The Burrow is a beautiful exploration of family and the impact that grief and guilt can play in shaping a home. This is a slice-of-life story told through rotating perspectives (a mother, father, young daughter, and grandmother), and while the inciting incident for the story is the acquisition of a pet bunny, the story is really about a family healing in the wake of an unthinkable tragedy. Even though the content is undeniably sad and so many scenes caused my heart to ache for this family, Cheng also skillfully infuses her story with humor and hope. This is another winner from Tin House, and I am grateful to have received an advanced reader copy. (Thank you to Tin House and NetGalley!)

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC! This one was released from Tin House Books in the US on November 12th, 2024.

In The Burrow, Melanie Cheng crafts an evocative exploration of grief, family, and the quiet, often unseen struggles that accompany deep loss. Set four years after the tragic death of Jin and Amy's six-month-old daughter, Ruby, the novella delves into the aftermath of this unspeakable tragedy through the eyes of four family members—Jin, Amy, Lucie, and Pauline—as they navigate the delicate and painful process of healing. The arrival of a pet rabbit into their home, initially sought as a distraction for Lucie, becomes a poignant symbol of the complex web of emotions that each character grapples with. In alternating perspectives, Cheng masterfully paints a picture of each character’s inner turmoil, from Lucie’s resistance to naming the rabbit, to Amy’s struggles with writing and reconciling with her estranged mother, to Jin’s chest pains, a manifestation of unresolved grief.

Cheng’s writing is beautifully introspective and emotionally charged, with each sentence carrying the weight of unspoken sorrow. She uses vivid metaphors and sensory details to immerse the reader in the characters' experiences, creating a sense of both internal and external tension. Describing grief as something that gnaws at the body—comparable to a necrotic wound—Cheng brings physicality to the emotions her characters feel, making their pain palpable and raw. The language is often contemplative, allowing the characters’ internal reflections to slowly unfurl as they navigate their unspoken truths. It’s a style that invites the reader to sit with the complexity of loss, to feel the deep ache that lingers long after a loved one is gone.

At its heart, The Burrow is about the quiet perseverance of a family trying to rebuild itself in the wake of unthinkable loss. The presence of the rabbit, though small and seemingly insignificant, serves as a catalyst for connection and healing, a gentle reminder that care, even in the smallest forms, can offer a measure of solace. However, the novel also examines how grief remains an enduring presence, often unspoken, as characters adjust to new roles and relationships. The tension between independence and interdependence plays out throughout, as Jin and Amy struggle not only with their grief but also with each other, revealing the often fragile nature of family bonds.

In a broader sense, The Burrow reflects on the difficulty of finding meaning in the aftermath of trauma, particularly when the pain is both internal and external. The pandemic backdrop adds an additional layer of isolation, intensifying the characters' struggles and further complicating their path toward healing. Cheng’s deft handling of these themes—grief, isolation, family dynamics, and the search for healing—makes The Burrow a beautifully poignant meditation on how we survive loss, not by forgetting, but by finding ways to keep going, even when it feels impossible.

📖 Recommended For: Readers who appreciate introspective and emotionally charged prose, those interested in exploring the complexities of grief and healing, fans of literary fiction that delves into family dynamics and loss, and readers who enjoy meditative, character-driven narratives.

🔑 Key Themes: Grief and Loss, Family Dynamics, Healing and Reconnection, Finding Meaning in Trauma, Hope Amidst Despair.

Content / Trigger Warnings: Gore (minor), Suicidal Thoughts (minor), Death of a Child (moderate), Pandemic (severe), Medical Content (minor), Grief (moderate), Infidelity (moderate), Sexual Content (minor), Self Harm (moderate).

I featured this book in a new release video prior to publication and was very excited to read this. I love stories about grief [weird to say but true], especially when it's exploring family dynamics within that theme. Will update when final review posts, but I'm expecting 5 stars!

e-ARC from NetGalley.

A family, torn apart by grief, finds themselves coming back together again after purchasing a little rabbit.

The characters of this story are very flawed. They are selfish and prone to acts of pettiness. And yet, despite the insights into their mourning and their toxicities, I didn't know these people.

This is a hard novel to encapsulate into so few words. Mostly because, at any given moment, I never felt as though I had truly been invited inside of it.

A quiet and beautiful portrayal of grief and resilience, THE BURROW is among the very best books I’ve read this year. Set during the beginning months of the pandemic, the book focuses on a family devastated by the death of their younger child four years earlier. There is a new pet rabbit to care for, a distraction of sorts, but somehow the rabbit becomes a catalyst for connection and vulnerability for a family paralyzed by the events that led to their baby’s death. It is not a tragic read but a story about an ordinary family, with its inevitable highs and lows, that feels so utterly recognizable. The book is short but deeply impactful. Many thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for the advance copy. All opinions are entirely my own.

