Death in the Afternoon by Ernest Hemingway was published in 1932 and is still considered to be among the best books about bullfighting, at least in the English language. One very good reason for investigating what books have to offer is that they can make you reconsider ideas and attitudes and phenomena that you may have felt your mind to be settled on. The book may not change your point of view, but may very well stretch your brain in new ways, which I take to be a good thing. Hemingway was a devoted bullfight fan, and I wondered what he would make of a tradition that seems at face value to have little or nothing to recommend it.
I was prepared for a deep dive into the psychological roots of bullfighting, possibly with mystical overtones; the bullfight as an unlikely communion, an attempt to create a transcendent moment between participants and spectators. And the book does hint at that. But Hemingway is more concerned with bullfighting as tragic theater, as an art form. He explores in great detail the particulars of how the performance is meant to unfold, and the external factors that come to bear on it; everything from the selective breeding and raising of the bulls to the relationship between matadors and promoters to the traditions observed by those in attendance.
A bull enters the arena as an agent of chaos, or, at any rate, as something dangerously unpredictable. The actions that follow are intended not only to weaken the bull, but to induce a kind of tunnel vision. Ideally the matador wants the bull to come at him in a straight line, no sideways movement, as few eccentricities as possible. This allows the matador to display his artistry to maximum effect.
Some bulls can be so cooperative in this sense that they might be described as made to order. And an unintended consequence is the gradual disappearance of the complete bullfighter. Some may perform brilliantly with the cape, but not so well in placing the banderillas, or in the actual killing of the bull. Hemingway deplores this trend toward specialization and presents it as the main reason for what he considers a steady decline in the quality of these events.
Every matador understands that they are expected to perform a kind of dance with death, and Hemingway holds them to that agreement. He is generally more forgiving of obvious displays of cowardice than of maneuvers that may strike an inexperienced observer as daring but are actually a veneer of sophistication meant to cover up a determined avoidance of the danger from the bull’s horns. He reserves his greatest scorn for those who “assassinate” the bull through what might be called hit and run tactics, the placing of the sword in the neck area rather than between the shoulder blades, which would require the matador to deal with those horns.
A 2015 survey revealed that sixty percent of Spaniards dislike bullfights, yet only forty-two percent favour an outright ban. It remains controversial. Hemingway only briefly comments on the obvious moral dimension and delivers no judgements. His objective is to strip away all assumptions and social conditioning in order to examine, as honestly as possible, his reaction to the thing itself.
I do appreciate that honesty. I’m no likelier to attend a bullfight (although somewhat likelier to visit Spain). I was always a somewhat lukewarm Hemingway fan, but I expect I’ll be reading this one again.
with the fourth book appearing in March 2026 … I dearly hope I live to read it. 
