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charlietheninth's review
5.0
Weird but so lovable. Written in a classic children's story tone, good for fans of Roald Dahl. Also good for adults who like Kafka and want to read funny Kafka-lite to their children.
frankisib's review
4.0
Love this--hysterical. Love Horvath and Blackall and love their work together.
jthhhhhhhh's review
4.0
Currently re-reading.
UPDAte: just read this to my 5 1/2 year-old. He broke into uncontrollable laughter every time Mr. Bunny mentioned Madeleine’s “gigantic bottom“.
UPDAte: just read this to my 5 1/2 year-old. He broke into uncontrollable laughter every time Mr. Bunny mentioned Madeleine’s “gigantic bottom“.
voya_k's review
3.0
Canada. Hippies. Anthropomorphized animals. Satire. Big vocabulary. Sophie Blackall illustrations.
hezann73's review
3.0
Talking rabbits, kidnapping foxes, hippies living on an island and Prince Charles all make a showing in Polly Horvath's lastest novel. It's strange, it's a little frantic and at times it's hysterically funny. The only problem is, I have absolutely no idea who I could give it to.
starnosedmole's review
2.0
When young Madeline's hippie parents are kidnapped by foxes, she stumbles upon a bunny couple eager to come to her aid. Farcical, but a bit random in its plotting.
erine's review
4.0
In a word: ridiculous. I think others have covered just how profoundly strange this book is, but it's worth repeating. It's odd, and not just because the bunnies and foxes are talking, nor yet because the foxes kidnap a set of very bumbling parents. The interactions between Mr. and Mrs. Bunny are simultaneously endearing, creepy, and hilarious.
Recommended for: perhaps readers who enjoyed Flora and Ulysses, or Cold Cereal.
My favorite part: the illustration that depicts Mr. Bunny's driving shoes. I almost spit.
Recommended for: perhaps readers who enjoyed Flora and Ulysses, or Cold Cereal.
My favorite part: the illustration that depicts Mr. Bunny's driving shoes. I almost spit.
contrary_baroness's review
5.0
I have read this book aloud twice now with my bunny loving 7 year old daughter. My husband would wander in as we were reading and laugh so hard. It is completely absurd. The story spins and spins out of control until you don’t think you can take it anymore. However, it all comes together in the end.
(Some commentary was provided by the bunny loving 7 year old who would really like to be adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Bunny.)
(Some commentary was provided by the bunny loving 7 year old who would really like to be adopted by Mr. and Mrs. Bunny.)
squeakadillo's review
5.0
Ursula K. Le Guin recently wrote an excellent post about literary awards. The whole thing is thoughtful and thought-provoking, but this passage in particular caught my eye:
"I wish we gave literary prizes freely, the way they used to give prizes at the Pet Show at Codornices Park in Berkeley when I was a kid. Every kid in the neighborhood brought their pet, and every pet got a prize, an ad hoc, unique prize: for Soulfulness — for Loud Meowing — for Unusual Spot Placement — for Being the Only Skink…. There was no Best of Breed (in those days there were many mongrels and few breeds), and certainly no Best of Show."
I very much doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Bunny is going to win the Newbery Medal (though I could be wrong - I used to think there was an upper limit for Newbery weirdness, but then a little book about funeral homes, Hell's Angels, and homicidal octogenarians made the cut). If there were a literary equivalent of Being the Only Skink, though, Polly Horvath would have it in the bag.
And that gets at the heart of my ambivalence about literary awards. I disagree with Le Guin when she says that in "declaring a book as `the best,' a literary award serves that book. It does not serve literature." When Frederic Melcher and the Children's Librarians' Section created the Newbery award, their explicit intent was "to encourage original creative work in the field of books for children." To that end, I think it has met its goal. It has encouraged excellence in writing (and publishing) for children by rewarding excellence in writing for children (with prestige and increased sales).
In that sense, maybe literary awards are most effective within ghettoized genres. If no one believes there's such a thing as aesthetic greatness within children's literature (or science fiction, or romance), the establishment of an award can create a change in perception on the part of both publishers and readers.
