I am surprised at how deeply I have enjoyed this book. Hemmingway would seek to persuade us that a bullfight is simply a ballet with an exceptionally violent ending, and it is a testament to the quality of his prose that I almost believe him.

It must be noted though that the sections that actually discuss bullfighting are the least interesting part.

Friends will be pleased to learn that I have finished this and will therefore probably stop talking about it soon.

I’ll review this more once I get my computer back. Parts of the book annoyed me (the stylized dialogue with the old lady at the end of the chapters seemed forced and weird, but produced some of the best lines and observations in the book) and parts left me breathless. I am unashamed and unabashed in my love for Hemingway. I love his curiosity, his passion, his style. He doesn’t always kill clean, but he doesn’t cheat and always gives the reader a good, dramatic show.

This book seems to have it all. A detailed explanation of corrida, its elements and techniques, Hemingway’s view of Spain and the Spaniards, fun and jokes, death and tragedy, pain, inspiration, sadness, admiration, some real-life incidents and philosophical thoughts... And yet it is one of the most boring books ever written... and not only by this author.

I had a very hard time reading this. And I can imagine that the subject it talks about is a struggle for many people. But that’s not what I struggled with. This is the most honest book about bullfighting, and the author, despite his fascination with the ceremony, tries to present both the pros and cons.

‘...and if those who read this decide with disgust that it is written by some one who lacks their, the readers', fineness of feeling I can only plead that this may be true’

After all, it's Spanish tradition and heritage. So who am I to criticize or have anything to do with it?

‘So far, about morals, I know only that what is moral is what you feel good after and what is immoral is what you feel bad after and judged by these moral standards, which I do not defend, the bullfight is very moral to me because I feel very fine while it is going on and have a feeling of life and death and mortality and immortality, and after it is over I feel very sad but very fine.’

But I had a really hard time reading this book because of those long sentences, unclear sentences, difficult to understand sentences, and long, unclear and difficult to understand sentences. I struggled even more to continue reading the endless list of names of matadors over 100 years old, their qualities, the things they possess and the things they still need to master to become truly good toreros.

My advice would be to prefer the novel “The Sun Also Rises” or at least “The Dangerous Summer”.

Last but not least, this particular edition has a lot of grammatical errors and excludes images/photos. And I don’t know which one is the bigger mistake.

Everything you ever wanted to know (and not know) about bullfighting. If you've read Moby Dick, you'll have a idea about how an author can obsess about a particular human activity, in detail, and one goes along for the ride because in that obsessive examination is a clue to what the author feels is important in some aspect of humanity. Again, Hemingway is a sucker for the Spanish way of seeing life and death and courage. Hemingway, through bullfighting, somehow finds a florid display of people facing the fear of death and conquering it. I do NOT recommend this book for the squeemish or politically correct or committed vegans with vitamin B deficiencies. We be talk'n bout meat and horns and guts and death and jerks pretending they're brave and on and on. But, like Moby dick, it's a way of finding out a lot about a subject and how that activity relates to the human condition.

As an animal lover, I don't care for the concept of bullfighting; but I am interested in cultural traditions, and in the sociology of sports. Death in the Afternoon told me more about bullfighting than I probably need to know - the level of detail is exhaustive, and much of it is so of-the-moment journalistic that, if Hemingway's name were not attached to the book, few would read it today. Indeed, the book is most interesting for the insights it provides into the mindset of a major writer (not all of them reassuring) and as an example of his style.

That style, by the way, is often misrepresented as unproblematically readable because Hemingway typically uses simple words. Ah, but the sentences he uses them in can be quite grammatically elaborate, sometimes almost ostentatiously so, and repetitive in the manner of Gertrude Stein (who of course influenced Hemingway greatly). For example:

"Cagancho's cowardice when he has to kill is more than disgusting. It is not the sweating, dry-mouthed fear of the nineteen-year-old boy who cannot kill properly having been too frightened of it with big bulls ever to take the chances necessary to attempt it in order to learn to dominate it properly and so is sick afraid of the horn. It is a cold-blooded gypsy defrauding of the public by the most shameless, anger-arousing obtainer of money under false pretences, that ever went into a bull ring."

This is quite splendid in its way, with wonderful phraseology - "dry-mouthed fear", "sick afraid of the horn", "cold-blooded gypsy defrauding of the public", "obtainer of money under false pretences". Yet even the most fluent literary reader might have to take two or three passes at that second sentence in order to decode the grammar. You almost have to mentally diagram many of Hemingway's sentences to parse their syntax. To say that they are knotty is an understatement.

A particular stylistic highlight of the book is the last chapter of the main text (#20), in which Hemingway describes everything he DIDN'T include in Death in the Afternoon and delivers his own self-verdict: "No. It is not enough of a book, but still there were a few things to be said. There were a few practical things to be said."

That is a great ending.

The 75-page "Explanatory Glossary" that follows the main text is a quite fun read.

As for Hemingway's philosophy of blood sports, I wasn't in the least convinced, but of course I wouldn't be. You'll have to see for yourself if you are.

