A mother, father and daughter living in an inner-urban house in a state of perpetual renovation. A visiting grandmother. And a little mini-lop rabbit.
These are the protagonists of The Burrow, a short novel set in Melbourne during the final days of the pandemic, when restrictions were lifting but the sense of tension and isolation had not yet lifted. It’s five years since baby Ruby died, and the whole family is drifting, stuck, living together but coming apart. Jin and Amy, the parents, live separate lives, while ten-year-old Lucie is quietly struggling with anxiety and intrusive images of trauma and death.
As the novel begins, the father, Jin, has just bought a baby rabbit in an attempt to cheer Lucie. At around the same time, Pauline, Amy’s mother, comes to stay while recovering from a fall. The rabbit could be seen as a symbol of vulnerability, I suppose, and growth, and finally, hope. But Fiver – named after a creature in Watership Down by Richard Adams – is as well observed in all its rabbitty ways as the other characters. Fiver and Pauline act as catalysts for change as Lucie bonds with them both. By the end of the novel, there’s been a shift, and their lives can begin to move again. More than that, there’s hope.
This is a short (yay!), tender, reserved book. Cheng gently probes rather than thrashes out these big issues, using the alternating viewpoints of the four main characters. I enjoyed the delicacy and reserve of the writing. Cheng explores so much about modern life, not just the effect of the pandemic. Loneliness and isolation, grief and guilt, the complexities and contradictions of love. For all that, it doesn’t seem like a heavy book; Chen has a delicate touch.
How good to discover a new writer! I’ve already ordered her other two books. Room for a Stranger and Australia Day, from the library.