The Death of Bunny Munro – Book

Cocksman, Salesman, and Deadman are the three things that Bunny Munro is in Nick Cave’s novel. While millions of twisted people flock to the book stores aka Walmart to buy the latest Dan Brown or Stephanie Meyers book, others, like myself prefer to get their mitts on something written by someone who has actually had life experience. Nick Cave is Nick Cave and if you do not know who Nick Cave is, then you, my friend, are also missing out on some life experience.

The title pretty much tells you what the book is about, but in many great stories, the end is not what makes it good. Instead it’s how and why we get there. This is the same with our very own lives in which, much like Bunny Munro, we shall one day die; but in the meantime, how are we spending our counted hours?

Bunny Munro was not a good father, nor a good husband. But was he a good man? That’s really up to the reader to decide on their own. He was a slave to his own sexual appetite and self-pity, looking beyond the necessities of those who were closest to him, his family.

“The Death of Bunny Munro” is not a feel good book that will make you forget about your own problems by sweeping you into some fantasy world. It is sad, dark and dirty, not unlike Nick Cave’s own music. Much much like his music, it also has an appeal and that appeal comes in the form of the art of story-telling. If you like Bukowski or Pynchon, then you’ll enjoy this book.

It gets 4 meaty steaks from me. Good story, good read, nothing out of this world, but still very fulfilling.

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