I just started reading Under a White Sky by Elizabeth Kolbert. Her beat is environmental catastrophe, so it’s actually terrible bedtime reading. And then I have a collection of poems by an indigenous New Zealand author, Tayi Tibble, called Poūkahangatus. I’ve read a few and they’re dazzling. For fiction, I just started reading The Taiga Syndrome, which is by Cristina Rivera Garza. It’s kind of a detective novella, but so far more of a meditation on discovery itself. It’s really good. In her acceptance speech, Gunty cited recent comments made by poetry nominee Sharon Olds about literature's essential role in society. Gunty called books a path to calling attention to those "neglected" and otherwise not visible. One of the most talked about debuts of the year so far, Tess Gunty’s The Rabbit Hutchfeels like a cult classic in the making.” —i-D Ditum, Sarah (August 3, 2022). "The Rabbit Hutch by Tess Gunty review – a riveting debut about love and cruelty". The Guardian . Retrieved November 17, 2022. Harris, Elizabeth A. (October 4, 2022). "Here Are This Year's National Book Award Finalists". The New York Times . Retrieved November 17, 2022.

A tasty, if not always tasteful, tale of supernatural mayhem that fans of King and Crichton alike will enjoy. Sheehan, Dan (August 26, 2022). "Tess Gunty has won the inaugural Waterstones debut fiction prize". Literary Hub . Retrieved October 12, 2022. In the years Foer has known Gunty, he has come to seek out her advice. “She is one of three people I go to when I need an idea that I can’t come up with on my own, when I am puzzled and seeking clarification about something in the world, when I simply want a wise opinion,” he added. This started off so well. I was immediately intrigued by Blandine, I loved the initial world-building Gunty was doing and the bizarre cast of characters she was introducing, and I had very high hopes. Unfortunately, the further I got into the book, the more they evaporated and I ended up ultimately underwhelmed and pretty disappointed.Vibrant . . . A tour de force . . . Gunty intimately understands that settings can be characters in and of themselves, and in this, the novel excels; The Rabbit Hutchis as full of character as the cast.” —Eleni Vlahiotis, PopMatters Original and incisive . . . This is an important American novel, a portrait of a dying city and, by extension, a dying system. Its propulsive power is not only in its insight and wit, but in the story of this ethereal girl. . . . She is so vibrantly alive and awake that when I finished this book, I wanted to feel that. I wanted to walk outside. I wanted what is real. I wanted to wake up. Tess Gunty’s The Rabbit Hutch is breathtaking, compassionate and spectacular.” —Una Mannion, The Irish Times The Rabbit Hutchfollows a series of characters endowed with idiosyncrasies as bizarre as they are fascinating. . . . As with the best polyphonic novels, the town of Vacca Vale becomes a character in and of itself—its deterioration takes turns mirroring or standing in sharp contrast to the psychologies of Gunty’s characters.” — Annabel Graham, Bomb I now appreciate growing up in a place where the brutality of industrial appetites was visible. My high school was situated across from a dog food factory, which paused production during school hours but was active in summers, when I had soccer practice twice a day. Running 8-miles of intermittent sprints in 99-degree heat with 100 per cent humidity through the pungent odor of fish guts is an experience you never forget. (I couldn’t resist placing a dog food factory across from Blandine’s high school in the novel.) In America’s popular, pricey, coastal cities, modes of production—the machines, chemicals, and labor that facilitate our conveniences—are mostly concealed. But in so many neglected regions of this country, the Anthropocene is visible everywhere you look. In a city like South Bend, the price of industrial convenience is one you pay, and the consequences are far more hazardous than a bad smell. The cancerous chemicals of coal mines, factories, and farms are in your soil, your water, your baby, your air. The extractive economy is visibly extracting from your family, making your parents sink in debt, making your sister infertile, turning your cousins into conspiracy theorists. Your childhood friend met his wife in treatment for opioid addiction. CW: There is some not-very-graphic killing of animals which will be disturbing to some readers. It says a LOT about how well-written and addicting this book is that I continued to read in spite of it. I can end up hating a book just because there's a half sentence saying someone spotted a dead turtle on the side of the road - and yet this book remains five solid stars.

Original and incisive . . . This is an important American novel, a portrait of a dying city and, by extension, a dying system. Its propulsive power is not only in its insight and wit, but in the story of this ethereal girl. . . . She is so vibrantly alive and awake that when I finished this book, I wanted to feel that. I wanted to walk outside. I wanted what is real. I wanted to wake up. Tess Gunty’s The Rabbit Hutchis breathtaking, compassionate and spectacular.” —Una Mannion, The Irish Times Then she walks home to eat, take care of the administrative tasks that come with publishing a book and, most important, write. And rewrite. She’s working on her second novel, “Honeydew,” which will be published next year. You were raised in South Bend, Indiana. To what extent were you thinking of South Bend while you were writing about—and building the world of—Vacca Vale? Gunty was born and raised in South Bend, Indiana. [1] [5] She graduated from the University of Notre Dame with a Bachelor of Arts in English and from New York University with a Masters in Fine Arts degree in creative writing. [6] [7] Career [ edit ] The Rabbit Hutch,” out next Tuesday, opens with the protagonist literally exiting her body. Blandine Watkins, a brilliant and striking 18-year-old fresh out of the foster care system, lies bleeding on the floor of her apartment. “[S]he has spent most of her life wishing for this to happen,” the narrator clarifies. “The agony is sweet.”The realm of imagination and exploration in these stories made me think of David Foster Wallace — whose dense work included a look at the darkness of American culture. Gunty writes with such compassion for her characters as they build their lives and assert their agency in a country that utterly disregards them, and in particular Blandine’s bright, fierce curiosity for the world kept me moving through the story; she’s a warrior, an intellectual force, a young woman who refuses to be disempowered. This is a skillfully told, beautiful, human story.” —Corinne Segal, Literary Hub, “35 Novels You Need to Read This Summer”