Ο θάνατος του Μπάνι Μανρό

by Nick Cave, Αντώνης Καλοκύρης (Translator)

Ο Μπάνι Μανρό είναι ένας ερωτύλος πλασιέ που πουλάει καλλυντικά και όνειρα σε μοναχικές νοικοκυρές στις ακτές της νότιας Αγγλίας. Ο απροσδόκητος θάνατος της γυναίκας του τον φέρνει αντιμέτωπο με την πραγματικότητα της ζωής του. Γραπώνεται από τον εννιάχρονο μοναχογιό του και μαζί του ξαναπαίρνει τις γνωστές του διαδρομές. Όσο ο Μπάνι απασχολείται με τις "πελάτισσές" του, ο γιος του περιμένει υπομονετικά στο αυτοκίνητο πασχίζοντας να καταλάβει τον κόσμο μέσα από τις σελίδες της εγκυκλοπαίδειάς του.
Στη διάρκεια αυτού του ταξιδιού/επιστροφής του ασώτου, ο Μπάνι έρχεται αντιμέτωπος με τα απωθημένα φαντάσματά του: τη ματαιωμένη σύζυγο, τον ανήμπορο πατέρα του, τον βασανιστικό "ρομαντισμό" του που περιορίζεται στον γυναικείο κόλπο, την ανικανότητά του ως πατέρας -φαντάσματα που τον πιέζουν φορτικά να καταβάλει το αντίτιμο της σπαταλημένης του ζωής.

Genres: Fiction, Contemporary, Thriller, Music, Novels, Literature, Australia

239 pages, Paperback

First published September 1, 2009

About the author

Nicholas Edward Cave is an Australian musician, songwriter, author, screenwriter, and occasional actor. He is best known for his work in the rock band Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, and his fascination with American music and its roots. He has a reputation, which he disowns, for singing dark, brooding songs which some listeners regard as depressing. His music is characterised by intensity, high energy and a wide variety of influences. He currently lives in Brighton & Hove in England.

Cave released his first book King Ink, in 1988. It is a collection of lyrics and plays, including collaborations with American enfant terrible Lydia Lunch.

While he was based in West Berlin, Cave started working on what was to become his debut novel, And the Ass Saw the Angel (1989). Significant crossover is evident between the themes in the book and the lyrics Cave wrote in the late stages of the Birthday Party and the early stage of his solo career. "Swampland", from Mutiny, in particular, uses the same linguistic stylings ('mah' for 'my', for instance) and some of the same themes (the narrator being haunted by the memory of a girl called Lucy, being hunted like an animal, approaching death and execution). A collectors' limited edition of the book appeared in 2007.

Cave wrote the foreword to a Canongate publication of the Gospel according to Mark, published in the UK in 1998. The American publication of the same book contains a foreword by a different author.

Reviews

[karen · Rating 4 out of 5]

look we are best friends!

okay now it is time to actually review the book. and im having an off day so im not sure what form this review will take, but im writing it and thats what is happening. i was trying to remember the other day where i was the first time i encountered nick cave. not in person, - i remember that quite well. before the above picture was taken i had tried, many years ago, to flirt on him and was rebuffed. REBUFFED! but the first time i heard his music. i remember quite well the first time i heard the smiths. or leonard cohen. or oingo boingo. and thats about all the music i know. but i cant remember my first nick cave. fascinating, right?? like i said - its an off day. but so the book. i liked it, but not nearly as much as and the ass saw the angel. which i love enough to maybe review later, if im feeing saucy. this book is very good, and i know a movie is in the works, and i can see how that would be good, maybe. but when he was chatting in the green room, maria mentioned the word antihero. and nick cave seemed genuinely surprised at this word being used in connection with this book. and that, in turn, surprises me. because if you read this, theres nothing really to fall in love with, character-wise. hes a pure, unmitigated asshole. and thats great, really, but he is nothing if not an antihero. and moments later, he tried to make a call on his cell, but was geting poor reception and kept saying "can you hear me now", which makes me cringe, and then said "never mind, ill just text you". to this technogrouch, that was unforgiveable. but still - best friends. i thank this book for making =me realize how close avril lavignes name anagrams to "vaginal". and i love that when i was reading this outside on the back stoop at work, some lady came by and tried to sell me makeup from her little suitcase, which meshed nicely with what i was reading, but not as nicely (or terrifyingly) as when i was reading the plague on the jmz subway platform at like 2 in the morning and no one was around and then a rat ran over my foot. that was pretty awesome. but so thats my review, sortof, and i cant even see what i am typing because goodreads.com is experiencing some kind of annoying glitch that is superimposing "formatting tips" over my little box here. (on my display device) so i dont even care. comment, vote, whatever... this day is annoying all-round. boo.

[RandomAnthony · Rating 3 out of 5]

Nick Cave’s The Death of Bunny Monro is a novel about a delusional sex addict/beauty products salesman and his reserved, thoughtful nine year old son in the fateful days after the suicide of their wife/mother. The novel’s quick 278 pages include (without giving away too much, I hope):

• At least a dozen references to Arvil Lavigne’s vagina,
• The same amount of references to Kyle Minogue’s vagina (and remember, Mr. Cave sang with her a few albums back),
• A sex scene between the main character and the devil (I think),
• A beautiful and cathartic scene in which Bunny interacts with his collective conquests,
• A lot of talk about fucking housewives (um, with the f-word as a verb, not an adjective),
• An encyclopedia,
• A recurring news story featuring a man with a pitchfork, and
• A ghost in an orange dress.

