Few books, written in the first person, have the unapologetic authenticity to sweep you away. This is one of those books. Undoubtedly contrived, chauvinistic and vapid, Jake describes his siesta at the bull fights in Pamplona with his friends, with a simplicity that makes you forgive all of these qualities. You exist in a strange state where you acknowledge his alcoholism and brooding nature and revel in descriptions of cafes, drinks, short conversations. The kinds of details that could be written in a journal yet Hemmingway manages to piece them into a narrative that serenades you into its romantic vision.
At times, your reviewer was left wondering if he was being swept up in a vapid beach read. Most definitely not - in a final moment of honesty we are left doubting our own fetishism of Hemmingway’s simple world. Unlike the detached nature of The Old Man and the Sea Hemmingway here demonstrates his skill and versatility in using his distinctive technique to achieve an entirely different form of immersion.