Budd Schulberg's celebrated novel of the prize ring has lost none of its power since its first publication almost fifty years ago. Crowded with unforgettable characters, it is a relentless expose of the fight racket. A modern Samson in the form of a simple Argentine peasant is ballyhooed by an unscrupulous fight promoter and his press agent and then betrayed and destroyed by connivers. Mr. Schulberg creates a wonderfully authentic atmosphere for this book that many critics hailed as even better than What Makes Sammy Run?
"The quintessential novel of boxing and corruption."― USA Today "The book will stand not only as the novel about boxing but also as a book that indirectly tells more about civilization than do most books about civilization itself."―Arthur Miller. "Brilliant, witty, and amusing―the best book on fighting that I have read."―Gene Tunney.
Budd Schulberg (1914–2009) was a screenwriter, novelist, and journalist who is best remembered for the classic novels What Makes Sammy Run?, The Harder They Fall, and the story On the Waterfront, which he adapted as a novel, play, and an Academy Award–winning film script. Born in New York City, Schulberg grew up in Hollywood, where his father, B. P. Schulberg, was head of production at Paramount, among other studios. Throughout his career, Schulberg worked as a journalist and essayist, often writing about boxing, a lifelong passion. Many of his writings on the sport are collected in Sparring with Hemingway (1995). Other highlights from Schulberg’s nonfiction career include Moving Pictures (1981), an account of his upbringing in Hollywood, and Writers in America (1973), a glimpse of some of the famous novelists he met early in his career. He died in 2009.
I read this some years back, but got into a discussion with a friend of mine recently about Primo Carnera, the real life boxer upon whom this novel is based. I decided at that point to to revisit this book sometime soon.
Ok - I revisited it. Here are my thoughts:
Toro Molina (based on real life Primo Carnera) is a prizefighter imported from Argentina (Italy in Carnera’s case). Despite being physically huge Molina is a poor fighter. Unbeknownst to him the promoters fix all his fights, the idea being to build him up to a championship bout. All along the way the promoters make a bundle betting the fights. The story is told from the point of view of a freelance writer hired to publicize and spin the story. Anymore and I’m getting into spoiler territory.
The level of deception on all levels brings to mind both De Lillo’s Libra and the movie or play The Producer’s. Strange coupling I know but the tragedy and the humor are both in place.
Schulberg's writing lends the proper tone to this and for me the New York locations are familiar, as is the Pompton Lakes NJ locale.
Budd Schulberg's second novel, written in 1947, is nowhere near as well known as the Humphrey Bogart film that was made from it several years later. The book is simultaneously funnier and much darker than the film, and ends on an even lower note. Despite Schulberg's rampant cynicism toward human nature, I found this book a total joy to read. That pessimism is balanced with almost sparkly writing, filled with individual sketches of every character, wry observations on life, and a Runyonesque ear for slang and patter. There is some speculation that the book (like his first, "What Makes Sammy Run") was based upon real characters from Schulberg's own interesting life and career. That would go a long way to explaining the depth and believability of both stories.
A propulsive and extraordinarily bleak semi-roman à clef about the "career" of enormous heavyweight boxer Primo Carnera (here represented as "Toro Molina," an equally prodigious Argentine peasant), The Harder They Fall is among the best novels I've ever read. There's nothing tricky about what Schulberg is doing, and that's for the best: the prose is clean and tight, and the dialogue is razor-sharp. Not one of the characters in the book, from fast-talking PR man Eddie Lewis to greedy mobster Nick Latka to Molina himself, is the least bit likable, and the miserable conclusion to which Schulberg builds is nothing short of extraordinary. The descriptions of the boxing action are top-notch (Schulberg's two collections of writing about boxing, Ringside and Sparring with Hemingway, aren't exactly Liebling-quality, but they're very good), with special praise reserved for the match where massive Native American heavyweight "Chief Thunderbird" decides to make his "job" (i.e., his pre-arranged loss to Molina) look more believable by putting chicken wire around his lips and gums. A must-read, to be sure.
One hell of a read – Budd’s writing is snappy, the characters believable and mmm I really love the writer’s monologues. Well guess I’d read more of his books now…
When I found that Budd Schulberg the author of On The Waterfront’s script had written several novels, I was excited to scoop up copies. The first I’ve chosen did not disappoint. The Harder They Fall is a morality play of the highest order.
The book bounces back and forth between the light banter of the men involved in the boxing racket, and the narrator’s deeper inner monologues, where Schulberg’s prose shines. This is also where we watch the protagonist learn his lesson.
