THE BURROW follows a family unit of three, formerly four, their newly adopted bunny, and their mother/grandmother/mother-in-law. Each short chapter shifts perspectives and takes you through their lives through the lens of their relationships.
It’s set in the tail-end of the Melbourne lockdowns (those bleak days of lockdown technically lifting but the world seeming sort of half-vacant and inherently infectious), which sets up the narrative’s sense of isolation even further. Instead of claustrophobic though, it feels cosy, in a (bear with me) weighted blanket sort of way where yes, it’s technically a bit oppressive, but once you sink in to the feeling it provides a lot of comfort.
It’s a beautifully self-contained story that zeroes in on the daily processes of coming together after a loss, the way that that grief impacts each person differently (and how it also then affects the others, too). It’s much more slice-of-life, but reminded me of what I loved in Weike Wang’s Joan is Okay with its economy of word choice (it never feels sparse, but it’s very precise), and although a wildly different book, the exploration of grief and family that I loved from Saraid de Silva’s Amma.