The great thing is to last and get your work done and see and hear and learn and understand; and write when there is something that you know; and not before; and not too damned much after. Let those who want to save the world if you can get to see it clear and as a whole. Then any part you make will represent the whole if it's made truly. The thing to do is work and learn and make it.

I bought this book because I cannot imagine any self-respecting literature enthusiast who does not own Hemingway's major works. Admitedly, however, I did not know what to expect from the book. I had a vague notion that Hemingway discusses bullfighting - onto page one.

The title itself seems to suck all fear and sentiment from the notion of death. It implies a certain casual approach to the concept - or its crafty entrance onto a lively scene. Keep reading.

Immediately, Hemingway prefaces the book by dictating, in no uncertain terms, his trademark intentions as a writer - to write honestly of what exists as truth, mercilessly; the central ethos of his style. He insists that the writer must serve as a simple conduit between an event and those who read about it so the event can dictate its own inspiration to emotion, not the writer. He need not add any stimental embellishments lest the reader alternate his focus between their emotions and the writer's emotions and displace themselves from the stirring in their own soul, or censor any aspect of an event and deny the reader the full emotive experience. Hemingway obviously possesses a deep insight into the essence of bullfighting and has coupled that insight with a sturdy writing philosophy. Preach on.

I particularly appreciated Heminway's distinction between qualifying the moral implications of bullfighting according to feeling and as a unity of circumstances into one tragic, beautiful event. A spectator may sympathize with the horse, bull or matador which would lead to negative or positive feelings about the fight, depending on the outcome. If the matador wins and the spectator desires an example of Man triumphing over nature, he might argue for a certain moral high ground in bullfighting. Yet if a spectator sympathizes with animals, they might see only a dispicable scene of grotesque barbarity. Yet both of these spectators would miss the terrible trajedy, in all its beauty and truth, within the whole event. The bullfight, arguably, represents a dance - the unavoidable snare of Death and the proud defiance of Life - in all its terrible beauty or gallant victory.

When understanding Death as an imminent fate, one might find themselves viewing life through a rather unpleasant nihilistic lens. Such a pessimistic respect for death might ultimately render all of life's happiness as meaningless, which would explain the moral dread felt by some who witness the bullfight. Who wants to feel that way? In the bullfight, these majestic and terrible beasts exist to die. But, nihilistically speaking, does not man exist for the same reason? Perhaps the bullfight somehow imparts Man's dread or, perhaps, his inability to accept his own meaninglessness - born to die, a tragic existence now shared with the strongest of beasts who cannot, like Man, stave off the end.

On the other hand, Man has always imagined himself as a grandiose being capable of altering his own fate. Even today, people essentially apply all manners of sciences to disarm and shackle Death. We thrive on defiance and worship those who rise from the dead. Matadors do not rage against nature but spit in the face of charging Death. And yet, amongst all the pomp in the performance lies the art of the dance. The trajedy of the bullfight is not that the bull, or matador, dies but how he dies. Neither creature can control anything more.

One will see the brilliance and majesty of bullfighting when one sanctifies the seemingly contrary and combative executions of truth rather than abhoring the apparent neglect of cozy morals. To restrain one's actions to align with what one can qualify as the right and true thing, though it may mean the end for something else on the stage, is to devote oneself less to the outcomes of those players and entirely to the vision of real essence. Morality cannot exist purely based on the sustainability of life because death will never cease to exist. Therefore, have confidence in doing the right thing and respect the presence of Death.

Whoa, Hemingway...careful now.

Hemingway talked at length about many of the noteworthy matadors practicing in Spain through the early twentieth century. He talked about one known as Maera. During this short biography of a John Wayne fighter brought up under one of Spain's immortal masters, I felt a certain emotive quality but struggled to explicitly identify the reasons behind the emotion or to find any moral justification for it. At least Hemingway offered none. I simply felt the dull bliss of human connection between two unrelated people separated by all matter of space and time. Any moral implication or lesson in truth, the desire and subsequent search for them within the story, faded and left me with an indefinable contentment in knowing the true actions and essence of someone without distracting myself with the hopes of being bettered by such an acquaintance. I felt this same emotion propelling me through The Sun Also Rises but couldn't make sense of it. After reading Death In The Afternoon, a book centering around a "sport" I care nothing about, I somehow feel that I've come closer to appreciating and understanding the essence of Hemingway's ethos.

I only wish Hemingway had performed more laudibly in his craft. Look back to the epigraph at the beginning. Tell me he could not have written such a beautiful idea better.

Oh boy, I've read some good novels by this guy, but not this one... Definitely not for those who believe in animal rights and express compassion towards suffering of fellow earthlings.
This book could've been less boring, but the main body of it is just a dull discussion of how a bull can be slaughtered in front of a narrow-minded audience. Maybe it was sensational in its own time, but in the 21st century it is as outdated and out of place as ideas about racial superiority, eugenics and other nonsense that would rather stay buried in the history.
One page provided interesting discussion of why bullfights were not hyped in Catalonia and Galicia, and if this book had more similar stuff, maybe it wouldn't be just a worthless outdated crap.