The book, while not being the worst offender out there, still falls into some of the misogynist trappings of being written in the 40’s, and obviously some of the racial terminology is of it’s time as well, but the books message in my opinion transcends these things. Ultimately The Harder They Fall earned my vote for recommending to anyone able to see past these shortcomings.
"I know the goddam trouble with me, I thought. Enough brains to see it and not enough guts to stand up to it"
I seem to be alone in my rating, but I struggle to see why this is such a popular book, how can anyone in 2023 not be aware of the corruption that exists in professional sport or that it's been like that since the beginning of time
"Successful Harry Miniffs, pushing their way to the top of steel institutes, oil combines, film studios, fight monopolies; and unsuccessful Harry Miniffs, born with the will but not the knack to catch up with the high dollar that keeps tempting them on like a mechanical rabbit which the whippet can't catch unless the machine breaks down, and can't eat if it does."
"Damn it, I was making a living, I wasn't robbing anybody; the lies I told were just ordinary American business lies like everybody else's lies."
"As a young man he had been full of a bubbling, imaginative gaiety, but it seemed to me as he talked that this had been replaced by a nervous animation."
"All I need is jus' one good credit, an' some o' this gold. I need more gold, Eddie, and then I'll-go to Mexico, six months, maybe a year, rediscover my soul, Eddie. But Dave, I can't figure it. You've been making big dough for years. You must have enough... This isn't dough. Dough sticks to your palms. This is a handful of worms that slip through your fingers."
"I never realized before that jealousy was something you could actually feel in your belly like a green and indigestible apple."
"But time is all turned around in Wolgast's head. For two or three seconds in his life he had a glimpse of glory, and down through the shabby years of obscurity, those precious drops of time have grown and grown until they have blotted out the rest of his memory."
"Some day, if I played my cards right, things would be different."
"All right, Eddie. Get all the nickles you can. Keep on kidding yourself."
"A playboy in my book is not the carefree, luxury-loving character that word usually calls to mind. It is someone trying to escape from the neurotic riptide of an over-abundance of money and an insufficiency of responsibility."
"There shines my conscience, I thought, one small compartment in this great edifice of darkness. And as I watched it, in a kind of hateful reverence, it suddenly went out."
"All of you. What did Toro mean, all of you? He must have me mixed up with the others. I was Toro's friend, the only one who cared, the only one who sympathized. And yet, he had said all. He had said all of you."
"All I had written was the first act of a bad play. Just twenty-three pages of a play that was going back into the bottom drawer of my trunk, where it belonged."
"I know the goddam trouble with me, I thought. Enough brains to see it and not enough guts to stand up to it. Thousands of us, millions of us, corrupted, rootless, career-ridden, good hearts and yellow bellies, living out our lives for the easy buck, the soft berth, indulging ourselves in the illusion that we can deal in filth without becoming the thing we touch."
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
Like all Budd Schulberg's novels this one is about artistic and ethical integrity as well as the very colourfully-depicted world of the story. In this case he's taken as his setting the seedier parts of the sport of boxing in 1940s America. Schulberg handles a large cast of characters and makes each so distinctive that you can feel their presence in the room with you.
I laughed a laugh of horrified recognition when a former champ goes over his ghostwritten copy and starts telling the writer how to do his job. There's much smart, snappy humour like that but Schulberg pulls no punches and you know there's never going to be any syrupy sentiment to take away the sting.
Apparently there's a Bogart movie but I don't think I could watch it now; after Schulberg's storytelling it would be bound to feel fake.
I was really looking forward to reading this because I’ve seen so many people praise how profound its messages about human nature are, but I was severely disappointed. The “profound” theme turned out to be the predictable and very played out theme of human nature’s tendency to screw each other over for money. It’s cold, but come on guys, we know this. That’s how business is. In addition, the writing style is excruciatingly and unnecessarily detailed; this novel could probably been cut in half and still been clearly told. I guess the story is an entertaining read (especially for a boxing fan), but in my opinion has nothing more than entertainment value. *I also should have taken note of the fact that maybe 98% of the positive reviews for this book are by men.
I really loved the film adaptation of this book, but I found the book itself just plain boring. (Schulberg did not write the screenplay.) The book moved very slowly, and Schulberg just rambled on in his descriptions of people and places. A big disappointment. I think that I like Schulberg better as a screenwriter than as a novelist.
2nd novel I’ve read by this author and he’s becoming one of my all time favorites. I loved this one. Not as good as “What Makes Sammy Run?” but as a fight fan this one rang true in a special way.
