This book is less a novel than it is a music history essay.

Plot and character development are sorely missing here. It seems to lack the engaging elements that typically draw readers into a fictional world.

However, it does have its redeeming quality. It serves as a great transport to another era, allowing readers to immerse themselves in the music and culture of that time.

I find myself in agreement with other reviewers here. I really don't know why it won the Pulitzer. It just doesn't seem to have the depth and complexity that one would expect from a Pulitzer-winning work.

Perhaps there are other aspects of the book that I'm not fully appreciating, but based on my initial reading, I'm left with more questions than answers.

Nonetheless, it's still an interesting read, especially for those with a passion for music history.

It might not be a traditional novel, but it does offer a unique perspective on a particular period in time.

Maybe with further exploration, I'll come to understand why it was awarded such a prestigious honor.

Until then, I'll continue to ponder and wonder.

With prose that is as long-winded, self-indulgent, and alternately lacking vitality and overly inflated as its fixation on Cuban penises, this novel truly has its challenges.

However, it does have a glimmer of hope in its promising beginning.

And there are some truly gorgeous passages of prose that occur during a pivotal tragedy towards the middle of the book.

Regrettably, these亮点 are dragged down by the insipid, meandering, and repetitive cadenzas that are dedicated to one-note characters.

If the intention was to create a narrative that is as impoverished, bloated, and self-gratifying as Cesar Castillo himself, then in that regard, this book can be considered a smashing success.

It seems to be a complex and somewhat flawed work that struggles to find a harmonious balance between its strengths and weaknesses.

Nevertheless, it still manages to hold a certain allure, perhaps due to the power of its more captivating prose moments.

Overall, it is a novel that leaves the reader with a mixed bag of impressions, both intrigued and frustrated by its various elements.

This is undoubtedly a situation where the movie outshines the book. However, the major issue here is that the movie wasn't particularly great either.

In the initial half of this narrative, "Side A", Hijuelos immerses us in the music of macho Cuban culture. The author transports us from Havana to New York, with global references throughout. "Side A" has an epic feel until the sexual references completely overtake the story. And after 100 pages, we encounter this passage: "She parted his buttocks and stuck her hand inside, probing him. He was alive then, cono. Alive!" Seriously? Is this what makes this character come alive? Not his music or family? But let's just roll with it. I'm not a prude; these things happen. Shortly after, though, the author kills off the guy who had a hand up his butt. Is he being punished perhaps because he doesn't represent the culture? After all, his penis weeps semen (no kidding) while other Cubans have many manly explosions.

Then we move on to "Side B". What a repetitive, chaotic, and disappointing mess. How many times do we have to read about the same "I Love Lucy" story? And the constant references to penises ("stop it already" I wanted to shout!) become such a burden that "Side B" turns into a tiresome read. It gets 2 stars solely because of the promising "Side A", but ultimately this novel just goes completely off the rails.

The Mambo Kings Play Song of Love has been sitting idly on my bookshelves for a considerable period of time. It wasn't until this year that a prompt emerged, stating "published by Hachette." It managed to pass that test and, in fact, won the Pulitzer in 1990.

⭐️⭐️

I came across another reviewer on Goodreads who raised the question of whether this book could win a Pulitzer in the present day. I find myself inclined to agree with her. The story revolves around two brothers, both of whom are musicians. They journey from Cuba to New York in the late 40's or early 50's with the aspiration of fulfilling their dream of playing their music. This novel offers a fascinating glimpse into Cuban culture and the Cuban American music scene during the mid-20th century. One brother is quiet and introspective, while the other craves the limelight and seizes life with great enthusiasm.

It's not difficult to guess which brother has an insatiable sexual appetite. Among all the books I've ever read, he has had an astonishing number of sexual partners. There is a great deal of detail provided about his sexual adventures. If such content interests you, then you might truly enjoy this particular book.

The 52 Book Club Challenge - 2024
Prompt #38 - Published by Hachette

A low 4 star rating was given, with points being docked due to its graphic nature. The writing was truly fantastic, almost musical in its flow. However, the sheer abundance of sex scenes seemed entirely unnecessary. If these were removed, this 400-page book would be a full 100 pages lighter.

I came across another review that bashed this book, comparing it to an old man simply sitting down beside you at a bar and boring you with his tales of "the good old days." But after reading this book, that assessment feels unjust.

