Two things, yes it's THAT Nick Cave and no I didn't buy it for the cover. Actually the cover of the version I have is all red and only has the title and author text that takes up the entire cover. The lady at the bookshop where I bought this told me that there was a more offensive cover (she wasn't offended but there were complaints) but that it had been reissued with something less 'grabby'.
So as I post this is the first time I've seen the cover, and the cover is pretty lightweight based on what's actually inside the book and if the picture is of the scene that I assume it is, well it's much worse than what people were probably complaining about.
On to the book. It's vicious and dirty, cathartic and revealing as well. It's not a book I'd recommend to many people, but not because of the content so much as the content. I know that's a bit backwards, but the story is redemptive, reads like a David Lynch film plays out and in the end is so full of metaphor, self loathing and fantasy (guilt induced) that I couldn't help but feel that it wasn't intended to shock or disgust, or even confront the reader. It felt more like the author just wanted to speak without boundary or internal censorship. It's not a treatise on the human condition, nor a shock fest for the genre lovers.
The death of Bunny Munro is a psychological balancing of the scales, for one man who could be all of us, but in truth is none of us. I can picture Nick Cave acting this out in my head, and hear the sympathetic timpani of his voice running through it's narration. Loved the language and the style and unencumbered nature of his observations. Everyone is up for it, in our minds and in our fictions, we usually never publish them in general terms.
Next Week: Sway (The Irresistible Pull of Irrational Behavior) and a return to non-fiction in attempt to wade through all the behavioral science books I have...
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