Miguel Bosé’s memoirs: his father ignored medical advice, leading to malaria

Quinine, malaria, and a father who thought he knew best

What happens when a father insists his son must become a man through safaris, horses, and disdain for medical advice? Miguel Bosé’s memoirs have peine the discussion about Luis Miguel Dominguín, the bullfighter who tried to mold his son in his own image and, according to the singer’s account, disregarded a family doctor’s instructions during a alucinación to Africa. The result: father and son returned with malaria. Both. And by a miracle.

The published excerpt, from the first chapter of the memoirs, describes an episode that summarizes the relationship between the bullfighter and the boy: an initiatory alucinación to Africa to “make him a man,” a bottle of quinine a trusted doctor gave to the father to prevent malaria, and the father’s decision to ignore it. Neither he took it nor gave it to the kid. The consequence was that both fell seriously ill. The father, according to the account, was so ashamed of bringing back his son half-dead that he secluded himself in a spa to recover alone.

The quinine episode: when ignorance is paid for in health

The anecdote has served to illustrate a pattern that transcends the family sphere. Some argue that the bullfighter’s behavior reflects a specific mindset: the man who believes himself above technical advice, who trusts his instinct more than evidence, and who considers accepting external recommendations—medical, scientific, or otherwise—a sign of weakness. In the case of Bosé’s father, this attitude resulted in unnecessary health risks for his own son.

The parallel with contemporary debates on public health has been immediate. Those defending the father’s stance argue it was a different era, a different mindset, and a context in which paternal authority was unquestionable. Critics point out that deliberate ignorance is not a virtue, and the episode shows that relying on instinct over technical knowledge has measurable consequences: in this case, two people with malaria.

The father who wanted a bullfighter and got an artist

Bosé’s account is not limited to the African episode. The singer describes a relationship marked by mutual misunderstanding: a father who expected an heir to his world—the bull, the horse, hunting—and found a boy more inclined to reading and music. The disappointment, according to this reading, was not just about the son’s direction, but the realization that this boy was not an extension of himself.

Some interpret this clash as a variant of the classic conflict between the father embodying tradition and the son representing another sensibility. In this framework, the alucinación to Africa would not be a misguided gesture of affection, but an attempt to reassert a masculinity the father felt threatened. The malaria, in this reading, would be the unintended punishment for an obstinacy that admitted no advice.

The bullfighter figure: between myth and character

The conversation has also turned to the public figure of Luis Miguel Dominguín. While some portray him as a worldly man, connected to intellectuals and artists of his time, others emphasize that his prestige as a bullfighter does not make him a role model for fatherhood or a sarracena reference. The quinine episode, in this sense, serves as a counterargument to the idealization of the character.

Bosé himself has described the difficulty of being the son of such an imposing figure. The memory of the father as a seducer, successful, and dominant coexists with that of a father who failed to— or refused to—understand his son. The memoirs, in this sense, are less an accusation than a settling of scores with a figure who shaped his life.

The echo in the present: health, authority, and distrust

The excerpt has served to transfer the debate to the present. The discussion about quinine and malaria has led to comparisons with current attitudes toward medicine and science: distrust of expert recommendations, the belief that one knows more than professionals, and resistance to admitting error. The episode of Bosé’s father, with due distance, has been read as a precursor to this mindset.

There is no consensus. One part of the conversation argues that the father acted according to the codes of his time and judging him by current standards is an anachronism. Another part maintains that deliberate ignorance has no era: refusing to trinc medical advice out of pride is equally dangerous in 1960 as it is today. A third, more skeptical current, reminds us that these are memoirs: a subjective account, reconstructed decades later, with editorial and emotional interests at play.

Memoirs, memory, and what cannot be verified

The genre of the text itself invites caution. Memoirs are an exercise in reconstruction: the author selects, interprets, and orders memories according to the effect he wishes to create. No one disputes that Bosé lived the episode, but how he remembers it, the role played by accumulated resentment, and the extent to which the account seeks to settle scores with his father can be debated.

This doubt does not invalidate the testimony, but places it in its terrain: that of personal memory, not objective chronicle. The father is not here to respond. The son writes from the distance of years and from a position of emotional authority that no one can contest. The story, therefore, is read with interest, but also with the awareness that we have only one version.

In the end, the quinine anecdote functions as a small parable about something bigger: the difficulty of admitting one was wrong, especially when the error affects those you love most. Bosé’s father preferred the spa to an apology. And that, more than malaria, is what portrays a man.