It is more like a man who has reached the top of the mountain after a long and arduous hike, reflecting on both the good and the bad times, the victories and the mistakes. It is a story that encompasses love, family, and the full experience of living life. It is a tragedy and a tribute, an ode and a warning.

Most importantly, this book might even lead me to become a rum drinker.

This book was extremely sexual.

I mean, as an experiment, after finishing it, I randomly turned to four pages. And sure enough, all four pages, from three different character perspectives, were filled with sexual descriptions.

I'm aware that this aspect can either make or break a book for some people, so I thought it necessary to state this up front.

However, I'm not entirely sure if I would precisely call it objectification. The main character is dominated by lust: a lust for music, women, alcohol, social liveliness, and notoriety. His motto could very well be “Too much, too fast, too late at night.”

His perspective often focuses with sexual desire, but rarely with a cold gaze, and usually doesn't lose sight of the whole person.

But there are some uncomfortable exceptions. What might be regarded as objectification, (both of males and females, from both male and female minds), made me wonder if this Pulitzer Prize Winner of 1990 would even be considered for the prize in 2020.

I do believe that the richness of this story was worthy of a prize.

Part of what made it so enjoyable was that it was an imagining of the lives of two Cuban musicians who actually had a guest appearance on a single episode of “I Love Lucy” in the 1950s.

Hijuelos did an excellent job of creating complex characters full of love and longing, to the extent that I found myself convinced he was writing about his own family.

Which, he might have been – they just weren't the guys from the episode.

Through these two musical brothers with opposing dispositions, we experience the postwar-Manhattan dance club scene and the struggle to establish a home in a foreign land while yearning for what was left behind.

The brothers seem like polar opposites – one demands to feel alive by immersing himself in experiences, the other cannot break free from his internal longings.

This creates the perfect combination for their musical fans and their personal relationship, but means that each man often misses what is right in front of him – one, because he can't move forward, the other because he can't slow down.

This Pulitzer winning story about Cesar, the Mambo King, and his Cuban/Cuban American family was truly compelling.

However, the narrative timeline was rather haphazard, bouncing around a lot. This made it a bit challenging to follow at times.

Valid criticism has been leveled at the constant focus on Cesar's penis and sexual conquests. It felt excessive and took away from the overall depth of the story.

The superficial treatment of women was also a recurring theme. They seemed more like objects than fully developed characters.

These three reasons prevent me from rating the book as a masterpiece or giving it five stars.

Nevertheless, the fictional panorama drawn around Cesar's life and the thematic ties to Cuba and immigration were quite convincing.

The sense of a bygone era added a magical quality to the story, making me wish I could have witnessed that period firsthand.

The writing was engaging and of top-notch quality, especially within the context of the broader saga.

I was definitely drawn in enough to care about the characters, including the brothers and the nephew.

However, the Desi Arnaz connection to the brothers felt a bit contrived or at least unnecessary. I think the book would have been just as good without this tie-in.

Overall, I give the book four stars.

Cesar Castillo, the renowned Mambo King, is now an elderly man. As he nears the end of his life, he finds himself constantly remembering his life and loves in both Cuba and New York.

In the middle of the book, there is a quote that aptly describes Cesar's life. One day, he sang, "Me siento contento cuando sufro," which means "I feel happy when I'm suffering."

Cesar and his younger brother Nestor arrived in New York filled with ambition and a burning desire to become musicians. They were extremely talented and were willing to put in the hard work. With a bit of luck, they managed to form an orchestra, The Mambo Kings, riding the wave of the mambo craze in the late 1940s. Their talent even caught the attention of Desi Arnaz, who invited them to make a guest appearance on "I Love Lucy" after seeing their nightclub act one evening. This appearance brought them a certain degree of celebrity and helped them sell several records. However, true fame always seemed just out of their reach.

Nestor, an incredibly talented trumpet player and songwriter, suffered from unrequited love for a woman who had left him when he was still living in Cuba. He married Delores and started a family, but he still pined for the "Beautiful Maria of My Soul" that he sang about. His deep melancholy only ended when the car he was driving skidded off the road in a snowstorm, resulting in his tragic death.

Cesar had always been the driving force behind the Mambo Kings. He was a handsome, suave baritone who charmed the audience and had many women that he "loved." He was overly generous, freely giving gifts and money to those he befriended and also supporting his family members back in Cuba. But after Nestor's death, he simply couldn't continue to be the leader he once was. He sank into a depression that slowly ate away at him, worsened by excessive drinking.