As someone who would place Mr. Cave’s music in my top ten, if not top five, on a facebook list of my favorite musicians (and on which I’d probably spend way too much time at work), I find separating Bunny Munro and the author next to impossible. When Bunny looks in the mirror and talks about his hair I picture Nick Cave looking in the mirror and adjusting his black locks. And when Bunny rants about the best way to utilize hand cream in the seduction of lonely women I think of Cave on stage in stark white light tearing up “From Her to Eternity” or talking through “Henry Lee”. I can’t help it. So maybe there’s something to be said for keeping the author in the background, without a personality, and letting the book stand on its own merits. Couldn’t do it here. However, if I’m going to be honest, I doubt this book would have reached the shelves if an author without a storied musical history had submitted the manuscript cold to the publishers. Cave’s first novel, And The Ass Saw The Angel, is better than his sophomore effort.

That’s not to say The Death of Bunny Munro isn’t worthwhile. Cave, both the author and the musician, is at his best when he raises lyrical and musical drama in order to heighten elemental emotions and amplify central ideas. Cave’s work has an operatic facet that surfaces here and there in the novel. But as opera relies upon huge, broadly drawn characters for projection, The Death of Bunny Monroe lacks complex characters and nuanced storytelling. When Cave hits his mark with the big scenes, the “just close enough to over the top” storytelling, his genius comes forth. And when the book reads like a literate version of “Tupelo” I’m willing to speak in tongues at the Church of the Bad Seed. But I don’t know that any novel pushing 300 pages can maintain that intensity and it’s not fair of me to expect Cave’s literature to mirror his four minute songs. So while I recommend The Death of Bunny Monroe I temper my recommendation with the assertion that the novel is the work of a brilliant musician trying his hand at a second book. If you don’t know Mr. Cave you’ll probably approach this book differently than those of us who love his musical catalog. Maybe that’s a positive.

(This review, by the way, was written under the influence of the super-brilliant White Lunar, a collection of Mr. Cave’s soundtrack collaborations with Warren Ellis. I highly recommend White Lunar.)

[Steven Godin · Rating 4 out of 5]

This was not what I was expecting at all from an Australian baritone country and blues/gothic singer/songwriter - a hysterically humorous and manic novel set on the British south coast about an outrageously lewd sex obsessed door to door cosmetics salesman who can't stop thinking about celebrity nether regions. Specifically, the vagina of Avril Lavigne, and Kylie Minogue's derrière in those gold hot pants. It is also, between the frenzied beating off, elastin hand creams and body lotions, and his attempts to screw every customer, a rather sad and touching story of a father and son relationship once they hit the road.

Bunny Munro is no doubt one hell of a foul and pathetic excuse for a father and husband - well, husband no more as his unstable wife was found hanging at their home - but what really gives this novel a heart is little nine-year-old Bunny junior; or 'Bunny boy', who, despite the Darth Vader figurine he carries with him, feels like a beacon of hope in a novel that doesn't exactly paint a pretty picture of the world around him. Even towards the end, when Bunny & son visit Bunny's sick elderly father, they walk in on him with his hands down his pants trying to get it up whilst watching a porno. It felt like every time I put the book down I immediately wanted to go and wash my hands!

Part kitchen sink realism, part British lads' mag fantasy, the tone of the book and use of bad language reminded me a little of Irvine Welsh, and even Martin Amis' Lionel Asbo. There was a side-plot involving a horned serial killer that I just couldn't get my head around, and a couple of scenes that I felt overstepped a certain line, and while I thought earlier on that I'd end up absolutely hating it, I ended up quite surprised by just how much I liked it. It's clever in the way that you don't fully notice the seriousness and shocking behaviour of the disturbed sexual predator side of Bunny, as cave partially hides it from plain sight by using the comic idea of a rabbit in human form; jumping up and down and making rabbit ears with his fingers behind his head and what not. In fact, the novel is littered with rabbit symbolism, and not just through Bunny himself.

Of course, it isn't called The Death of Bunny Munro for nothing, and in the last third I started to feel we going headlong into something far more ominous, when Cave throws the themes of redemption and damnation into the mix. Three-and-a-half stars rounded up.

Funny, that after the novel finished, Cave acknowledges Avril & Kylie - 'with love, respect and apologies'

[Shantell · Rating 1 out of 5]

Jesus, how is this even a book. Its like they grabbed the horniest 15 year old boy they could find, gave him a playboy, and told him to try and write a fiction novel. I'm no prude, far from it in fact, but saying "her tits are nice like peaches or something"...does NOTHING for me. The descriptions are awful, full of "or something" and "or whatever"...spending long lengths talking about a street FULL of women. Tell me about one or two hot chicks-their hair, their eyes, their body. Literally writing "she's hot, they're hot, I can picture her naked" is a waste of paper, ink, and time....ugh, oh and him talking about a 15 year old girl's tits is disgusting. I finally gave up after 30 pages, when he saw his dead wife and thought "that her tits look good".

[Bethany · Rating 5 out of 5]

This needs to be said: “The Death of Bunny Munro” is not a misogynistic novel. I have been tired of hearing about this book from so many people who have clearly not read it in its entirety since it came out three years ago, and that weariness has now grown into homicidal rage.

I am a feminist. I’m also female. I’m offended and ashamed to be human on a daily basis due to the inherent sexism that exists rampantly in things I read, see, watch, and hear. This novel is not one of those things.

Cave crafted his protagonist from definitions of vice put forth by religious and feminist texts to stand as an embodiment of misogynist culture. The reality is ugly, and so the attempt to accurately capture it must and should be ugly. Bunny Munro was intentionally constructed for the specific purpose of being Valerie Solanas’ typified evil male. In order to fulfill this portrayal, Bunny engages in repulsive and repellent actions throughout the book. This is done so that at the book's end he can be killed, raped by the devil, and made to appear on a stage in front of all the women he’s ever wronged and apologize to them. His death is then seen as a happy ending because it implies to us that his son, Bunny Jr., does not need to inherit the same values that Bunny received from his father. The cycle can end.

