Bunnicula: A Rabbit-Tale of Mystery (Bunnicula Series #1)

by Deborah Howe, James Howe Narrated by Victor Garber

Overview

Notes From Your Bookseller

A snarky cat, a cupcake-loving dog, and a vampire bunny — what more can you ask for from a beloved children’s book? First published in 1979, Bunnicula has captivated generation after generation with its quick-witted prose and hilarious cast of characters. Readers of all ages are sure to enjoy reading (or re-reading) this treasured classic.

BEWARE THE HARE!
Is he or isn't he a vampire?

Before it's too late, Harold the dog and Chester the cat must find out the truth about the newest pet in the Monroe household -- a suspicious-looking bunny with unusual habits...and fangs!

Editorial Reviews

From the Publisher

"Bunnicula is the kind of story that does not age, and in all probability, will never die. Or stay dead, anyway..."
— Neil Gaiman

"The most lovable vampire of all time."
— J. Gordon Melton, author of The Vampire Book

"Move over, Dracula! This mystery-comedy is sure to delight."
— New York Times

Product Details

BN ID:	2940169407761
Publisher:	Penguin Random House
Publication date:	03/11/2008
Series:	Bunnicula Series
Edition description:	Unabridged
Age Range:	8 - 11 Years

Read an Excerpt

What happened I do not remember now. Not all of it, or even most. Who said what to whom, and why. The details of the days. But the days themselves, these I remember as one long day passing inevitably into one long night.<

I am speaking of the days that stretched from July 1977 to June 1978, but the story begins before then -- in the spring of 1977, although I can't recall the day or week or month; earlier still, in the fall of 1969, the fall of 1964, in August of 1946. I was born that month, on the second day, in Oneida, New York, the youngest of four brothers and the only one to be born in a hospital and not at home. Debbie, the first child of two, was born ten days later, on the twelfth of August, in a hospital in Boston, Massachusetts. We met at Boston University in the fall of 1964, married in New York City in the fall of 1969, and began to write a children's book in the spring of 1977.

It was evening, just after dinner, when we sat down at our kitchen table, the wooden table I had painted a lustrous tomato-red soon after we'd married, and began to write.

I still have the scrap of paper from that evening. The misspelling and handwriting are hers. Oh, yes, most definitely her scrawl, so like tangled hair it was sometimes impossible to decipher. Were we drinking coffee? There's a stain on the paper that leads me to believe we were. Why do I see her standing at the kitchen sink, her head cocked to the side, her thick black hair falling over one shoulder? Why do I hear her laughing? Is it because she laughed so easily, or is it because in writing the book we were just then beginning, we would laugh so often? I see -- or imagine I see -- the look in her eyes that said: Who are we to think we can write a book? Who were we indeed?

Text Copyright © 1979 by James Howe

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