A fever-dream of a book, "The Mambo Kings Play Songs of Love" won the Pulitzer Prize in 1990. In it, the protagonist, drunk and dying in a hotel room, reminisces about his past.

First, the good. It tells a specific immigrant story - the pre-Castro Cuban story. Cesar and Nestor come to America in the 1930s to be musicians. The era when Cuban mambo orchestras dominated is fading, and this book explores that music and culture. I, being a fan of afro-Cuban music, enjoyed those parts.

However, the bad is significant. The protagonist, Cesar, is a stereotypical macho Latin lover. There is an excessive amount of misogyny. Every woman is either a whore or a madonna, with most being the former due to the numerous sex scenes. The sex is compulsive and always serves the man. Cesar is not a sympathetic character. He is bloated, dying from drink, and lonely. The volume of sex shows a pathology around his machismo.

In the end, I felt this novel would have been better as a short story or novella. The form of the novel, with its out-of-sequence flashbacks, hides the lack of a strong plot. Besides one significant event, it's mostly about traveling, playing gigs, going to clubs and restaurants, wearing hats, and having sex.

Ultimately, I wonder if this book is as timeless as the Pulitzer Prize implies. I don't think it would be as lauded today as it was in the early 1990s.

I truly desired to have a liking for this book. However, I simply could never muster up any sympathy or generate interest in the main character, Cesar.

This is a book that is both rich and sorrowful. It is filled to the brim with longing, regret, heartache, and loss. The portrayal of Latino life and culture had the potential to be truly exceptional. But unfortunately, it was marred by the unceasing flood of machismo and male sexuality.

Moreover, the repetitive recounting of the 'I Love Lucy' scene gave the impression that I was reading the exact same story time and time again. I understand that it was a significant event in their lives and careers. Nevertheless, it became far too monotonous.

I had to exert great effort to force myself to complete the book. And when it finally came to an end, I was truly glad.

Gross.

There is what seems to be a really interesting story in here. It's about mambo, the Cuban American experience, and family. However, I gave up around 100 pages in. I simply didn't have the patience to wade through all the pornography. There is a significant amount of it. And it's not the kind that is erotic or romantic. Instead, it's all filled with heavily crass and overt references to genitalia and body fluids. It's really quite yucky.

I was initially intrigued by the premise of the story, but the excessive and inappropriate content completely turned me off. It's a shame because it seems like there could have been a great narrative hidden beneath all that filth. Maybe if the author had toned down the pornographic elements and focused more on the actual story, it would have been a much more enjoyable read. As it stands, I can't recommend this book to anyone who is looking for a decent and engaging story.

The writing, for the most part, was truly lovely. It had a certain charm and elegance that was quite captivating.

However, there was one aspect that started to become a bit tiring. That was the continuous reading about penises. It seemed that this particular topic was being emphasized a bit too much.

While it may have had its place within the overall context of the piece, the frequency with which it was mentioned began to wear on the reader.

Perhaps a bit more variety in the subject matter would have made the reading experience even more enjoyable.

Nonetheless, the overall quality of the writing was still quite good, and with a few adjustments, it could have been even better.