The story is not sympathetic toward Bunny’s actions. It is sympathetic toward people. It is told from Bunny and Bunny Jr.’s point of view. In Bunny’s narrative, he does not express shame for his actions. If he’s meant to be abhorrent and vicious in a primitive, subhuman way, why and how would he be ashamed of himself? In Bunny Jr.’s narrative, he is as enamored with his father as any other child his age. This is how this kind of attitude toward women transmits from one generation to the next. Bunny Jr. is oblivious to much of his father’s behavior; his father can do no wrong because Bunny Jr. is still at the age where he views his father as the superhero best-dad-on-the-planet figure. If this were not the case, there would be no danger of Bunny Jr. becoming like Bunny.

The shame of what Bunny does is not conscious to the main characters. It’s obvious to the readers and to the characters affected by his actions in the book. It manifests in the novel with the motif of the ghost of Bunny’s wife and the devil man.

There is nothing in the actual novel that supports the idea of an amoral philosophy justifying and excusing Bunny’s actions, and I am baffled to the fullest extent that a human being can experience bafflement every time that I see someone make this assumption. We are called to be sympathetic toward Bunny not because what he does is not wrong, but because we aren't sociopaths and because he is still a human being. Cave is writing from a Christian perspective: he values and chooses to treat all sentient beings with respect and dignity throughout the book. This same philosophy that makes it possible for the author to portray what Bunny does as being wrong is also what makes it necessarily follow that he is deserving of sympathy himself. This does not necessarily imply redemption, but it does involve forgiveness, consideration for others, and making attempts to understand why people are the way that they are and do the things that they do.

"One of the last things Jesus did on Earth was to invite a prisoner to join him in heaven. Jesus loved that criminal. I say, he loved that criminal as much as he loved anyone. Jesus knew. It takes a lot to love a sinner. But the sinner, he needs it all the more." — Augustus Hill (Oz: S05E01, Visitations)

Gathering this conclusion from the evidence in the text does not take consultation from the inductive talents of either Mr. Sherlock Holmes or his real-life ex-FBI “Mindhunter” counterpart, John E. Douglas, to arrive at. I have yet to see one logical argument that sets aside personal biases and pre-conceived notions tied almost entirely to cover artwork and instead examines actual parts of the novel, connects them to the work as a whole, and identifies what about it is problematic in regard to gender dynamics, all the while referring to specific quotations and examples to give credible foundation to these conclusions. All I’ve heard are irrelevant statements on Nick Cave’s personal character and how some of the various covers that the book has been printed with are offensive. I trust I don’t need to remind anyone of a particularly well known idiom regarding cover illustrations and hasty generalizations of written publications.

Yes, sex and objectification of women is rampant in this book. What grand observational skills many readers have acquired from their respective educational systems. That's the point of the book. If you don't want to read about some pervert's obsessive train of thought that objectifies nearly every woman that he comes into contact with and draws disturbing sexual narratives from anything and everything around him, then don't read The Death Of Bunny Munro. If you don't want to read about some sociopath's obsessive thoughts of murder and objectification of humanity, blood, and death, and the disturbing, ever-present narrative of emptiness and morbidity that goes with the territory, don't read American Psycho. If you don't get any of that, then maybe you should stick to Grisham, Clancy, and Koontz. This is what literature is. It uses evocations of particular places, times, events, and people to provide perspective on them and communicate some sort of truths about them. Many things in this world are ugly, disturbing, and upsetting. This particular “male disease,” to quote George Carlin, is one of them. We SHOULD be aware of it as a society.

If you disagree with me on the merits of this novel, that is fine, great, and actually of genuine interest to me. I’d love to hear your reasoning. But only on the conditions that you have read the book in question and you disagree on premises that come from the actual text, not from your emotions, your views of the author as a person, the book’s cover art (which comes from the publishing company), things that you’ve heard others have said about it, the fact that you are shocked by the material, or other such irrelevant details that should have no place in any discussion of a literary work.

Stop drawing conclusions about books you have not read. You wouldn’t venture to do so in a literature class. You would not write in an essay as an explanation sufficient for your literature professor that you hold X opinion about the meaning of this text because the cover it was published with looks like this, or you hold X opinion about the meaning of this text because the author seems like this type of person to you from what you know of them. Why would you want to be less genuine with the way that you behave and the opinions that you hold in your life than you would be in a staged environment like a classroom? Why?

[Karmologyclinic · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you can listen to this audiobook, then please do. Nick Cave and Warren Ellis redefined the concept of audiobooks and set the standard up high. It is a hallucinatory audio experience with a soundtrack, perfect sound engineering and a very expressive narration by Cave.

The book is a horrific merry-go-round in a sexual predator's sociopath mind but it happens that he sits in the same merry-go-round with his 9 year old son and that makes the situation complicated and emotional (grandpa comes for a round or two as well and things get apoplectic at that point).

You can take the narration literally and be disgusted by it, or you can use it as a tool to highlight how personal experience and inner world doesn't always correspond to reality or how other people see you. The moments that Bunny Monro's persona realizes that crack between himself and reality, great psychoanalytical explosions occur and he turns into a frenzy. When guilt ensues, he sees ghosts. His subconscious won't let him out of this situation alive and you already know that by the title. He is a character you don't like but his humanity is exposed and you should empathize with that. We all host little (or larger) Bunny Monros inside us.

The audiobook experience gets a 5 star because I can't give more stars. The book was a 4 star for me, I'm personally uncomfortable when the prose gets too purple and I also would have preferred for the scope of this book to be outward stretched from the individual to the universal.

