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A once-renowned Latin musician, Cesar Castillo, was more infamous for the countless women he bedded than for the number of songs he composed. He secluded himself in a hotel, ruminating on the 62 years of his life, which were filled with sex, despair, rum, and mambo (for there was little else). As he drank himself to death, this book essentially encapsulates his story.
However, in the process, we gain vivid insights into life in Cuba before Castro, the struggles of Hispanic immigrants in New York City, passion, the fragmented and vulnerable lives of itinerant musicians seeking their brief moment of fame, and the obsession with drink and sex as a means to drown out depression. I lost count of the number of women Cesar, the elder Mambo King, had in this book, and I was envious of his glorious “member” that seemed to be the only thing standing (well, almost) while all his other organs had failed.
The narrative frequently switches points of view, mirroring Cesar’s scattered thoughts. Since there is no distinct plotline, just Cesar’s journey from Cuba to a hotel in New York, it is not difficult to follow. We often move between Oriente in Cuba, Havana, New York, and back. Real-life personalities are juxtaposed with fictional ones – notably Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball, and the entire cohort of mambo stars from the 1950s and 1960s are mentioned at various times in passing. At one point, I questioned whether this was a thinly disguised biography of an actual mambo artist known to the author that had been fictionalized.
The Mambo Kings are the Castillo brothers, Cesar and Nestor. Cesar is the gregarious, womanizing, and alcohol-loving elder brother, while Nestor is the introverted, tormented younger sibling, pining for Maria, who jilted him in Cuba and became the muse for all his future musical compositions. They embody the contrast between the free-spirited artist sowing his wild oats and the happily married man who must curb his passions or direct them only towards his spouse. The bond between the brothers is completed when Nestor dies tragically, sending Cesar into a downward spiral from which he never recovers. In fact, the book could have ended with Nestor’s death, as the second half is really about Cesar debasing the virile image we had of him.
The style is visceral, often dwelling on the size, shapes, and colors of women’s pubic hair, the smells and emissions of bodies in heat, the overwhelming pleasure that Cesar (and occasionally Nestor) gives his women as he makes passionate love to them, the rich food, and the debris and danger of living in the poorer areas of Manhattan.
We never learn why Cesar was inclined towards self-destruction after Nestor passed away. Was it his abused childhood that left him without direction? Was Nestor the true talent behind the Mambo Kings? Was Cesar feeling guilty for making out in the car on the day Nestor crashed? All we see is Cesar’s overwhelming desire to drown his grief in sex and alcohol. And in the end, as if to prove that this is not the way to find reconciliation, we see Cesar, drunk and dying, impotently listening to the sounds of his neighbors, a younger couple, making glorious love, while all he can do is reminisce and take another drink that is slowly killing him.
This novel powerfully portrays the life of immigrant musicians pursuing the American Dream. However, I would have liked to see these characters exhibit more intellect and artistry – perhaps those qualities could have helped them escape the ghetto and reach the echelons where people like Desi Arnaz, another Cuban, ended up. Instead, being slaves to their hearts and loins, the Mambo Kings self-destruct.
However, in the process, we gain vivid insights into life in Cuba before Castro, the struggles of Hispanic immigrants in New York City, passion, the fragmented and vulnerable lives of itinerant musicians seeking their brief moment of fame, and the obsession with drink and sex as a means to drown out depression. I lost count of the number of women Cesar, the elder Mambo King, had in this book, and I was envious of his glorious “member” that seemed to be the only thing standing (well, almost) while all his other organs had failed.
The narrative frequently switches points of view, mirroring Cesar’s scattered thoughts. Since there is no distinct plotline, just Cesar’s journey from Cuba to a hotel in New York, it is not difficult to follow. We often move between Oriente in Cuba, Havana, New York, and back. Real-life personalities are juxtaposed with fictional ones – notably Desi Arnaz and Lucille Ball, and the entire cohort of mambo stars from the 1950s and 1960s are mentioned at various times in passing. At one point, I questioned whether this was a thinly disguised biography of an actual mambo artist known to the author that had been fictionalized.
The Mambo Kings are the Castillo brothers, Cesar and Nestor. Cesar is the gregarious, womanizing, and alcohol-loving elder brother, while Nestor is the introverted, tormented younger sibling, pining for Maria, who jilted him in Cuba and became the muse for all his future musical compositions. They embody the contrast between the free-spirited artist sowing his wild oats and the happily married man who must curb his passions or direct them only towards his spouse. The bond between the brothers is completed when Nestor dies tragically, sending Cesar into a downward spiral from which he never recovers. In fact, the book could have ended with Nestor’s death, as the second half is really about Cesar debasing the virile image we had of him.
The style is visceral, often dwelling on the size, shapes, and colors of women’s pubic hair, the smells and emissions of bodies in heat, the overwhelming pleasure that Cesar (and occasionally Nestor) gives his women as he makes passionate love to them, the rich food, and the debris and danger of living in the poorer areas of Manhattan.
We never learn why Cesar was inclined towards self-destruction after Nestor passed away. Was it his abused childhood that left him without direction? Was Nestor the true talent behind the Mambo Kings? Was Cesar feeling guilty for making out in the car on the day Nestor crashed? All we see is Cesar’s overwhelming desire to drown his grief in sex and alcohol. And in the end, as if to prove that this is not the way to find reconciliation, we see Cesar, drunk and dying, impotently listening to the sounds of his neighbors, a younger couple, making glorious love, while all he can do is reminisce and take another drink that is slowly killing him.
This novel powerfully portrays the life of immigrant musicians pursuing the American Dream. However, I would have liked to see these characters exhibit more intellect and artistry – perhaps those qualities could have helped them escape the ghetto and reach the echelons where people like Desi Arnaz, another Cuban, ended up. Instead, being slaves to their hearts and loins, the Mambo Kings self-destruct.
