✭✭✭✭✩ (3.7/5)

Trigger warnings at the end if anyone is curious enough and/or needs them!

══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══

Who should read it?

Okay, so here’s the deal—Bunny is definitely for a very specific kind of reader. If you’re into dark, surreal stories that dig deep into things like identity, loneliness, and just the whole messy, confusing journey of trying to belong, this might be your book. It’s one of those slow burns that totally messes with your head, so if you're down for a trippy dive into magical realism, you’ll probably love it. Oh, and if you’re someone who’s into satirical takes on creativity, conformity, and female friendship, you’re definitely gonna vibe with this.

BUT... Bunny is NOT for everyone. If you can’t stand unreliable narrators, or if the idea of a fever-dream narrative just makes you wanna pull your hair out, maybe skip this one. Also, if you’re not into super stylized, metaphor-heavy writing that’s kinda all over the place (which some may say makes it great), then yeah... this might not be your thing. But for the right reader? It’s a haunting, mind-bending, totally unforgettable experience that’ll stick with you long after you turn the last page. Seriously.

══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══

My Review and Overall Opinions

So, it's been a little over a week since I finished Bunny by Mona Awad and—get this—almost a WHOLE MONTH has passed since I started reading it. Crazy, right? Time flies when you’re... confused, mildly bored, and also kinda obsessed? Yeah, I have thoughts, so let’s dive in!

First off, the basics: Bunny is a darkly comedic, genre-bending rollercoaster that blends satire, horror, and psychological thriller. The story centers on Samantha Heather Mackey (Smackie, if you’re feeling casual), a socially awkward grad student in a creative writing program at this super fancy university. She’s lonely and totally out of place, especially when it comes to this group of girls known as the “Bunnies.” At first, she can’t stand them—they’re rich, quirky, and totally not like her. But, surprise surprise, she ends up getting sucked into their bizarre little world anyway, thanks to the workshop they’re all a part of. And let me tell you, things only get weirder from there. :)

As Smackie gets deeper into their strange, almost cult-like dynamic, everything just starts to unravel. The Bunnies? They're not just quirky—they’re downright unsettling. The more Sam gets involved, the more the lines between what’s real and what’s a total fever dream blur. Creepy rituals? Check. Disturbing experiences? You bet. This whole thing spirals into madness in a way that’ll have you questioning reality. Seriously, buckle up for a surreal, creepy rollercoaster. Bunny is not just a story—it’s a wild, weird experience.

Okay, let’s start with the negatives because, honestly, there were a few.

I’m just gonna say it—I don’t think I like magical realism. Like, I get that it’s part of the book’s charm, but MAN, I just don’t like it. It’s kind of like a weird thing with me because I LOVE the imagery and aesthetic, but I find it SO slow. Like, dragging slow at times. I did think DNF-ing it, not gonna lie. The magical realism parts felt like a fever dream I couldn’t wake up from, and while that might be some people’s vibe, it wasn’t always mine.

A lot of readers compare this book to the movie Heathers, and I can see why—it has that chaotic, confusing, dark vibe. But honestly, I didn’t love Heathers (the movie) either, so... whoops!

That said, despite all this, the more I thought about the book after finishing it, the more it stuck with me. Like, it burrowed into my brain and wouldn’t leave (kind of like the Bunnies themselves?). Hence the upgrade from a 2.5 to a 3.5.

Now, for the good stuff because, believe it or not, there’s a lot I LOVED about this book.

First of all: THE COVER. It’s pink, pretty, and totally my aesthetic. I’d frame it and hang it on my wall if I could. And the title? Iconic. I love bunnies (I’ve even been called one, but we don’t need to get into that, jajajaj).

The Workshops the Bunnies do are a trippy highlight. Imagine if Project Runway met Frankenstein, but make it pink. The Bunnies' creations are beautiful, grotesque, and sometimes both. It's like Awad is asking: how far would you go to make your art perfect? To belong? To be special?

And then can we talk about the writing for a second? Because honestly, it’s doing something so brilliantly subtle, I love it.

Let’s talk writing for a sec—because Awad is doing something brilliant and subtle here. Some people find her stylized, flamboyant language obnoxious, but I think it’s a perfect match for the book’s themes, especially as Samantha spirals further into her fractured identity and becomes entangled in the Bunnies’ collective mindset.