My copy's jacket has 'Bud Schulberg writes with a white-hot intensity & always from the inside' & how true that is. Bud was a boxing journalist & knew & socialised with the fighters, trainers & managers. 'Writing from the inside' is a tactful way of saying that Bud didn't invent fiction, rather he slightly amended real-life for his novels. That's certainly true here as 'Toro Molina"s life is essentially that of Primo Carnera. A cynical manager persuades a circus strongman to take up boxing, correctly recognising that his huge size & strength will convince gullible people that he can be a threat to the heavyweight champion. When he moves to the US his manager is elbowed aside by 'connected' businessmen who care nothing for him & he is propelled forward over the bodies of numerous palookas who conveniently fall over for him. Everyone in boxing knows he can't box but they are bribed or scared into silence while the public gasp in awe, Toro, like Primo, suffers utter trauma when an opponent dies, largely because his unscrupulous management forced him back into the ring while still suffering brain trauma from a previous fight. Toro, like Primo, ends up with nothing. So is Bud's re-telling of the 'Primo Carnera story' worth reading? Damn, yes. There are hundreds of wonderful characters, who we see through the eyes of the narrator, a boozy sports-writer/PR man & as his eyes are slowly, painfully, unpeeled, so are ours. Nick Latka isn't just a 'rough & tumble' businessman, his wife isn't just a bit of skirt with a drink problem, Vince Vanneman isn't just a thug with a dirty mouth. They are much MUCH worse. Bud loves boxing people & portrays them as the 'salt of the earth' but they don't come out of this untouched. Danny McKeogh isn't just an alcoholic. His desperate need for another bottle tomorrow means he'll always turn a blind-drunk eye to another Latka atrocity. Apart from the characters, the best thing about the book is the hard-boiled dialogue. There are some boxing metaphors I could've done without 'love can't take any kind of a punch' etc, but that is made up for by some brilliancy: 'Vince Vanneman, he's a momser from way back. The boys call him the honest freightman cos he never stole a train' 'Cowboy Coombs was shot when you had to talk through a door to get a drink in this town' & 'There was no-one else in the bar except one fellow on his own, looking like he was in training to be his own worst enemy'.
Me cuesta asomarme a esas historias de tipos duros. Aunque hace años me fascinaban, el arquetipo a ratos me devora la experiencia narrativa: me los imagino, como siempre, bebiendo sus whiskeys sin hielo, sentados en un taburete de bar sin esperar más de la vida que lo que ella sea capaz de dar. Besos fugaces a mujeres de rostros pintarrajeados y careados por la vida, charlas triviales con camareros arruinados, las imágenes se suceden de forma un tanto previsible.
La casa, como un museo de la infamia personal, está teñida por la miseria de quien ya ha dejado de esperar algo mejor de sus días.
Pero acá la cosa pronto rompe esa fantasía del "tough guy", pues los "duros" en realidad muchas veces asoman ese rostro al mundo para retener entre las vísceras el dolor que el mundo les produce. Semejante a cierta narrativa del derrotado, Budd Schulberg teje una historia brutal: la del escritor que, seducido por el dinero, entrega sus ilusiones a Nick, un mercachifle y mafioso sindical al que la vida se le va en sacar rédito del esfuerzo de sus subalternos. La consigna es sencilla: crear un boxeador. Hacer que Molina, un argentino venido del interior, de un físico bestial, pueda pasar por púgil. El único problema es que, más allá de los músculos y la estatura, el tipo no atina un jab ni un 1-2. En otras palabras, no sirve para el oficio.
De allí en adelante, Schulberg se esmera por mostrar hasta qué punto un producto no depende de sus virtudes, sino de las ilusiones que le endilgamos. Pura publicidad vacua, aunque esto parezca más un oxímoron que otra cosa. Fábula sobre la derrota y sus caídos, aquí deambulan los más variopintos desechos del ring: boxeadores fracasados, héroes de un día, apostadores y rateros de toda índole en procura de la redención que solo otorga el dios dinero.
Budd Schulberg wrote four novels, all downbeat. Of the four, the best is the least well known, The Disenchanted. This one is not as good, but is better than What Makes Sammy Run - which it resembles. As for On The Waterfront, it is so famous and close to the film that all objectivity is impossible.
Schulberg was a movie brat, the son of a top executive, but he is no slouch or beneficiary of nepotism. He is a very accomplished writer, and in this tale of Toro Molina, the Primo Carnera story is retold by hack PR Eddie (who is clearly the Budd character). He writes himself into his novels, but he is an entertaining and erudite storyteller. The fight game is exposed as a corrupt, evil enterprise, full of low lifes and worse. I'm not sure this was a revelation when it was written, but it is a sad morality tale. Budd seems to specialise in them.
If you ever saw the film, forget it. The book is far better. Eddie is played by Bogart, who is 30 years too old for the role. I never read the novel because of the film - I'm glad I did.
