At first glance, Bunny Munro could very well be the idol of every wannabe playboy on earth. He has a beautiful wife and a son who fiercely adores him, as well as the uncanny ability to charm the pants off of pretty much every woman he meets — something he uses to his advantage every chance he gets. But in “The Death of Bunny Munro” by Nick Cave, a chain of seriously disturbing and sometimes heartbreaking events takes place that turns the protagonist’s booze-soaked world on end.
The novel is divided into three aptly named sections: “Cocksman,” “Salesman” and “Deadman.” The reader is immediately made familiar with Bunny’s alcohol addiction and philandering ways. He is a traveling salesman whose wife, Libby, is left at home with their 9-year-old son and a diagnosed case of depression. In a turn of events not unrelated to Bunny’s wandering eye and lack of self-control, Libby commits suicide, leaving the care of Bunny Jr. to an immature drunk of a father. From there, Bunny takes to the road with his son, and the rest of the story, the death of Bunny Munro, unfolds.
The character who is most compelling, if only for his innocence and naivet�, is Bunny Jr. This young boy is a faultless bystander in the chaos that is Bunny’s life, and his obsession with memorizing facts from an encyclopedia his mother gave him makes him that much more endearing. As he attends to his drunk father and remains strong through some of the worst scenarios, one almost forgets how young he really is. That is until a scene in which the boy is left alone in a hotel room with a lost remote, causing him to catch the better part of a “Teletubbies” episode — the very show that was airing in his mother’s room the day they found her dead. The little boy, sad and helpless, wets his pants, and in a tragic and very real way the reader has the chance to glimpse what he is truly experiencing after his loss.
Throughout the entire book, both Bunny and his son are haunted by memories of Libby, but for different reasons. Bunny Jr. is missing his mother and is unsure of his future with a barely coherent father, and Bunny is no doubt feeling immeasurable guilt and responsibility for her death. Forgiveness is a very real part of the human experience and is an ideal Cave explores with great irony in the latter end of the novel.
While “The Death of Bunny Munro” is certainly not the feel-good novel of the year, it does have a certain enigmatic presence that cannot be denied. Cave is dark and, at times, deeply disturbing in his graphic detailing of the inner workings of Bunny’s twisted mind. For those who are shy or somewhat reserved, the book may be a little too lewd, as Bunny’s thoughts always relate back to sex in one way or another. Case in point, when he returns home and finds a lifeless Libby hanging from the security bar in their master bedroom, he can’t help but think how good her chest looks.
But even the most conservative reader out there cannot deny Cave’s unmistakable ability for turning phrase. His symbolism and prose spawn a compelling and lucid picture for the reader time and time again. From his use of starlings as a forbearer of catastrophe to his colorful descriptions, Cave, known primarily for his music career, is a success at proving himself as a worthy competitor in fiction writing.
Rating: W W W 1/2
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