Mona Awad’s Bunny is a surreal, genre-defying novel that feels like diving headfirst into a chaotic fever dream. Reading it is both bewildering and fascinating—like stumbling into a warped fairy tale written by someone teetering on the edge of madness. The story follows a struggling student who finds herself drawn into a sinister group of women, whose unsettling rituals blur the lines between reality, fantasy, and horror.

„Samantha Heather Mackey couldn’t be more of an outsider in her small, highly selective MFA program at New England’s Warren University. A scholarship student who prefers the company of her dark imagination to that of most people, she is utterly repelled by the rest of her fiction writing cohort–a clique of unbearably twee rich girls who call each other “Bunny,” and seem to move and speak as one. But everything changes when Samantha receives an invitation to the Bunnies’ fabled “Smut Salon,” and finds herself inexplicably drawn to their front door–ditching her only friend, Ava, in the process. As Samantha plunges deeper and deeper into the Bunnies’ sinister yet saccharine world, beginning to take part in the ritualistic off-campus “Workshop” where they conjure their monstrous creations, the edges of reality begin to blur. Soon, her friendships with Ava and the Bunnies will be brought into deadly collision.“

Blurb

From the first page, Awad’s prose is captivating. Her lyrical and sharply crafted sentences pull you in, making even the most bizarre scenes feel oddly immersive. However, the narrative is anything but straightforward. The plot twists, turns, and spirals out of control in ways that are sometimes brilliant and other times frustrating. It often felt as if I were trying to follow the thought patterns of someone deeply unhinged—perhaps intentionally so.

One of the best aspects of this novel, though, is how much it invites interpretation and analysis. There are countless questions, hints, and symbols scattered throughout—some of which may mean something profound, while others could be entirely meaningless. The line between what is real and what isn’t is constantly blurred, creating a fascinating puzzle that lingers long after you’ve finished the book. This element makes Bunny a uniquely rewarding read, even if the story’s feverish nature isn’t for everyone.

The characters were another story altogether. Most of them, including Samantha herself, were difficult to like. Their cruelty, narcissism, and emotional manipulation left me feeling detached from their struggles. Jonah, however, stood out as a rare gem of kindness in this mess of toxicity. His unwavering support for Samantha was refreshing and made him one of the few characters I genuinely rooted for.

The horror elements were intriguing but didn’t hit as hard as they might have. Some moments were genuinely creepy or grotesque, but the plot’s hallucinatory nature dulled the edge of the fear. It was hard to stay scared when the narrative itself felt so slippery and unreliable.

The ending, though, was a highlight. Awad ties up some threads while leaving others tantalizingly unresolved, which works well given the book’s overall tone. It leaves you with just enough clarity to reflect on the chaos you’ve just experienced without completely spelling things out.

All in all, I’d give Bunny 4 stars. While the story felt disjointed and often alienating, the prose was undeniably excellent, and the sheer originality of the narrative was something I truly appreciated. For those who enjoy bold, surreal narratives that challenge their perceptions and spark deep discussion, Bunny is a unique and memorable ride. Despite its chaos, there’s a strange charm to the madness that makes it well worth experiencing.

Rating: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️