Here’s what I loved: as Samantha starts losing touch with herself, she gradually stops using the Bunnies' individual names/nicknames and starts referring to them all as “Bunny.” It’s such a small detail, but it’s such a brilliant marker of her mental descent. You can trace her deterioration through this shift in language:

Cupcake > Caroline > Bunny

(Meh > Bad > WARNING!)

And then it gets even more fascinating—she starts abandoning the singular “I” and uses “we” (think, “we bunnies”, “us the bunnies”, etc.) At first, I thought it was just a quirky reflection of their speech patterns, but in actuality, THIS IS A LITERAL DESTRUCTION OF HER SENSE OF SELF. The more she gets absorbed into their world, the more her individuality dissolves. You can see this psychological fragmentation happening on the page, with each shift in pronoun usage. It’s almost as though her identity is being erased through the very structure of her language.

(Side note: Is it strange that I find that strangely beautiful? Because I absolutely do.)

Yes, this could’ve easily felt gimmicky, but it works so well because it’s not just telling you that Samantha is losing herself—it’s showing you. This kind of writing, where the narrative form mirrors the emotional unraveling of the protagonist, is exactly the kind of literary brilliance that makes my heart beat faster.

Talking about the Bunnies—I loved them. The Bunnies—Caroline, Eleanor, Kira, and Victoria—are a surreal and enigmatic group at the heart of the novel. They are an exaggerated caricature of insular, hyper-feminine, and co-dependent friendships, blending dark satire with an unsettling psychological edge. I loved the Bunnies for who they were and their distinct, unsettling personalities.

Their obsession with unity and perfection suffocates individuality, echoing Samantha’s struggle to maintain her sense of self in a world that demands conformity. Their art is grotesque, but so is their process. What they create is both beautiful and monstrous—a reflection of the painful and often destructive pursuit of artistic perfection. In their hands, creation becomes an act of violence as much as it is one of beauty.

The aesthetic and ambiance of the book were absolutely mesmerizing. It’s very much me-coded, ngl. Think axe with a pink bow on top. :) The entire vibe of the book was so captivating, and I fell completely in love with the imagery.

(If I had to describe myself as a Bunny, I’d say I’m a mix of all of them—but mostly The Duchess and Creepy Doll, with maybe a hint of Cupcake (because I, too, appreciate a good cupcake and their lovely smell)).

Pro tip: Google “Bunny Mona Awad fanart” on Pinterest. The art not only deepens your connection to the story but also helps keep track of who’s who, especially since the book blurs the boundaries of reality and imagination in ways that can get very confusing.

I adored how Samantha is drawn to the Bunnies, not just by their creative brilliance but also by their magnetic, if toxic, sense of belonging. Yet as she dives deeper into their world, she realizes that their tightly knit bond is suffocating and, ultimately, destructive. To me, the Bunnies are both a warning and a reflection of what Samantha could become if she loses herself entirely in their universe.

Additionally, the Bunnies also reveal Samantha’s deep yearning for belonging and the lengths she’s willing to go to feel like she’s “part of something.” They blend saccharine sweetness with violent, destructive impulses. They embody societal pressures on women to be nurturing, beautiful, and unified while suppressing their darker emotions. Meanwhile, Ava, Samantha’s friend, serves as a stark contrast to the Bunnies. She represents individuality and defiance, offering a counterbalance to their unsettling world.

So, now that we mention her, let’s talk about Ava. She’s the edgy, sarcastic girl who’s too cool for school—the one rolling her eyes at everyone else’s drama, chain-smoking, and probably blasting punk rock in her car. Compared to the Bunnies, who are all sugary smiles and "oh-em-gee bunny help me tie my ribbon!" energy, Ava is the sharp, cutting counterbalance. Her vibe? Pure “ugh, seriously?” anytime the Bunnies pull something cutesy.

But here’s the twist: Ava’s not just the “cool friend.” She’s Samantha’s anchor, her sounding board—the only person Sam feels connected to at first. Ava’s all, “You don’t need those airheads,” which sounds empowering, right? Like she’s encouraging Sam to stay true to herself and reject the Bunnies. But… is she really?