Not recommended for people who want to like characters and for people that expect a book to give you instructions about what to think, you need to do some work with this one, otherwise you'll only get Avril Lavigne's vagina and Kylie Minogue's hot pants, literally, in your face.

[Meike · Rating 4 out of 5]

Cave's second novel is a wild romp that works with a clash of moods, and it's damn effective. Our protagonist, the title-giving Bunny Munro, is a traveling salesman for beauty products, and at the beginning, his adventures read like a parody on a porn script: Salesman visits lonely housewives, wild sex ensues - plus lots of alcohol, drugs, prostitutes, you know, the whole beat stuff, but the road is not the one Jack Kerouac chased, but we're on the roads of Brighton, England. But then, Bunny's depressive wife hangs herself and he has to take care of 9-year-old Bunny jr. - what will the hedonistic, sex-addicted substance abuse fan do now? While the two Bunnys hit the road to earn money, a killer dressed as the devil haunts Brighton and Bunny's father also has some family-related obligations directed towards his son...

This is of course a peculiar text with a melancholy undertone, and the story plays with the typical ideas of satire, road novel, bildungsroman, drug novel etc., but twists and turns them to evoke humour and celebrate absurdity and the macabre. People who aren't into Cave's lyrical universe will struggle with the content and wonder what this insane book is all about, but everybody who enjoys edgy, fearless (and maybe sometimes a little tasteless) writing will love Cave, the novelist.

We need Mr. Cave's 3rd novel ASAP. Until then, you can learn more about Bunny in our podcast episode.

[Greg · Rating 4 out of 5]

After reading this book I can not think of Avril Lavigne without automatically thinking about what her vagina would look like. The "Complicated" singer's cooter will probably forever be a purple elephant to me, and I'll be 90 years old and "Skater boy" will come on the "Good Times Oldies" podcast, or whatever we'll be listening to then, and the question of what her box looked like 60 years ago will jump into my head.

Sadly that is probably what is going to stick with me long after all the other details of this book have faded from my mind.

The book itself though is nothing like I expected. I knew it wasn't going to be like his first book, I could tell that it wasn't going to be a twisted Australian's distillation of Faulkner and Flannery O'Connor; but I wasn't expecting him to write a book that would sit comfortably somewhere between the dysfunctional family and relationships of Nick Hornby and the straight out dysfunction of Irvine Welsh.

Mostly the book was a fun journey with a pretty misanthropic and narcissistic character and his poor son. I think I might have missed something in the book, but I'm not quite sure what the serial killer with the horns really had to do with anything. Was I just a poor reader? I also have to admit to getting a little confused at the penultimate scene. Well maybe not confused, just surprised at the sharp veer into the fantastical the plot took for a few pages. It was kind of like the ending of the bible in that way.

Ok. That's my review, now it's back to writing my thesis / research paper thingy.

[Sarah Etter · Rating 4 out of 5]

i gave this book to a friend after i read it and he said something that stuck with me forever: "this would've been better as a short story."

there's a lot at work here - the protagonist is an asshole, addicted to sex and booze and fantasies about the vagina of a canadian pop singer. as a woman, reading this, i was both amused and disgusted at turns. i also felt myself urging bunny munro to "get it together, get it together," and that felt odd, that i wanted to mother this pitiful man.

this is a book so seedy that it sometimes smells like rotten cigarette butts and day-old spilled whiskey. just thinking about bunny munro makes me picture the texture of sticky motel carpets or the scratch of wearing a suit on a hot day. if you don't mind the descent into that kind of hell, this is the book for you.

in that way, cave succeeded. he bring us into this terrible world, makes us face this terrible man, and the only way out is to wait for the climax, to watch bunny munro be confronted by everything in a giant fiery blaze. and that part, i thought, was pretty lovely.

[Alex Akesson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Wow! Death is too good for this breed of megalomaniac sociopath........... and his ilk... most of the people who should read this book, probably won't.
Well done Mr Cave, I like a book that really pisses me off.
One hand is clapping, I guess it's my feminine side. The other one is busy wanking off.

[Nigeyb · Rating 2 out of 5]

I wanted to like this, and as someone who is very keen on Nick Cave, and is well acquainted with the city of Brighton & Hove where the story is set, I was confident that this would tick all my boxes. When the book was first published I went to an entertaining launch event where Nick Cave was interviewed by Will Self. I did not read it straight away and now suspect that I'd sensed it was not up to Nick Cave's usual standards.

The story is quite literally about the death of Bunny Munro. Bunny is a travelling door-to-door salesman who sells women's beauty products. His serial infidelities, and other character shortcomings, drive his wife to suicide. The majority of the book describes a road trip (if a few nights in hotels and a few sales calls to customers in and around Brighton and Hove can be called a road trip) with his nine year old son.

The Father-Son road trip echoes "The Road", however in this story the father barely registers his son's needs and feelings, and registers only the vaguest sense of love or responsibility. Bunny Munro is a monstrous character: vain, sex obsessed, egotistical, and deluded. Having created this monster, Nick Cave seems unsure what to do with him and the novel is essentially a sequence of meaningless attempted sexual encounters. There is no character development. Bunny's limited self-insight gives the character nowhere to go and his devoted son can barely work out what is going on. It all feels like a short story expanded into an overlong novel. Even the black humour generally falls wide of the mark. I enjoyed Nick Cave's writing style and the local setting, but beyond that was deeply disappointed by the flimsy story and Bunny's unremitting unpleasantness.

So, whilst this book is a major disappointment, at least we still have a wealth of great music; the memories of many live shows; marvellous film scores; and some brilliant film scripts.

2/5

[Marco Cultrera · Rating 4 out of 5]

I have both the book and the audio-book (read by the author himself), and I ended up listening to the audio-book while completing a repetitive manual task.

