On the strength of a travelogue alone, I would give Wolfe's book a 4 star. It has all the ingredients of a piece written by a well-read traveler: historical contexts, quotations from predecessors who have traveled the same path, descriptive passages concerning both landscape and human figures, and most importantly, a show of restraint by withholding ethnocentric judgments that fly all too easily when cultures collide.



The Hadj is a good primer for stateside readers whose only education about Islam consists of shouting pundits on fair and balanced news stations. It shows that there is a majority of Muslims who are not concerned with violence and are not preoccupied throughout the day with terrorist thoughts.



The problem begins when readers approach the book expecting either a political angle or a spiritual angle. We don't expect a travel journal about London to delve into a detailed commentary about imperialistic regimes achieved through naval superiority, so why should the author of the Hadj need to impose Western concepts of egalitarian societies onto his observations? I found that as long as I read the Hadj as nothing but a travelogue, it was quite satisfying.



Every person has their reasons for embarking on a spiritual journey, so I won't question Wolfe's true reasons. I will confess that at the opening of the book, when I read these lines "I was looking for a framework I could live with, a vocabulary of spiritual concepts applicable to the life I was living now. I did not want to 'trade in' my culture. I wanted access to new meanings," and later on, "The more I learned about Islam, the more it appeared to conform to what I was looking for"; I almost put down the book and stopped right there.



An Assyrian friend of mine once said: "Many Americans have an odd way of treating religion: They pick and choose as if they were at a spiritual buffet. They pluck what they need from each culture to meet their conveniences." It's true. We drop Zen when we're too lazy to provide an explanation; we pull out the Kaballah when we have lost our mystery; we get a bit of relaxation from the Hindu yogis after a hard week at work, and confess to being a Christian when there's a sale on red wine.



Islam is not on the menu. Islam means "obedience, submission to god, surrender of the self."



So when Wolfe prefaces his book about a spiritual journey by announcing that Islam appeals to his personal needs, it pretty much sets the stage for one's expectations from the book in terms of spirituality. I felt that there were moments when the author was more intent on observing his surroundings, seeking comfort and relief from the heat and exhaustion, and completing a business deal involving the sale of used cars, then embarking on a spiritual journey. At the height of the Hadj for example (at Mount Mercy) when colleagues of the author busied themselves with reading the Qu'ran, he goes off to look for drinks, friends, shelter, and a better view. I was continually befuddled at why a novice wouldn't try his hardest to seek enlightenment when standing on the spiritual center of his new religion. It's these moments I felt the book should really be read as a travelogue about the Hadj, and not as one man's personal spiritual journey. I won't rule out the fact that as a novice convert at that time, Wolfe may still have some time before coming into his own. So there's no judgment made here. Just sharing an observation for those who expect to gain insight on the spiritual angle.



A bibliography of further reading and a helpful glossary completes this book. A breezy read for us Kafirs who need a bit of education about our Muslim brothers and sisters.

On the strength of a travelogue alone, I would give Wolfe's book a 4 star. It has all the ingredients of a piece written by a well-read traveler: historical contexts, quotations from predecessors who have traveled the same path, descriptive passages concerning both landscape and human figures, and most importantly, a show of restraint by withholding ethnocentric judgments that fly all too easily when cultures collide.

The Hadj is a good primer for stateside readers whose only education about Islam consists of shouting pundits on fair and balanced news stations. It shows that there is a majority of Muslims who are not concerned with violence and are not preoccupied throughout the day with terrorist thoughts.

The problem begins when readers approach the book expecting either a political angle or a spiritual angle. We don't expect a travel journal about London to delve into a detailed commentary about imperialistic regimes achieved through naval superiority, so why should the author of the Hadj need to impose Western concepts of egalitarian societies onto his observations? I found that as long as I read the Hadj as nothing but a travelogue, it was quite satisfying.

Every person has their reasons for embarking on a spiritual journey, so I won't question Wolfe's true reasons. I will confess that at the opening of the book, when I read these lines "I was looking for a framework I could live with, a vocabulary of spiritual concepts applicable to the life I was living now. I did not want to 'trade in' my culture. I wanted access to new meanings," and later on, "The more I learned about Islam, the more it appeared to conform to what I was looking for"; I almost put down the book and stopped right there.

An Assyrian friend of mine once said: "Many Americans have an odd way of treating religion: They pick and choose as if they were at a spiritual buffet. They pluck what they need from each culture to meet their conveniences." It's true. We drop Zen when we're too lazy to provide an explanation; we pull out the Kaballah when we have lost our mystery; we get a bit of relaxation from the Hindu yogis after a hard week at work, and confess to being a Christian when there's a sale on red wine.

Islam is not on the menu. Islam means "obedience, submission to god, surrender of the self."

So when Wolfe prefaces his book about a spiritual journey by announcing that Islam appeals to his personal needs, it pretty much sets the stage for one's expectations from the book in terms of spirituality. I felt that there were moments when the author was more intent on observing his surroundings, seeking comfort and relief from the heat and exhaustion, and completing a business deal involving the sale of used cars, then embarking on a spiritual journey. At the height of the Hadj for example (at Mount Mercy) when colleagues of the author busied themselves with reading the Qu'ran, he goes off to look for drinks, friends, shelter, and a better view. I was continually befuddled at why a novice wouldn't try his hardest to seek enlightenment when standing on the spiritual center of his new religion. It's these moments I felt the book should really be read as a travelogue about the Hadj, and not as one man's personal spiritual journey. I won't rule out the fact that as a novice convert at that time, Wolfe may still have some time before coming into his own. So there's no judgment made here. Just sharing an observation for those who expect to gain insight on the spiritual angle.

A bibliography of further reading and a helpful glossary completes this book. A breezy read for us Kafirs who need a bit of education about our Muslim brothers and sisters.

i don't know why reviewers are parsing and saying, well, this is actually a travelogue or it isn't really about religious concerns...

come one, it is simply a travelogue about a spiritual journey that more than transcends "religiosity".....

thus, it succeeds by its OWN standards.

anyways, i am reading this again. it deepened my respect for Islam.

i admit that i am a pagan and liable to slip into sufi-modes....but then, i see Islam as grounded in a paganism it should embrace. if only it would, it would be THE premier "religion"....

this book rocks...Islam needs to recognize its roots in AL-LAT....and the femininie...and the djinn.....

it already circumnabulates a pagan/celestial rock in the KA'ABA once a year. there is hidden beauty everywhere in the unknown folds of this tradition.