It is a melancholy story, yet it is told lyrically and passionately. Cesar's reflections on his life offer us a moving portrait of the man, his community, and the times. Hijuelos' writing is both evocative and touching, leaving my heart aching for Cesar and Nestor.

Hijuelos infuses the story with a rich tapestry of color, captivating fragrance, pulsating rhythm, enchanting melody, and tantalizing flavor. This results in a tortured, romantic immigrant's tale that unfolds against the backdrop of the vibrant New York clubs of that era, when Spanish music and dancing were all the rage. The novel is predominantly set in the 50's and 60's. The immigrants are the colorful and passionate Cubans who leave their homeland before Castro comes to power, embarking on a journey to New York City in pursuit of their own interpretations of the American Dream.

Hijuelos presents us with two brothers, Nestor and Cesar. They are musicians, but their only similarities lie in their love for music and shared DNA. In every other aspect, they are polar opposites. Nestor, the younger brother, marries a lovely woman and has two children. Yet, he forever mourns the loss of his first love, Maria. His demeanor is sad, soulful, and tormented. Cesar, on the other hand, is a handsome, macho, and cocksure ladies' man. For him, life is all about indulgence - playing music, dancing, eating, drinking, and copulating. He measures his life by his numerous sexual escapades, and his machismo defines him. Together, the talented brothers achieve a modest level of notoriety.

Hijuelos guides us through the brothers' lives and deaths with both zeal and compassion. At around 300 pages into the book, I did find one particular admission from Cesar to be repulsive. However, for the story to be true and to lay everything bare, I suppose this was necessary. For the remainder of the book, I was treated to an endearing and compelling story, told as lyrically and melodiously as I imagined the brothers' music to be. I completed the book with empathy and love for these beautifully crafted, fictional characters.

Every other page was filled with some extremely graphic description of genitalia or sex.

There were at least three different rape scenes, and there seemed to be no discernable reason for their inclusion.

The protagonist in this book is morally disgusting. I really don't understand it to the extent that I don't even WANT to understand it.

It was only my unwavering devotion to my current reading project that prevented me from discarding this book into the recycling bin halfway through.

The excessive and gratuitous nature of the sexual content made it a truly unpleasant read.

I found myself constantly cringing and questioning why the author would choose to present such material in such a graphic and unappealing way.

Despite my determination to finish the book for the sake of my project, I couldn't help but feel a sense of disappointment and frustration.

It made me wonder if there are better ways to tell a story without relying on such offensive and unnecessary elements.

If you find yourself in a book club with your Irish Catholic Conservative family, then this particular book is definitely not the one to select.

You see, the values and beliefs that are inherent in an Irish Catholic Conservative family often clash with the themes and ideas that might be present in this book.

If, unfortunately, you do choose this book without realizing the potential consequences and only come across this review when it's already too late, I truly feel sorry for you.

It can be a rather uncomfortable and challenging situation to be in, as you may have to defend your choice or face the disapproval of your family members.

It's important to be aware of the dynamics within your book club and the sensitivities of your family when making decisions about which books to read.

After all, the whole point of a book club is to have enjoyable discussions and share different perspectives, not to cause unnecessary conflict or discomfort.

So, think carefully before choosing a book for your Irish Catholic Conservative family's book club.

The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love (1989) is a novel by Oscar Hijuelos. It tells the story of two Cuban-American musician brothers, Cesar and Nestor Castillo.

Their journey as immigrants and rise to fame as mambo artists is chronicled. After a cameo on "I Love Lucy," they achieve relative stardom.

The novel uses a nonlinear storytelling approach, with the narrative framed by Cesar in a hotel room in 1980. He reflects on his 64 years of life as the record plays.

"Side A" of the book is stronger, detailing their lives in Cuba and their move to New York. Cesar is womanizing and reckless, while Nestor pines for a lost love.

Tragedy strikes when Nestor dies in a car accident. "Side B" focuses on Cesar's downward spiral. He becomes an alcoholic, a libertine, and increasingly pathetic.

Hijuelos' writing has beautiful descriptions and a lyrical tone. However, the novel is marred by a confounding format, editing problems, overemphasis on the "I Love Lucy" appearance, and sexism and vulgarity.

The writing style is close to stream of consciousness, which can be disorienting. The numerous typos are also distracting.

The novel had the potential to be a great work, but the offensive details of Cesar's sexual exploits overshadow its strengths. It could have been worthy of the Pulitzer Prize, but instead, it falls short.

In conclusion, "The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love" is a flawed novel that could have been much better.