In The Burrow, Jin and Amy decide to cave under pressure and adopt a baby bunny for their daughter Lucie in the hopes that it might be the thing to finally lift the family’s spirits following the passing of Lucie’s baby sister, Ruby. But with the mounting pressure of unprocessed grief, untold secrets, the pandemic, and other family stressors, this new addition to the family might just be the last straw.

The Burrow is a short, but medium-paced, character-driven literary fiction novel that explores the ways that grief and loss can take a toll on a family system. It’s told in alternating third person perspectives, with the full details of what happened to Ruby becoming clearer as the narrative unfolds, which adds to the tension between the characters. Each character navigates the loss and contributes to family dysfunction in their own unique ways, and the author does a great job crafting a lot of complex emotions into a succinct and cohesive narrative. If you love character-focused and/or emotional narratives, I think you’d enjoy this one. On the other hand, if you need a ton of action in your books, this one might not be for you - and I would avoid it if you don’t want to encounter darker themes (e.g. death of a child, loss, grief). But this one really worked for me.

*Thank you to NetGalley and Tin House Books for the complimentary eARC for the purpose of an honest review!*

Thank you Melanie Cheng and her publishing team for the advanced reader copy of this literary fiction novel that delves into the complicated world of child loss, infidelity, and hidden resentments.
I appreciated how short this book was: I don't think a book needs to be a serious whopper in order to say something powerful or important. I think Melanie Cheng did a great job of processing these emotions in her characters without being too 'on the nose' in a sense. She really explored the different perspectives in different ways in a way that I appreciated. I wouldn't say it was altogether too memorable or a fan-favorite, but definitely worth the read!

Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for providing this eARC.

The Burrow follows the Lee family as they adopt a pet rabbit in the wake of a family member's death.

This book was beautifully lyrical, chock full of interesting characters and rich themes, and also spectacularly concise. Though short, it is mighty, and it frankly knocked the wind out of me in the best of ways. The story at its core is poignant, beautiful in its simplicity, and masterfully captures the strange, difficult feelings of isolation that came with the COVID pandemic. I've never read Melanie Cheng before now, and I'm starting to think that is a mistake I will quickly need to rectify.

I wanted this bleak look at a grieving Australian family during the pandemic to be something more. The chapters move from family member to family member and it's very effective writing, but not much actually happens except for the author eventually explaining a tragic event from five years earlier. Maybe I'm just not ready to look back at 2020 quite yet, but it felt pointless to me. .

I liked how this relatively short novel consistently unspooled the inner thoughts and workings of its four main characters: Amy, Jin, Lucie, and Pauline, navigating unimaginable grief amidst the uncertainty and isolation of the COVID-19 pandemic era. Each chapter centers around a character's perspective, and throughout the narrative, the audience learns detail after detail about life pre- and post-Ruby, the unseen, yet omnipresent force that propels the family to great despair, longing, and resentment. This book is in line with some recent titles like "The Friend" by Sigrid Nunez (also featuring a prominent animal presence), "Western Lane" by Chetna Maroo, and "The Furrows" by Namwali Serpell. I'm instantly drawn to these sorts of "grief narratives," and in turn, might unfairly rate them against each other. There's much to be said over a quiet novel that delivers its story efficiently without drawing unnecessary attention to itself. Some might criticize that high level of interiority as being boring or false, but I found it to be one of the novel's greatest assets. The characters were flawed and raw throughout, grappling with harsh realities that they weren't prepared to properly handle. My favorite character here was, of course, Fiver, the aloof, unassuming, and defenseless pet rabbit that nudges its way into the psyches of each family member and forever changes them. Sadly, the ending disappointed me, leaving the family in a rushed and somewhat unearned space, along with an ambiguous plot point that bugged the hell out of me. I would have personally had a greater connection with these characters had the perspectives been written in first person instead of third person. Overall, a gripping entry that I would recommend to others.

Thanks to NetGalley and Tin House for eARC access.

A slow and gentle novel of a family navigating grief. The Lee family is living through the lockdown of the pandemic while trying to come to terms with the loss of a child. Each family member is dealing with the anguish and guilt (whether deserved or not) of their roles in the tragedy. While the book is well-written it didn't resonate with me. I wasn't able to relate to any of the characters, nor did I find them particularly likeable. The book moved very slowly, too slowly for me to really enjoy it.

I think I can confidently say that I’m not a huge fan of covid-era fiction. However, this novel (despite the covid setting) was sweet, pensive, thoughtful, & focused on a family entrenched in grief. The rumination of traumatic events & the loss of a child are heavy & well-written. My heart was specifically invested in the younger daughter, Lucie, as she traverses the tense & often strikingly uncomfortable situations she is put through between her father, grandmother, and especially her mother. Grief can be pretty tricky to encapsulate in writing - but using the perspectives of several characters was a brilliant way to showcase how it can manifest. I applaud Melanie Chung for that. Overall, I don’t think I’d pick up another quarantine-specific book again as it did impact the amount of enjoyment I got from it.

