The Sun Also Rises

When Jake and his companions watch the uncaging of the bulls, certain dynamics among the animals mimic those of their group. One steer, gored and left wounded, is ostracized from the other bulls, which form a small herd. The alienated steer is reminiscent of Cohn, who continues to be isolated from the group. The second steer, castrated by definition, is a parallel to Jake. By setting up this comparison of his characters to the animals, Hemingway comments on both the group dynamics and on the animalistic nature of their behavior.

Driven by primitive desires for dominance and sex, disconnected from institutions and tradition, the Lost Generation struggled to find meaning in the wake of war. The drinking and dancing at the fiesta greatly differs from the way that Jake and his companions party in Paris. In Pamplona, the revelers unite in song and dance, showing solidarity. In Paris, when the group goes to the club, the dancing is often interwoven with jealousy and disdain. Foreignness is mentioned again, this time when Bill tells Cohn they are the foreigners referenced in the Pamplona signs. Each has differing attitudes toward America, but none feel completely at home in Europe.

When Cohn remarks that “it’s no life being a steer” (145), Mike tears into him, accusing him of being a steer that follows Brett around. In a way, Brett does play the part of a bull: Hemingway characterizes her frank sexual interest as masculine rather than feminine. Of their group, she is the most sexually charged, and the group’s herd dynamics revolve around her.

Both Mike and Jake now feel jealous of Cohn’s affair with Brett, which has resulted in greater spite being directed at Cohn. Jake finds Mike too harsh with Cohn, but he doesn’t come to Cohn’s defense, even though he can empathize with Cohn’s strong desire for Brett. After Cohn leaves the table, Mike notes that part of the reason he is bothered by their affair is that Cohn is Jewish, another glimpse into the undercurrent of anti-Semitism that periodically surfaces throughout the novel. Later, as the group takes turns drinking from a wine-skin, they seem particularly close; during this time, however, Cohn is by himself, asleep on some wine casks. This contrast brings greater attention to his ostracization.

As Chapter 13 closes, Jake says, “Under the wine I lost the disgusted feeling and was happy. It seemed they were all such nice people” (150). This illustrates how Jake relies on alcohol to make his friendships—which are complicated and sometimes shallow—feel worthwhile. Alcohol can be blamed for problems but can also be used to alleviate them. If it weren’t for Jake’s status as an aficionado, Montoya would not put up with him and his friends, and they likely wouldn’t have access to the festival setting.

Harris is one character who stands in contrast to the group: He doesn’t view friendship as transactional. When Harris gives Bill and Jake the gift of hand-tied flies, he expects nothing in return. Jake’s friendships are comparable to those in another Lost Generation novel, The Great Gatsby: The party goes on until it doesn’t, and unrequited love leads to immeasurable sorrow.

Jake’s doubts about his own masculinity continue to plague him. Upon meeting Romero, Jake considers him to be “the best-looking boy [he has] ever seen” (167). Romero is painted in a heroic light and, for the first time in the story, Jake expresses great admiration for another man. At this point in the novel, there have been no heroes to idolize. Those who fought in the war may have lived heroically but are now numbing themselves with alcohol abuse. Romero directly confronts death and does so with courage, passion, and grace. These characteristics, in Jake’s mind, are worthy of reverence.

Those who experienced the war and those who didn’t live in an unavoidable cultural divide. At first, Brett is the most concerned about watching the horses get attacked by the bulls, but later, it is Cohn who becomes nearly sick when they are gored. In the war, Brett served as a nurse; like Jake, she grew accustomed to carnage. Cohn, on the hand, did not serve in the war and is highly sensitive to the bloodshed.

At the outset of Chapter 14, owing to his drunkenness, Jake has a hard time remembering what happened the night before. He recalls an extended interior monologue in which he tried to arrive at a sort of life philosophy. The monologue spools out a philosophy that is transactional in nature, as Jake discusses getting “your money’s worth” out of relationships (152). Still, Jake realizes that these thoughts are fleeting, and he won’t be able to cling to them as a belief system. This stream of consciousness style echoes other writers of the era, including Virginia Woolf and James Joyce, who was sometimes a drinking buddy of Hemingway’s. This writing style is a departure from Hemingway’s usual prose, which is typically sparse with a more explicit focus on the external.

The religious aspect of the festival increases the passion with which it is celebrated by the locals. It also highlights the group’s outsider status. When they try to follow the procession into the cathedral, Brett is ostensibly denied entry because she’s not wearing a hat. Regardless of her attire, the deeper truth is that hedonism is not welcome in a place of traditional religious values. On both the first and second days of the bullfights, Brett is entranced by Romero’s bullfighting, as well as his appearance. This foreshadows her sexual pursuit of Romero. Clearly, a romance with a 19-year-old is unlikely to last, but this heightens the appeal. She’s drawn to love affairs that are tragic and fleeting.

The final two days in Pamplona are relaxed, thus functioning as a calm before the storm. High white clouds above the mountains seem idyllic, but they signify that foul weather is on the horizon. In Chapter 15, the party explodes, and although the bursting rockets don’t startle Jake the way the claxon did, they portend the fireworks that will erupt between Jake and his companions.