Shadow of a Bull
Maia Wojciechowska
This is the arresting first paragraph of Maia Wojciechowska's Shadow of a Bull
When Manolo was nine he became aware of three important facts in his life. First: the older he became, the more he looked like his father. Second: he, Manolo Olivar, was a coward. Third: everyone in the town of Arcangel expected him to grow up to be a famous bullfighter, like his father.
I was in single digits when I first read it. It was a gift from my Aunt Althea, who lived in New York City and always knew the hottest new books. I remember the cover: it was bright red, with an abstract shadow of a bull drawn in black. (Unfortunately, Goodreads doesn't have the cover of that edition, but you can find images with an Internet search.) In my memory it doesn't have the Newbery medal on the cover, so it is possible Aunt Althea was ahead of the buzz.
I was reminded of Shadow of a Bull two days ago by Armstrong Sperry's Call It Courage. Both books address the nature of courage. But, while I love both books, I think I prefer Shadow of a Bull. That is because, in addition to the moral lesson, Shadow of a Bull introduced me to the mystique of bull-fighting. At nine years old I had heard of bullfighting but knew next to nothing about it. More than fifty years later, this paragraph sticks in my mind
In Spain, however, people have found a way of cheating death. They summon it to appear in the afternoon in the bull ring, and they make it face a man. Death—a fighting bull with horns as weapons—is killed by a bullfighter.
Now, I abhor bullfighting. My favorite fictional bullfighting scene is the one in Arthur C. Clarke's Childhood's End -- if you have read it, you remember.
But I have always cultivated the skill of immersing myself when I read into whatever headspace the author is trying to put me in. If you can do that, you may learn something from Shadow of a Bull.
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