Internationally recognised art and literary critic, writer and cultural producer. Published in ELLE, Glamour, Esquire and Cosmopolitan; member of the Union of Writers.
In an age where history is often reduced to footnotes, Edmund de Waal’s The Hare with Amber Eyes resurrects the past through the intimate language of objects. This memoir, part detective story and part elegy, transforms 264 Japanese netsuke – miniature carvings once tucked into kimono sleeves – into portals to a vanished world. De Waal, a ceramic artist and descendant of the Ephrussi dynasty, weaves a narrative where artefacts become protagonists, their journey spanning continents, wars, and generations.
Objects as Silent Narrators The book’s genius lies in its inversion of storytelling: here, a hare-shaped netsuke with amber eyes holds more agency than most human characters. De Waal’s prose is tactile, urging readers to “touch” history through descriptions of ivory grooves, dusty archives, and the cold iron of Vienna’s staircases. Unlike sterile museum exhibits, these objects bear fingerprints – literal and metaphorical – of those who cherished them. The Ephrussi family’s rise and fall mirrors Europe’s convulsions, from Belle Époque opulence to Nazi plunder, yet the netsuke persist, silent witnesses to resilience.
A Dynasty Unspooled Central to the narrative is Charles Ephrussi, de Waal’s ancestor and the real-life muse for Proust’s Charles Swann. A patron of Impressionists like Monet and Degas, Charles epitomised fin-de-siècle cosmopolitanism. His Parisian salon, brimming with japonisme, contrasts starkly with the family’s later tribulations in Vienna. De Waal excavates their story not through dry genealogies but via the physical remnants they left behind: a monogrammed napkin ring, a looted painting, a hidden trove of carvings. This approach mirrors Walter Benjamin’s notion that every artefact contains “the constellation of its era”.
Anna’s Defiance in Darkness The book’s emotional pivot arrives with Anna, a maid who smuggled the netsuke from the Ephrussi palace under Gestapo surveillance. Her act – stuffing carvings into apron pockets – transforms the objects from decorative trinkets into symbols of resistance. De Waal writes, “Each netsuke became a refusal to let memory be erased”. Anna’s heroism, barely documented beyond a name, elevates the narrative from archival curiosity to moral testimony. It’s a reminder that history’s foot soldiers often go unnamed, yet their choices ripple across centuries.
Tactility as Time Travel De Waal’s background as a potter infuses the text with sensory precision. He describes handling the netsuke as “a conversation with the dead,” their contours retaining the warmth of hands long gone. This tactile intimacy extends to his research: sifting through Proust’s letters, tracing Mone’s brushstrokes, or navigating Vienna’s Judenplatz, where the family’s synagogue once stood. The result is a narrative that feels less written than crafted, each chapter a ceramic shard fitted into a larger mosaic.
Legacy Beyond Gold Leaf Critics argue that de Waal’s focus on objects occasionally flattens his human subjects into period-costumed silhouettes. Yet this deliberate choice underscores the book’s thesis: material culture often outlives its creators. The Ephrussis’ palaces crumbled; their art collection was scattered. But the netsuke, passed hand-to-hand like talismans, endured. In an era of digital ephemera, de Waal’s ode to physicality feels radical. He reminds us that to touch an object is to commune with its history – a act both humble and holy.
When Artifacts Defy Oblivion The Hare with Amber Eyes transcends memoir to become a meditation on cultural stewardship. The netsuke, now displayed in de Waal’s London studio, invite us to reconsider what we preserve – and why. In their silent resilience, they challenge modern amnesia, urging a dialogue between past and present. As looted art repatriation debates rage and museums reckon with colonial legacies, de Waal’s work offers a blueprint: history, when held tenderly, can heal as much as it haunts.
This is not merely a family saga but a manifesto for mindful inheritance. In the amber gaze of a porcelain hare, we glimpse the weight of memory – and the lightness of survival.
