This is a story of a group of quite awful American and English people who live in Paris, and go on holiday to Pamplona for the running of the bulls. Hemingway takes the title from a passage from Ecclesiastes. The sun rising is metaphor for the next generation coming along. This is set in post World War I Europe so I see his point. These people are certainly not suffering too much, though, and they still manage to get out to bars and have a good time. Every night.
According to the sleeve, this is “perhaps the most impressive first novel ever written by an American writer.” I understand that it is semi-autobiographical and reflects what a real group of artists and writers and their hangers-on were doing at this time. But, to me, that doesn’t make it any good. There’s no story, the characters are all shallow and selfish, some more than others, and it doesn’t provide an interesting commentary on the state of the world’s youth at this time. These well-off people were certainly not the norm.