I'm glad I did. Nick Cave's voice and delivery are perfect for the twisted events during the last few days of Bunny Munro's life. Also, the many music interludes are fantastic, and really add to the atmosphere.

About the novel itself: Nick Cave is at his best. The man is a genius in creating incredibly compelling and flawed characters and Bunny Munro is no exception. Bunny is as disgusting a human being as it gets, and the juxtaposition with his 9-year old son couldn't be greater. But Bunny Jr. loves his dad uncompromisingly, and with an earnestness that constantly broke my heart through the entire novel.

As I kept listening, looking forward to the end of Bunny's miserable life, so that Bunny Jr. would be free of his poisonous presence before it's too late, gradually I started reconsidering the titular character. Is Bunny Munro just a colossal asshole and a sex addict who brought his misery on himself or it was inevitable, given his past? Or, in other words, am I allowed to feel sorry for him, giving myself whatever justification I need?

The great thing is that I'm not really sure even now, after I finished the book. The David Lynchian ending, as it should, doesn't really answer my question. If, as I suspect, Cave wanted to leave the answer to each one of us, he succeeds.

Great book, just shy of the 5 stars mark, because of a little too much self-indulgence in some of the sex scenes and pop culture references.

[Tosh · Rating 4 out of 5]

Nick Cave's second novel "The Death of Bunny Munro" is really something. One, it's a tight piece of work that is extremely moving about a middle-aged widow who is a traveling door-to-door cosmetic salesman who has a passion for...pussy. Not really women, but just the old in-and-out and then to the next female customer.

The main character Bunny is a man totally out-of-control with his life and surroundings. And Cave captures the down spiral in nice strokes on the page. The main drift (and it is sort of a drift in a Situationist sense) is a road trip to sell his wares with his very disturbed son. And Pop is even worse. With grief over his wife's suicide, Bunny goes on a road to the entrance of Hell. In many ways it sort of reminds me of "The Road," except that this is a better book and the total disaster is all made by Bunny.

Nick Cave is one extremely talented guy, and I am hoping that there will be more novels in the near future.

[Patricija || book.duo · Rating 4 out of 5]

4/5

Knyga kaip beveik iki haliucinacijų aukštos temperatūros sukeltas sapnas, kaip skausminga išpažintis, kaip žiūrėjimas į autoavariją, kuri vyksta sulėtintai, kur skaudės visiems ir dar tiems, kurie net nedalyvavo, kur bus mirusių ir amžiams sutraumuotų, kur vienu metu ir nori stebėti, kad tik nieko nepraleistum, ir mielai nusisuktum, nes dieve, kaip nepatogu, kaip nemalonu, kaip skauda, kaip baisu suvokiant, kad absoliučiai nieko negali padaryti – ką jau ten apie pagalbą šnekėti, bet negali net apkabinti. O veikėjai, nors pagrindinis ir baisiai atstumiantis, o buvimas jo galvoje – beveik kančia, jam nuolat įsivaizduojant įvairių rūšių, drėgnumų, senumo ir plaukingumo vaginas, vis tiek kažkaip savi. O jaunėlis pagrindinio veikėjo sūnus – iš viso angelas, toks tylus kantrybės įsikūnijimas, bailus kiškelis, jaunasis Bunny, kurį labiausiai ir norisi išgelbėti. Gal net jis vienintelis nusipelnęs? O kaip pamatuoti? Kaip ištrinti tą ilgametį poveikį, tą traumos naštą, kurią visi tempiame, kai kurie tokią sunkią, vos pavelkamą, bet pridengtą ekscentriškumais, priklausomybėmis ir tarsi diagnoze varginančiu nesugebėjimu kitų neskaudinti?

Visiškai kitokia Cave knyga nei Asilė, gal net tokia, kokios jis dabar ne(pa)rašytų. Bet vėlgi, tą patį sakiau ir apie kitą jo romaną. Ir tik pabaigoje išlenda tas Cave, kokį pažįstame dabar – viltingas, religingas, duodantis šansus, nes suprantantis jų svorį ir reikšmę. Krikščionis Cave. Klausyti audio buvo nepaprastas malonumas – Audible padovanojo tikrą teatrą, su garsų derme, su paties Cave (spėju) sukurta ir grojama muzika. Viso to derinys su tekstu tik paryškino sapno jauseną, tą siaubingą nuojautą, kylančią įtampą. Nežinau, ar tiesiog skaitant būtų buvęs toks stiprus įspūdis, tokia galinga emocijų bomba. Ir nors tikrai yra vos keli žmonės, kuriem galėčiau tokį romaną rekomenduoti, pati dar ilgai jį prisiminsiu. Ar kada nebenorėsiu jaunojo Bunny apkabinti?

[Mon · Rating 3 out of 5]

Reading Nick Cave is a lot like dating.

Before you start: Wow I can't believe I finally have a Nick Cave in my hand! I've been waiting for 2 months until I can physically see the book back on the shelf. Cave's such a talented musician and original poet (great open-mic by the way), this book can't possibly go wrong.

P. 1-20: what an exhilarating opening! The description is observant without being trivial, dialogue minimal and the characters more philosophical then what Camus and Sartre combined.

P. 20-60: ok....nothing much is happening, they appear to be on a road trip. But I'm sure Cave is just being reserved with his writing and his subtlety will sure lead to something dramatic later.

P. 61-100: They're still on the road. Hmm....

P. 101 - 130: Still driving *yawn* oh well, let's have more sex

P. 131 - 170: Do you want to do something this weekend? What do you have in mind? Nothing? Hmm...*long pause* Maybe I'll go rent some movies?

P. 171 - 220: Look, I'm tired of your pretentious attitude, WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? WHAT HAVE YOU BECOME? DO YOU LOVE ME?

