The Last Book I Loved: The Death of Bunny Munro

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This novel is a delightfully raunchy tale. If you crave raunch; to be torn open and fucked up, The Death of Bunny Munro delivers.

Munro has all the elements I love. I love surprises. I love pussy. I love beautiful words. I love the tension. I read it to escape and wound up connecting very sadly with every character.

Cave carries a steady hand throughout, offering each of his characters a high level of honesty and flashing their worried selves, fallible selves, sincere selves three dimensionally on the page. Cave also seamlessly slips from the mind of an Avril Lavigne vagina obsessed salesman to the tender naïve mind of his nine-year old Encyclopedia enthralled son. If I had more time, and the copy of the novel I borrowed was actually mine, I would have liked to map out all these transitions, as I think Cave reached a level of mastery with them.

Another gem was Cave’s beautiful metaphors: the curtains hanging like “strips of uncooked meat”; the once totemic quiff that lies as “limp and insentient as roadkill.”

The downloadable enhanced ebook features video clips, Cave’s laconic narration, and Warren Ellis’s music; and will no doubt further enliven the engorged, vivid language. Whichever way you come to it, you’ll struggle to think of Avril Lavigne in quite the same way again.


Melissa Chadburn is a fellow with The Economic Hardship Reporting Project, she has written for Guernica, Buzzfeed, Poets & Writers, American Public Media’s Marketplace, Al Jazeera America and dozens other places. Her essay, “The Throwaways,” received notable mention in Best American Essays and Best American Nonrequired Reading. Her debut novel, A Tiny Upward Shove, is forthcoming with Farrar, Straus and Giroux in Spring of 2017 More from this author →