There is no down time in the novel, but the trajectory is too pat to offer any real surprises. It's a good read, a fine boxing novel, with the only sympathetic character the black sparring partner, George, who has life figured out. That's more than any of the others.
Another knockout by Budd Schulberg. I had loved What Makes Sammy Run?, and what that novel did to skewer Hollywood in a heart-wrenching and gut-busting way, the author does again with the boxing world. He puts the reader right there in the sweaty gyms, the bars full of punchy palookas and especially in the visceral excitement of the fights... which aren't half as brutal as what goes on outside the ring. The extensive cast of characters (trainers, boxers, doctors, promoters, etc.) are each colorful and distinct with their own voices and attitudes. Many of them are based on actual people, but the book was plenty entertaining on its own without comparing it to its real-life inspiration. Being a roman à clef written over 70 years ago, its events are a bit predictable, but when you go toe-to-toe with The Harder They Fall, you may see that haymaker coming, but it'll still leave you flattened on the canvas.
I continue to be a big Schulberg fan. This time we're taken behind the scenes in the corrupt world of boxing in the late 1940s. The protagonist, Eddie Lewis, signs on to be the hype-man/writer for boxers who are basically owned by the mob. The story follows a zero-talent giant's rise in the boxing ranks thanks to Eddie's hype and a series of fixed matches leading to the championship. Eddie's love interest serves as his conscience as he faces the moral dilemma of getting out or accepting a lucrative salary. Despite his missteps, we empathize with Eddie and see how he can justify his decisions. Even though I know little about boxing, Schulberg's story kept me engaged throughout.
“The greatest heel of them all…Enough brains to see it and not enough guts to stand up to it.”
A noir story about an Argentine boxer of gargantuan stature sold into the slavery of the 1940s fight racket. Everybody seems to have a plan, their own cut of the pie, but poor Toro Molina earns nothing for his toil. It’s a real heartbreaking story in all the best ways. Great snappy lines from Schulberg, believable fleshed out characters, and a great perspective from our columnist Eddie Lewis.
Looking forward to Humphrey Bogart’s portrayal in the film adaptation. Overall, a tremendous American drama through the lens of boxing.
I remember reading What Makes Sammy Run by Schulberg as a college assignment many years ago. I loved the book then and read a few more times. The Harder They Fall was another treat in the same vein centered on the boxing racket in the 1940s. It was every bit as gripping as Sammy. There are numerous characters--mostly sleazy--except for a hapless Argentinian giant who despite his size will never be a successful boxer. I didn't like it quite as much but the only reason is boxing resonates less with me than the world of entertainment as appeared in Sammy. Definitely a gripping read.
I picked this book up after seeing it recommended by Ryan Holiday. It was a terrific read. It’s an interesting story replete with believable, multi-faceted characters. It’s beautifully written, too. Every page seems to contain a delightful expression or a telling observation.
But what I most liked about this book was that it was a sophisticated, powerful morality tale. And it’s made even more compelling by the protagonist being a likeable character with a knack for rationalising each of the choices that leads to his moral ruin.
A similar cautionary tale. There is this very poignant idea of complicity, in which we are a part of a system that exploits and oppresses people, but as long as you admit your awareness of it that it absolves you of all blame and moral failure. The main character realizes that he is exploiting this Argentinian peasant who needs to fight to live, but he does it anyways, and the Argentine meets his tragic end. How many of us have partaken in practices, joined organizations, and done things that we know will be at the expense of others, but feel nothing for it because we have a shrivel of self-awareness.
Well-written, propulsive, a bit funny and a bit sad with a uniquely mid-20th-century American energy and cynicism to it. It was like watching a great forgotten noir movie play out in my mind, something like Sweet Smell of Success. You need some level of interest in/familiarity with boxing for it to work on you though.
Highlighting the corrupt world of professional boxing
In a world where an internet clown like Logan Paul can make millions in the fight game, this book shows how it’s been a corrupt sport throughout history with the heartbreaking tale of El Toro, a man mountain Argentinian, built up to be the next big thing, only to be left broke and broken by his corrupt management.
Great journey with this book; loved it. “I know the goddam trouble with me. Enough brains to see it and not enough guts to stand up to it. Thousands of us, millions of us, corrupted, rootless, career-ridden, good hearts and yellow bellies, living out our lives for the easy buck, the soft berth, indulging ourselves in the illusion that we can deal in filth without becoming the thing we touch.”
I loved this book. The dialogue was spot on and the story of a corrupt boxing industry in the 40's is well told. The main character, Eddie, is an account of a basically decent person who has sold his soul for the money
****1/2: you can see the KO punch coming from a mile away but the journey getting there is so satisfying, you’re willing to take it right on the jaw anyway.