Thank you to Net Galley, Tin House, & Melanie Chung for an ARC of this novel - I greatly appreciate it!

Can a rabbit heal a family? This novella lyrically describes the grief of Jin, Amy, and Lucy about the death of baby Ruby, whose demise is tied to a medical emergency suffered by her grandmother Paulie. The arrival of the rabbit, Pauline, and COVID coincide. This is gentle even when it's a punch. Thanks to Netgalley for the ARC. I'd not read Cheng before but I will seek her out in the future.

This is such a lovely book! I admire its brevity; the shorter length feels exactly right for the story. (Kudos to the author and publisher for recognizing that and not trying to make it longer with unnecessary padding.)

I fell completely in love with the Lee family especially as they deal with their grief in such a trying time. Each family member is carefully rendered, and we are pulling for them to grasp onto hope in the form of their new pet rabbit. There is a leisurely pace to the story, but don't get me wrong, there is plenty of plot to keep us turning the pages. I especially admired how the author combines a meditative quality with an intriguing narrative and absolutely beautiful character work.

I will look forward to more from this author.

Highly recommended for fans of literary fiction.

Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for an advance e-galley; all opinions in my review are 100% my own.

4 ⭐️. What a beautiful, lyrical book about grief, navigating COVID lockdowns and the bonds that keep us together (and also pull us apart). This short read had me wanting more and more.

TY to Tinhouse Books & NetGalley for the advance reading copy in exchange for an honest review.

Quietly haunting and heartbreakingly hopeful.

“The most beautiful thing about my burrow is the stillness. Of course, that is deceptive. At any moment it may be shattered and then all will be over.“ ~ Frank Kafka, The Burrow.

Four years ago, the Lee family - father Jin, an emergency doctor; mother Amy, a writer; and their 10-year old daughter Lucie - faced unthinkable tragedy when their baby daughter Ruby died in a drowning accident. Now very much three strangers sharing a home, separated by their individual grief and finding themselves even more isolated in the middle of a global pandemic, „The Burrow“ starts with Jin bringing home a pet rabbit for Lucie. The tiny, fury creature disrupts their estranged family and shatters their uneasy, reluctant routines almost as much as the unexpected arrival of Amy‘s mother Pauline does. Told from the viewpoints of these now four humans, „The Burrow“ examines how they, to varying degrees, take an interest in and take care of the bunny while being forced to finally confront long-simmering fears and guilt.

„The Burrow“ is a relatively short read, and perhaps blessedly so, because once I started it, I had a hard time putting it down. Written in lyrical, concise prose, the tense, lonely atmosphere in the family home, along with the looming threat of a global pandemic, felt almost physical, with respite and, ultimately, healing coming in the unexpected fury form of the new family pet. Quietly haunting in its tangible description of loss, grief, guilt, and its aftermath, the novel doesn‘t shy away from the trauma at its core, but proves ultimately hopeful in the way the family members start finding their ways back to themselves and each other.

A splendid, noteworthy, moving, and beautifully written novel.

Thank you to NetGalley and Tin House Books for the ARC in exchange for my honest review.

„The Burrow“ is slated to be released on November 12, 2024.

Loved this completely original look at grief and family. I enjoyed the writing and the story kept me interested and pulled at my heart strings in equal measure. I'm excited to read more from the author.

For being a 200ish page book, this one felt a lot longer.

I loved that this novel took the aim of a family pet being the thing to keep a family together through grief and loss. It was even better that it was a non-typical pet: a rabbit.

Thank you to the author, publisher and Netgalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.

I began this book without knowing where it could take me. I felt like I was missing parts of the story where I was waiting for it to be explained. I wish the grandma would have given a clearer explanation of what happened on the day of the incident. I think she was more central to helping the family than the rabbit, which felt more like a side character. I did like the grandma and the little girl more than her parents. I only think it was rough for me to read the dad’s perspective because of how he treated his wife after the hardship they both went through. Overall, it did take me awhile to finish the book. I wish there was more to the ending of the story, I did not feel like there was a moment where I thought they felt they could move on and focus on their growing daughter.

***Thank you to NetGalley and the publishers for the ebook.


This is a hard one to describe, but still lovely. Heavy with grief and very open about the way it changed each of them, Jin, Amy, Pauline and Lucie. The characters while maybe not likeable...were very believable. Jin cheated on Amy and losing their 6 month old daughter significantly impacted all of them. Jin's own feelings about his inadequacy as a physician and how empty he felt, and Amy--who was resentful and relieved to be away but then the worst happened. There are lots of moments that are easy to dwell on and I enjoyed how both flawed and forgivable each character was.
Even though it was a quick read, the pacing was well done and closure was still reached for each of them.
Also a great quote from the beginning of the book that I think wraps up the energy of the novel very well:

‘The most beautiful thing about my burrow is the stillness. Of course, that is deceptive. At any moment it may be shattered and then all will be over. “The Burrow” - Franz Kafka.’