P. 221 - 250: ................

P. 251 - 270: Darling, I know you're trying to make it up by bringing in more crazy characters and David Lynch-ish surrealism. But no, it's too late, too late.

P. 271 - 278: Wait what? That's the end? What happened?


The Break-up:

Sorry Nick, look, it's nobody's fault, we shouldn't blame each other. Somehow we've just drifted apart, these things happen you know. Maybe we're just not right for each other, I'm sure you'll find more a more suitable audience here on GR. It has been an unforgettable, albeit short journey and you have shown me how autobiography isn't the only thing a musician can write. The sex was good as well. So that's it I guess, I'll see you around.


I need a drink.

[Jamie · Rating 1 out of 5]

In 1994, I was unemployed, had moved back in with my father, and was pondering the imponderable: going back to school. Trapped in the mountains of California, I spent my days pretending to look for a job, usually hiding out at my dad’s house reading books. That was when I read Nick Cave’s first novel, AND THE ASS SAW THE ANGEL. I remember being enthralled by his lush, complex sentences and his stark imagery. Looking back, perhaps it was the right time for me to read a tale of a strange boy stuck in a private, angry world. (In some ways, it reminds me now of Iain Banks’s THE WASP FACTORY.) I enjoyed the novel so much that when I met Nick Cave, I had him sign the paperback rather than any of my CDs.

Fifteen years later, Cave’s second novel, THE DEATH OF BUNNY MUNRO, is so bad it makes me scared to ever look at AND THE ASS SAW THE ANGEL again for fear I might find out I was wrong. BUNNY MUNRO is as short on plot as ANGEL was full, and the once complicated language has replaced its David Milch-style cadence and vocabulary for a pastiche of detective novels, riddled with clichés and lazy verbiage. Cave’s Bunny is an oily salesman who travels the road selling feminine beauty products and screwing his customers. His every moment is given over to some lurid fantasy, and as Cave quickly runs out of metaphors for his hero’s cock, they grow more and more tedious and loathsome. It’s no surprise that the book was a candidate for this year's Bad Sex in Fiction prize. I would be truly frightened to read the prose that beat it.

At the start of the book, Bunny’s wife, sick of his infidelity and fearing a killer that is plowing through England carrying a plastic pitchfork and wearing devil horns will come to her town, commits suicide, leaving Bunny alone with his 9-year-old son, Bunny Jr. He is a dreamy boy, with an affliction that makes his eyelids sting so that the very act of looking at the world hurts him. Obviously, this is a book that deals in heavy-handed metaphors. Is it any surprise that the killer’s horns turn out to be real? Boy and father go on the road, with Bunny showing Jr. the ropes while descending deeper into his personal, often surreal hell. I suppose it was Cave’s intention to drag us into hell with him; in that, he succeeds. Reading the book becomes an eternity of punishment.

The book was only made bearable thanks to the audio. For one, there is a some fantastic original music by Cave and his regular composing partner, Warren Ellis. Two, Cave is a fantastic reader, and his deep tones are wonderful to listen to. I’d love to hear him reading a better book than this one. If he can’t write it, I’d be fine if he read from the work of someone else.

[Teresa · Rating 1 out of 5]

Quando há uns anos comprei este livro, enfadei-me logo nas primeiras páginas. Ao ver a série Peaky Blinders, cuja banda sonora tem uma música incrível de Cave, pensei que também gostaria dele como escritor. Ilusão...
O tema, ou estilo, é tipo Charles Bukowski, com todo o mulherio excitado com o protagonista, um vendedor de produtos de beleza, porta a porta, cuja mulher se suicidou. O viúvo, muito traumatizado e consumido pela culpa, mete-se à estrada com o filho. Enquanto o miúdo espera no carro, o pai faz a venda e alivia o desgosto com as clientes. Não li o fim, mas pelo título arrisco adivinhar.

[Ghoul Von Horror · Rating 2 out of 5]

TW: Language, drinking, smoking, depression, cheating, death by suicide, grieving, drug use, toxic parent relationships

*****SPOILERS*****
About the book:
Set adrift by his wife's suicide and struggling to keep a grip on reality, Bunny Munro does the only thing he can think of: with his young son in tow, he hits the road. To his son, waiting patiently in the car while his father peddles beauty wares and quickies to lonely housewives in the south of England, Bunny is a hero, larger than life. But Bunny himself, haunted by what might be his wife's ghost, seems only dimly aware of his son's existence.

When his bizarre trip shades into a final reckoning, when he can no longer be sure what is real and what is not, Bunny finally begins to recognize the love he feels for his son. And he sees that the revenants of his world—decrepit fathers, vengeful ghosts, jealous husbands and horned psychokillers—are lurking in the shadows, waiting to exact their toll
Release Date: September 1st, 2009
Genre: Thriller
Pages: 301
Rating: ⭐⭐

What I Liked:
1. The cover
2. Nick Cave book

What I Didn't Like:
1. Don't like the writing style
2. Sick of reading about nipples and women's bush

Overall Thoughts:
Wow this book starts off so overly sexual and it feels so unneeded in a way.

Holy holy what is this rambling in your face writing? Seriously it's just a bunch of jumble of words thrown together that are just about woman's breasts and having sex.

Imagine asking your son what happened to your beer from your son who just watched his mother being taken away after she is dead.

My heart is breaking for bunny junior. When he describes all the things he's missing about his mother in the grief he's going through it's seriously heartbreaking. I want to give him a hug. Having a father like his who doesn't even care about him is more worried about getting with some woman it's just disgusting.