On the other hand, this is the age of shrinking shelf space and vanishing bookstores. Awards encourage publishers to give riskier titles a chance in the first place, but if they don't garner the Big One, how long do the books stay in print? There will always be a place on the library's shelves for Polly Horvath, but she'll be in and out of Barnes & Noble in the space of a month, if they ever stock her at all. I guess we'd better hold on to our libraries and our children's librarians: loyal defenders of Only Skinks and other oddities.
But I digress. A lot.
Mr. and Mrs. Bunny is really freaking weird, even for Polly Horvath. The fact that she is listed, on the cover, as having translated the book "from the Rabbit" should tip you off. The plot, such as it is, concerns a sensible little girl whose hippie parents have been kidnapped by some evil foxes (who also own Fox Entertainment, naturally). She enlists the help of Mr. and Mrs. Bunny, who have very recently taken up detective work, mostly as an excuse to wear fedoras.
I described Polly Horvath to Sam as "Daniel Pinkwater meets Kate DiCamillo," but this one obviously has a pinch of Beatrix Potter, and possibly Kenneth Grahame, thrown in. It's hilarious, surreal, and good-natured (with a touch of bite). I will also note that it's so, so nice to see a woman writing unabashedly in the darkly humorous vein. We need more of that.
Sophie Blackall's illustrations complement the text perfectly. They make me want to buy an illustration from her etsy shop. I do worry, though, that the cute bunnies on the cover will put off the weird little boys who will otherwise love this book. Skink defenders, do your work!
"I wish we gave literary prizes freely, the way they used to give prizes at the Pet Show at Codornices Park in Berkeley when I was a kid. Every kid in the neighborhood brought their pet, and every pet got a prize, an ad hoc, unique prize: for Soulfulness — for Loud Meowing — for Unusual Spot Placement — for Being the Only Skink…. There was no Best of Breed (in those days there were many mongrels and few breeds), and certainly no Best of Show."
I very much doubt that Mr. and Mrs. Bunny is going to win the Newbery Medal (though I could be wrong - I used to think there was an upper limit for Newbery weirdness, but then a little book about funeral homes, Hell's Angels, and homicidal octogenarians made the cut). If there were a literary equivalent of Being the Only Skink, though, Polly Horvath would have it in the bag.
And that gets at the heart of my ambivalence about literary awards. I disagree with Le Guin when she says that in "declaring a book as `the best,' a literary award serves that book. It does not serve literature." When Frederic Melcher and the Children's Librarians' Section created the Newbery award, their explicit intent was "to encourage original creative work in the field of books for children." To that end, I think it has met its goal. It has encouraged excellence in writing (and publishing) for children by rewarding excellence in writing for children (with prestige and increased sales).
In that sense, maybe literary awards are most effective within ghettoized genres. If no one believes there's such a thing as aesthetic greatness within children's literature (or science fiction, or romance), the establishment of an award can create a change in perception on the part of both publishers and readers.
On the other hand, this is the age of shrinking shelf space and vanishing bookstores. Awards encourage publishers to give riskier titles a chance in the first place, but if they don't garner the Big One, how long do the books stay in print? There will always be a place on the library's shelves for Polly Horvath, but she'll be in and out of Barnes & Noble in the space of a month, if they ever stock her at all. I guess we'd better hold on to our libraries and our children's librarians: loyal defenders of Only Skinks and other oddities.
But I digress. A lot.
Mr. and Mrs. Bunny is really freaking weird, even for Polly Horvath. The fact that she is listed, on the cover, as having translated the book "from the Rabbit" should tip you off. The plot, such as it is, concerns a sensible little girl whose hippie parents have been kidnapped by some evil foxes (who also own Fox Entertainment, naturally). She enlists the help of Mr. and Mrs. Bunny, who have very recently taken up detective work, mostly as an excuse to wear fedoras.
I described Polly Horvath to Sam as "Daniel Pinkwater meets Kate DiCamillo," but this one obviously has a pinch of Beatrix Potter, and possibly Kenneth Grahame, thrown in. It's hilarious, surreal, and good-natured (with a touch of bite). I will also note that it's so, so nice to see a woman writing unabashedly in the darkly humorous vein. We need more of that.
Sophie Blackall's illustrations complement the text perfectly. They make me want to buy an illustration from her etsy shop. I do worry, though, that the cute bunnies on the cover will put off the weird little boys who will otherwise love this book. Skink defenders, do your work!