The Burrow

I had to wait a long time to borrow Melanie Cheng's The Burrow from the local library. It's a small and exquisitely formed novel, about a small group of people (and one rabbit): Jin and Amy, their ten year old daughter Lucie, and Amy's mother, Pauline, who is forced to move in with the family after breaking her wrist. They are all negotiating the death of baby Ruby, three years before, and dealing with Melbourne Covid lockdowns.

Ironically, when The Burrow finally became available, I wasn't sure if it was the right time for me to read it. My own elderly mother recently broke her wrist, and my family is dealing with the recent death of a beloved pet. When I read about Lucie adopting a fragile mini-lop rabbit (yes, we've had rabbits, too), my heart sank. Could I handle a novel about grief and loss, especially one that was so intimately relatable?

But The Burrow is so gentle, so delicate, it's like softly pressing a wound to see how much it hurts. Though the book opens with everyone locked inside their own suffering, as the story unfolds, connections are made and the world begins to open up again. This is a beautiful miniature novel, and though it didn't take long to read, it was worth the long wait.