Final Thoughts:
I dnfed at the halfway point. Just when you started to get an ounce of a story in this book we have to jump into 600 descriptions of women's vaginas, their boobs, and underwear. I wanted to hear more about bunny Junior and his grief because it broke my heart reading about him dealing with his mother's death. That's the real story not this douche father dragging his son around while he's just thinking about vagina the whole time. It never ends we get descriptions of every woman he sees. I'm sorry but I need a story I don't need to hear about some horny guy trying to get with every woman.

I thought I would love this. I mean it's Nick Cave so how could I not love it, but apparently I guess I don't love it. It's a shame too. I love Nick Cave's music but here we are.

The only reason I even gave it two stars was because of bunny Junior and his story. I'll try next time to read the other book from Nick Cave and see if I like it better.

IG | Blog

[Maja Shinigami · Rating 4 out of 5]

Bez ikakvih oklijevanja i sa potpunom sigurnošću mogu reći kako je ovo najsjebanija i najodvratnija knjiga koju sam do sada pročitala. Opis same radnje nema smisla prepričavati jer djeluje isprazno i klišejizirano samo po sebi, čak nepotpuno i deja vujevski. Ovo je jedna od knjiga koju je potrebno pročitati kako bi se doživjela njezina prava bit.
Cave je već više od desetljeća u mojih top 5 najdražih glazbenika/kantautora u bilo kojem postavu ili razdoblju, ne zato što je mračan i depresivan (iako nije na odmet) nego zato jer se mogu prepoznati u svakom njegovom slogu. Za mene, Cave je prototip savršenog umjetnika.
Cave kao pisac ne odmiče daleko od Cavea glazbenika, zbog čega sam odahnula, jer nije rijetkost da se neki umjetnici u određenom području dotaknu nekog drugog područja jer misle da mogu sve i onda se proseru. Možda sam zbog toga i dosta dugo odgađala ''primiti'' Cavea kao pisca.
Njegova genijalnost očituje se i u nizu simbola koje čitatelj skuplja tijekom čitanja, minimalnim dijalozima koji zapravo daju izdašan broj informacija, nadrealnim opisima situacija i činjenicom da u romanu ne postoji nijedan sretan događaj što bi zapravo trebalo izgledati potpuno nerealno i pretjerano, ali ovdje ima savršen smisao.
''Smrt Bunnya Munroa'' iznimno je težak i potresan roman, ne u smislu zgražanja jer čitala sam svašta, već u smislu doživljaja i emocija koji su istovremeno spoj užasa i sažaljenja, a to su ujedno i dvije osnovne krajnosti na kojima se roman i temelji, kroz lik Bunnyja i njegovog sina, Bunnyja Juniora. Bunny Munro je ujedno i antagonist i protagonist, on nije anti-junak nego glavni lik koji se stvoren da ga se mrzi i koji je stvoren da umre, iako je i njegova smrt simbolična, čak nadrealna i spas za one koji ga vole, posebice njegovog sina. Bunny Junior je sve ono što njegov otac nije, lik zbog kojeg vam se zamagli vid od suza svaki put kada čitate njegove odlomke, ne zato što volite djecu (ja ih ne podnosim) nego jer je jednostavno jebeno tužan.
Caveov stil pisanja je odličan, njegove igre riječima, opisi i kontrasti su stvarno izvrsni, bez greške i definitivno ne s ovog svijeta. Kao i sam Cave.
Četvorka jer jer roman, po meni, prekratak.

[Amberly · Rating 1 out of 5]

What started out promising, ultimately felt so entirely fake. The kid speaks and acts like no 9-year-old I've ever met, the main character was dim and unlikable, although that may be the point, if there was one ... it was as if Nick had a wisp of an idea for a song, and stretched and rehashed and repeated just to fill up 300 pages - it's obvious his strength lies in lyrical beauty, especially considering he was able to say the same thing time and time again using different and wonderful metaphors - but this does not a novel make.

- and just so you know - I identify with a cocksman, so don't chalk up my dislike to the subject matter, which is lean at best. I love Cave's music, themes related to all things macabre, but this book never would have seen the light of day if Cave's name wasn't on it.

Loved the part when Bunny gets fucked by the devil.

[Filipa · Rating 1 out of 5]

This book just isn’t for me.
I mean, this book is just a complete nonsense, despicable even. I am sure that if the author wasn’t a famous musician, this book would never have been published. I mean, what’s there to like in a book about a sex addict whose most deep reflections include thinking about Avril Lavigne and Kylie Minogue’s vaginas or any vaginas really? A character who spends his day objectifying women and literally ogling them, invades their personal space and thinks he is irresistible. A man who rapes them (there’s a scene at the end that’s absolutely disgusting) and borders on pedophile. There’s no plot whatsoever in this book, no story at all. We would have saved a lot of trees by not publishing this book and our planet would be a little bit happier.

[Στέλιος Μαρμελούδης · Rating 5 out of 5]

Ο θάνατος του Μπάνι Μανρό μου άφησε θετικές εντυπώσεις. Αν και δεν προτιμώ την αφήγηση σε ενεστώτα και τρίτο πρόσωπο, η πλοκή και ιδιαίτερα η ανάπτυξη των χαρακτήρων με κράτησαν μέχρι το τέλος. Το λεξιλόγιο είναι σε αρκετά σημεία "ακατάλληλο", αλλά ταιριάζει απόλυτα με το ύφος του βιβλίου, καθώς ο πρωταγωνιστής Μπάνι Μανρό είναι ένας άντρας εθισμένος στο σεξ. Κεντρικά θέματα: η σχέση πατέρα - γιου, η ανικανότητα ενός άντρα να είναι σύζυγος και πατέρας, ο εθισμός στο εφήμερο σεξ και οι φαντασιώσεις ενός άντρα, το χρυσό σορτσάκι της Κάιλι Μινόγκ και η Αβρίλ Λαβίν!
Το προτείνω ανεπιφύλακτα.