My first book by Hemingway and I was blown away by his writing, I find it crazy reading books where I can understand how it was written vs having absolutely no idea how someone can master a language so well that it’s basically magic, and this was the latter.

The subject matter of bullfighting is an interesting one. Interesting in the sense that I placed aside my moral objections to making a bull fight to the death for sport, and placed myself in a dusty town square in 1950s Spain (empath). I allowed myself to read without (too much) judgement. And every time it gets too heavy in detail it breaks into light conversation which is an absolute lovely thing to read.

Overall great book and painted a thrilling and fascinating pure view of bullfighting, I have not changed my mind that it should be maybe left in the 50s and can’t quite believe it’s still a thing.

In Death in the Afternoon, Hemingway shares the sights, the sounds, the excitement, and above all, the knowledge which is fuelled his passion for Spain and the bullfight.
This book is sophisticated and well-written, inspired by the intense life, as well as the inevitable death, of those hot, violent afternoons.

Di nuovo corrida, di nuovo dramma, ma questa volta non-fiction. Puro Hemingway a ruota libera, esperienze, suggestioni e opinioni.

"Morte nel pomeriggio" ha lo sguardo appassionato di una convinzione passata, decisamente poco ben accolta oggi e l'autore ne fa giusta premessa, del ritenere la corrida ben più di uno sport, elevandola a fonte di ispirazione per l'arte.

L'impareggiabile dramma della corrida, con la sua rigorosa combinazione di atletismo e abilità artistica, e la sua necessaria dimostrazione di grazia sotto pressione, hanno acceso l'immaginazione di Hemingway, convergendo gli aspetti tecnici di questo pericoloso rituale con ciò che l'autore ritiene "assoluta l'intensità emotiva, pura bellezza classica".

Lo ritengo un Hemingway non alla pari di altri suoi lavori, non essendo abituata alla non-fiction ed essendo digiuna delle corride, il coinvolgimento non è stato totale.

Death in the Afternoon is a non-fiction book by Ernest Hemingway that explores the ceremony and traditions of Spanish bullfighting. Looking at the history and the culture behind bullfighting, the book also explores the dangers and fears being faced. Still considered one of the best books ever written about bullfighting, Death in the Afternoon explores the sport by one of its aficionados.

This is an interesting book, not something I would read normally but I did enjoy it. While I am morally opposed to bullfighting I didn’t have any really knowledge of the sport and culture behind it. So I went into this book with an open mind and a little hesitant. I had never had a good experience with Hemingway in the past; granted I’ve only read one of his novels (The Old Man and the Sea) but it was enough to never go back. I know this is not a good reason not to return but I have to admit I did enjoy the writing styles.

Ernest Hemingway has a very descriptive writing style which makes for some interesting insights; but sometimes too much. I get the impression that he is using humour in some of his writing but it’s so obscure that it either goes over my head or is just downright weird. I know Hemingway was a rather unusual man and had an interesting life but he isn’t someone that I think I will ever understand or connect with in any way. While I’m against bullfighting, Hemingway seems to be an advocate towards it and often wants it to be more violent and deadly.

You have to understand that Ernest Hemingway is an arrogant, sexist, pompous ass and it often comes through in his writing, so you have to take everything he says with a huge grain of salt. I found myself disagreeing with him all too often but still interested in what he was saying. I went into this book knowing that Hemingway and I weren’t going to get along at times, which was lucky because I was ready to throw out any of his opinions that didn’t align with mine. I did find it interesting how he kept using bullfighting as a metaphor for art and Spain; I don’t know if I agree with this but he seemed was be determined to make this point.

While I’m still opposed to bullfighting, I now have a whole lot more information about the topic; possibly too much. Hemingway’s writing style was enough to make me willing to try something else of his (if I find something good) and this was an interesting and different reading experience. I don’t read enough non-fiction, let alone travel or sports writing so this was a book way out of left field. I’m determined to read more non-fiction now and I hope that I manage to get through at least one a month. Also interesting to see how this review turned out; I’m never know how to approach a non-fiction review and I think I did alright here.

This review originally appeared on my blog; http://literary-exploration.com/2013/...

I didn’t finish this… I read this because I needed details about bullfighting for my book about my grandfather. In one of his numerous letters he describes seeing a bullfight in Mexico City in 1940, and his description of the paradox between death and art is on par with Hemingway (not to compare my grandfather’s folksy Kansas prose to his… but they were both sort of cut from the same hyper masculine cloth). My grandfather writes about getting swept up in the crowd and being mesmerized by the violence, which is Hemingway’s primary point. Violence is strangely seductive.

Anyway Hemingway does make me kind of want to see a bullfight—or wish I had seen one back in the day. And I feel totally awful for admitting that. Which is what makes this book so fascinating. It really has more to do with art, writing, and the creative process in general. But I got a little bored with all the details of bullfighters from the 20’s and 30’s… and the details… so many details. The subtitle should be “Everything You Wanted to Know About Bullfighting but were Afraid to Ask.”