In this sequel to Bunny, Sam has just published her first novel to critical acclaim. But at a New England stop on her book tour, her one-time frenemies, furious at the way they've been portrayed, kidnap her. Now a captive audience, it's her (and our) turn to hear the Bunnies' side of the story. One by one, they take turns holding the axe, and recount the birth throes of their unholy alliance, their discovery of their unusual creative powers—and the phantasmagoric adventure of conjuring their first creation.
Unfortunately, for a lot of this novel we’re stuck inside these people’s heads. Bunny, it’s not always pleasant there ... Awad’s great gift lies in her ability to deftly weaponize prevailing notions of good taste ... I admit that Awad’s enthusiasm for a Netflix-ified version of gothic...sometimes made me want to beg for mercy ... Maybe this book is either too fun to hate or hating it is fun, even if it lacks the complexity of the original Bunny. ... Here’s some wisdom seldom taught in school: If you aim at anything too frequently, you’ll inevitably miss the mark.
This follow-up has the key strengths of the original, particularly its scabrous satire on upper-middle-class American femininity ... There is a brinkmanship to this kind of satire; it can all too easily cross into misogyny. But while Awad happily annihilates these characters, she seems to get a real kick out of femmeness ... Suffers from a certain sequelitis. It’s baggier than the original. Its metaphors for creativity feel less earned ... Inhabiting their loathsomeness becomes a bit of a chore. This is redeemed, however, when we come to the last voice of the novel ... Awad is here to show us that romantasy can be serious literature, and nothing can really be too camp.
Awad adds another brilliant roast of academia to the shelves, once again unmatched in playful language. Readers will laugh to tears and be fully immersed in this ethereal trip back to Warren.