[Lizzie · Rating 2 out of 5]

A major disappointment.

Given that the title makes the ending somewhat obvious, you'd've thought Bunny's journey toward meeting his maker would offer some kind of dramatic tension. You'd be wrong. Character, plotting and setting are weak, and for a tragedy (which I guess we could label the book,) there is no dramatic arc, just a never ending stream of vaginamania and the rampant misogyny of a man who has no demons to confront - he's already dead man walking. Where is the conflict? The tension? The humanity?


Also, being in the position of living in Brighton, England, where the book is set, I am able to share this with you this: the editing is also a mess. At one point we have Marine Parade, at another the Marine Parade. Nit-picking perhaps but for £16 - in hardback I expect more. As for the aura of Brighton itself, its independent, fish and chip sleazy sea-side vibe are missing, and all we have are a litany of street names to identify my home town as the setting. What's more Portslade might be a ****hole, but the Bronx it ain't.

The two points are for the description of 'the white light' of morning after Bunny's coke binge and a few other poetic images. The other three taken away for a story that all too obviously was written, as the author admits, 'in four weeks.'

[Lori · Rating 4 out of 5]

I mean... the ending is in the title, so no surprises with this one, and it's more about the journey than the destination, anyway. And oh what a depraved and raunchy journey it was.

It's what I would expect from a musician-turned-writer writing about a coked out, liquor loving dude who masquerades as a beauty product salesman but really's just in it for the pussy. And good lord does he get a lot of it, never mind that he's got a wife and kid at home that he doesn't really seem to give two shits about, until his wife takes herself out and then all the walls come crumbling down around him, don't they?

It's a book that makes you feel bad for the bad guy. You really don't want to because he's just such a scumbag, and that poor kid of his, who looks up to him and adores the shit out of him, but fuck it, there you are feeling like you want to reach on into those pages and give him a good shake, and a slap across the face, and then hug the heck out of him because he needs it. And his kid needs a better dad. And you need him to stop being such a god damn fuck up.

That hot pink on black cover is quite hot too.

[Lisa · Rating 4 out of 5]

It 'll probably come as no surprise that I enjoyed this, as it's a rare Nick Cave work that I don't. Additional bonus was due to it being set in Brighton, with the silly little thrill I got whenever I read about somewhere I recognised (I've eaten bolognese in a caff on Western Road. Yay for me!).

Both blackly funny and sad, this tale of a priapic, selfish, self-delusional man and his quiet, sweet little boy in the days following his wife's suicide, and leading up to Bunny's titular death was incredibly readable and contained more than a few memorable moments, although my favourite came right at the end, with apologies to Kylie Minogue and Avril Lavigne. Hehe.

[Malum · Rating 5 out of 5]

I can just imagine Nick Cave hammering this book out in one long, fevered writing session while drunk, high, and sick with the flu, because it's just that weird and twisted.

This is a book that I probably have very little reason to love. The protagonist is one of the most unlikable you're likely to find and the plot is simply his life spiraling out of control. I think what helped was that I listened to the audiobook version, which is a fantastic production. Nick Cave does the narration and it includes music and sound effects. It really is quite an experience, and I suggest anyone interested in this book to go the audiobook route here.

[Metodi Markov · Rating 1 out of 5]

Доста гадна малка книжка, която не заслужава никакво внимание!

Ник Кейв да си се занимава с музика - за писател според мен не става.

Оставих я в парка на едно мероприятие за размяна на книги, с идеята поне някой друг да не си даде парите напразно. Иначе просто щях да я изхвърля...

[☆LaurA☆ · Rating 2 out of 5]

".....Senti, vecchio stronzo rincoglionito. Ma moglie si è appena impiccata alla grata della mia dannata stanza da letto. Mio figlio è di sopra e non ho la più pallida idea di cosa cazzo farò con lui. Il mio vecchio sta per tirare le cuoia. Ho una casa ma sono troppo terrorizzato per tornarci. Vedo dei cazzo di fantasmi dappertutto. Ieri uno stronzo leccafiche impazzito mi ha rotto il naso e ho un cerchio alla testa che nemmeno te l’immagini."

Con questa frase potete intuire lo stile di Cave in questo romanzo.
Avevo amato "E l'asina vide l'angelo", avevo amato la sofferenza dei suoi personaggi.
Anche qui c'è sofferenza, tanta anche.
A tratti sembra di legge Palahniuk, ma c'è qualcosa che stroppia....forse inserisce davvero un sacco di cose pesanti che alla fine restano fini a se stesse.
Sesso, violenza, droga, alcol, fumo, depressione, suicidio, rapporti familiari tossici.....è davvero tanta roba per un libro di 250 pagine.

Se poi contiamo che per 150 pagine si parla di tette e patate (soprattutto quella di Avril Lavigne) le cose diventano uno sproloquio sesso-dipendente.

Volevo conoscere di più questa relazione padre/figlio, il viaggio per scappare dal dolore della morte della moglie/madre e invece mi fa odiare un po' Bunny, perché è uno stronzo che non vede il dolore del figlio di nove anni.
L'epilogo della storia si intuisce dal titolo no? E un po' mi viene da dire....ti sta bene coniglietto stronzetto!

Ah, scopro durante la lettura, che è uscita qualche settimana fa la serie TV di questo libro, non ancora per l'italia, ma chissà se ci arriva qui. Ecco, forse come miniserie può funzionare

☆☆,5

[Reading With Ghosty · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was such a bizarre read...and idk if in a good or bad way. The author must have had a hard on while writing this because my god the amount of obscure sexual content is rampant.

Would not recommend.

[Leo Robertson · Rating 3 out of 5]

Well-written but I don't get it.

Who can resist that cover tho??!