About This Book
As revoltingly frank though it is, compels admiration from any reader who respects downright sincerity. It is an uncompromising piece of realism, detailing the life history of a Spanish bull fighter from the time when as a small lad he played truant in order to frequent the slaughter houses and enjoy rough and tumble practice with young bullocks up to the final hour when, past his prime, and with his nerves shattered, he meets the death which he has faced and expected a thousand times. But this book is something more than the chronicle of a life. It is indirectly an indictment of a nation, a relentless exposure of a whole people's craving for blood and brutality, their deification of the baser instincts and passions. It is not the bull, goaded and maddened, who makes the bullfight; it is not the bull-fighter's love of the contest for its own sake, — it is the voice of the people, their adulation and acclaim, the inimitable, unforgettable surge and clamor of vast multitudes gone mad with the lust for blood; in short, we get the keynote of the book in the closing lines emphasizing the fact that it is the voice of the people that is the roar of the one real beast.
—The Bookman: A Review of Books and Life, Volume 34
