deep, perhaps partly from her wish to escape her own face, disfigured by teenage acne. Perhaps because of what we come to know of her story - no spoiler alerts here though. Through what little agency she has, she time and again shifts the ground beneath her feet. This is a novel of profound unease and bewilderment, and distancing our heroine from us by simply calling her 'you' is a part of that bewilderment. An unsettling reading experience - recommended. ( )

A divorced woman traveling alone in Morocco has her wallet and passport stolen in the lobby of a hotel, the nightmare of any person abroad. She tries to work with hotel security and the local police, but finds it difficult, and when one officer suggests he has found her possessions but gives her someone else’s, on a whim she assumes the other person’s identity, leading to a series of misadventures. It was a little hard for me to swallow the premise initially, but as the book wore on, playing with identity, a critique of the filmmaking industry, and its revelations of both past and present betrayal, I was mesmerized. Vida uses a second person narrative style that fits this story perfectly. I also loved the tie to the Rumi poem which was drawn upon for the title. ( )

Light and breezy, enjoyable ChickLit to read with some laugh out loud moments yet it didn’t stay with me. The characters remain two-dimensional, although many people do as well, so perhaps that wasn’t the issue. It was like experiencing someone’s dream, after they had read the Rumi poem, where everything made sense at the time, with no resolution. A great beach book but oddly unsatisfying despite some good lines and descriptive elements. ( )

I picked this up randomly at the library.....A quick, fairly light, but entertaining read about a woman stranded on her own in Morocco. Her ID and money is stolen and she ends up stuck and not knowing what to do - a series of unbelievable (but mildly entertaining) events happen that keep the story moving along. The odd writing "technique" used was disconcerting at first, but I eventually got used to it. Told entirely in 2nd person, "I" certainly got tired of reading "you". The end was abrupt and unfulfilling - it's like the author ran out of ridiculous scenarios so just .... stopped. Certainly not my favorite book. ( )