I have a penchant for rabbits. They are small and cute and soft and make me squeal every time I see them. If they weren’t so destructive, I’d probably own one. When I see them, I always say hi and wish them a good dinner.
Why am I talking about bunnies? Well, since I’m reading books about writing (fiction, not craft books) I figured I’d keep the theme going after The Writing Retreat and read Bunny, a book by Mona Awad about a prestigious New England MFA program that, as you can imagine, involves bunnies.
Part of the fun of this book is knowing where most of it takes place. Like most of my physical library (of which I am not ashamed to admit) I acquired this book a while (read: years) before I read it. I bought Bunny back in 2019 when it came out, while I was attending a MFA program in Rhode Island and living in Boston. I’m actually glad it took me this long to read, because Warren, the MFA program described in Bunny, is Brown’s.
Now, do I know this? No, I don’t. I’m not Mona Awad. However, there are too many examples of Providence being cited for it to *not* be Brown:
The reference to the artsy school down the hill (RISD)
The reference to Ivy’s
The references to Providence’s less than stellar criminal and safety history1
The physical names of streets that can be found in Providence
Mona Awad got her MFA from Brown
So for this to not be Brown is…disingenuous at best. Now, you might be asking yourselves, why do you care?
I am from a small town in the Western Mass area that is known for literally nothing. In the maps of Massachusetts, I grew up in the area that’s usually marked with a question mark or, ‘there be dragons.’
I grew up knowing no one of consequence that came from my area of the world, and I was constantly searching for it, or for any reference in the popular media of the time that where I was from, where I lived, was important.2 So when I read fiction now, whether its fantastical or not, and I can identify the place or have a personal connection to the setting? Chef’s kiss. I once again, become this meme:
So I read this book in Providence, and I think it enhances the overall reading experience. I have cursory experiences with Brown,3 but I could relate to the stunning obtuseness, the occasional insanity of higher ed, and the general tomfoolery of collegiate life. What also enhanced the reading experience: me reading this book in a genetics office, and me bleeding all over it. Both are surprisingly on theme. I managed to give myself a paper cut while reading, and when I turned back, some of my blood was splattered onto the page. An ill omen, indeed. Reading is a dangerous business.
Bunny is a dark satire, and honestly, my biggest complaint was how many fictional rabbits were harmed in the making of this tale. Don’t hurt the bunnies!!!! I even saw one out on a walk and almost started crying. They are pure! They are innocent! They are soft and fluffy! Don’t use them for your dark magical summonings ok?????4
Great, now that we’ve agreed upon that, I do think Bunny captured the absurdity of insular arts communities. In this case, a writing MFA program. I thankfully did not have much of this at mine. Crucially, I did a low residency MFA, which is not what the book describes. The book describes a traditional MFA, or what you would consider traditional grad school: stop working, and give up 2 years of your life to study and get your Master’s. My program was meant to be done in tandem with a full time job or other work. I did most of my work remotely, over computers and telephones, and only went to campus twice a year, for 10 day long intensive seminars. Would I have loved to just ensconce myself in books and words for 2 years? Absolutely. Did I have the money to do that? Absolutely not.
I already had a link to the real world, as I had to balance my course work with my job. The characters in this book don’t - or, at least, they start losing their grip on reality without this crucial linkage. One of my favorite scenes is when a janitor encounters our protagonist, and just shakes his head at her, reminding her that, ‘The real world lady, it's out there. Do you even know that? You're going to have to get back to it sometime.’5
Why do I love this? It’s incredibly silly and incredibly true, like all of the best things in life. Because I absolutely have been both the janitor and our main gal. I, too, have gotten too lost in my own head, too far down the rabbit hole (ha) of stories and imagination that I’ve started to lose my grip on reality.6 But, I’ve also had to be the janitor: reminding myself that no, I cannot keep isolating myself and keeping to my thoughts, and that I have to go outside and touch grass, as the youths™️ would say. What’s heartbreaking for our protagonist is that she doesn’t have that network of outside support to help ground her and remind her of what’s important, making it all the more easy for her to slip into absurd cult activities. When a cult is your only option for community, suddenly the bloodthirsty rituals don’t look half bad.
Once again, this book captured something crucial about the culture and experience of writing that is not the writing itself. Like with The Writing Retreat, the actual art of creating words is not the point. The insane cult like activities is.
Reading about the actual act of writing isn’t that interesting. Unless your character is on drugs or in some kind of fugue state where you can play with language a bit, it’s pretty cut and dry. That’s not to say I begrudge Mona Awad or Julie Bartz for choosing these tactics. It’s more that I’m noticing them, and I’m not sure how I would do better.
The interesting parts about the writing are when the writers are *not* writing. Otherwise, the physical act of putting pen to paper or hands to keyboard usually can be summarized in a few sentences. If I were writing about my MFA program or how I write my novel, I’d make that choice, too.
So! What did we learn after our little perusal through books inspired by Writing™️? (Unless you know of any other books because, truly, I don’t!) Well, don’t join a cult, beware of being invited to restricted/remote buildings in the middle of the woods, don’t hurt rabbits, and if you want to read a novel about writing, you’re looking in the wrong place.
Until the early 2000s, Providence was a rough place. The head of the New England mob lived here. Check out the first season of the podcast Crimetown if you want to know more
Needless to say, I don’t live there any more. Draw your own conclusions.
Mainly tagging along to the free events sponsored by their MFA programs
You hurt a bunny on my watch and I’m excommunicating you. You, too, Elmer Fudd.
Awad, Mona. Bunny. Head of Zeus, 2020. Ayyyy, another footnote doing its job!!
I have at least two mental illnesses, after all. The third is questionable on the best of days, real apparent on the worst of them.