Edmund de Waal, a renowned ceramicist, embarks on a journey to uncover his family's past through a collection of 264 miniature Japanese carvings called netsuke. These intricate objects, none larger than a matchbox, link five generations of the Ephrussi family, a wealthy Jewish banking dynasty that once shone brightly in 19th-century Paris and Vienna.
The narrative follows the netsuke from their acquisition in belle époque Paris, where they graced the salons of a burgeoning art collector, to their eventual passage as a wedding gift to Vienna. As the family's fortunes rise and fall against the tumultuous backdrop of the 20th century, culminating in the devastating losses of World War II and the Holocaust, these small carvings become silent witnesses to immense wealth, cultural assimilation, and profound displacement. They are smuggled to safety by a loyal maid, becoming almost the only physical remnant of a vast empire. This book explores how these objects carried the weight of memory, loss, and continuity through a century of art and tragedy, revealing a family's enduring legacy.
In the quiet apartment of a great-uncle in Tokyo, a collection of 264 tiny Japanese netsuke lay housed within a vitrine, each miniature carving a whisper of a forgotten world. Among them, a small hare with eyes of amber seemed to hold a particular gaze, beckoning one to listen to its silent history. These exquisite objects, no larger than a matchbox, became the starting point of a journey, a meticulous unraveling of a family's century of opulence, intellect, and profound loss.
The story begins in the glittering salons of late 19th-century Paris, where Charles Ephrussi, a scion of an immensely wealthy Jewish banking dynasty, cultivated a passion for art. He was a man of discerning taste, a collector, and a patron, whose circle included Impressionist painters like Renoir and Degas. It was in this vibrant, intellectually charged atmosphere that Charles acquired the netsuke, drawn to their intricate beauty and the burgeoning craze for Japonisme. These small carvings, depicting everything from drunken monks to snarling tigers, were not merely decorative; they were a tangible connection to a world both exotic and deeply personal.
From Paris, the collection traveled as a wedding gift to Vienna, to Charles's cousin Viktor von Ephrussi and his beautiful, artistic wife, Emmy. Their magnificent Palais on the Ringstrasse became a hub of culture and intellectual life, a testament to the family's assimilated grandeur. The netsuke found a new home in Emmy's dressing room, where her children, including the young Iggie and his sister Elisabeth, would play with them, each allowed to choose a single carving to hold while their mother prepared for society balls. The smooth ivory and wood, warmed by countless touches, absorbed the laughter and quiet moments of this privileged life.
Yet, beneath the surface of Viennese high society, a chilling undercurrent of antisemitism began to stir. The Ephrussis, for all their wealth and cultural contributions, could not escape the rising tide of prejudice. The illusion of safety shattered with the Anschluss in 1938, as Nazi forces swept into Austria. Their grand palace was seized, its priceless art and possessions looted, and the family scattered, their world brutally dismantled.
In this moment of terror and systematic erasure, a quiet act of courage preserved the netsuke. Anna, the family's loyal maid, risked her life, secretly removing the tiny carvings from their vitrine, piece by piece, and hiding them in her straw mattress. As the Nazis ransacked the Palais, she kept them safe, a silent testament to enduring loyalty amidst unimaginable cruelty. After the war, when Elisabeth returned to the ravaged city, Anna presented her with all 264 netsuke, a small, precious inheritance salvaged from the ruins.
The netsuke then continued their journey, carried by Elisabeth to England, and later by her brother Iggie to his apartment in Tokyo, where they rested in a vitrine overlooking the city. It was there, decades later, that a great-nephew, a ceramicist himself, would encounter them during his studies. Fascinated by their tactility and the scant family lore surrounding them, he embarked on a quest to uncover their full story, piecing together fragments from archives, letters, and whispered memories.
This quest led him across continents and through generations, from the Odessa origins of the Ephrussi banking empire to the artistic ferment of Paris, the devastating fall of Vienna, and the quiet refuge of Tokyo. Each city, each life, added another layer to the netsuke's narrative, revealing how these small objects bore witness to both the dazzling heights of European Jewish culture and its profound destruction. They became vessels of memory, embodying the resilience of a family scattered by persecution, yet bound by a shared, unbreakable thread.
Through the tactile beauty of the netsuke, the story unfolds as a meditation on identity, belonging, and the enduring power of objects to carry history, touch, and the very essence of human experience across time. They are more than carvings; they are survivors, silent chroniclers of a tumultuous century, whispering tales of love, loss, and the persistent pulse of life.
What other readers say
Liked
Many readers praise "The Hare with Amber Eyes" as a unique and compelling work that skillfully traces a multi-generational family history through the journey of a collection of small Japanese ornaments. Reviewers highlight the author's exquisite writing style, often described as having an artist's meticulous attention to detail, language, and evocative potential. The book is lauded for its fascinating descriptions of historical periods and cultural milieus, from Belle Époque Paris to pre-war Vienna, bringing these settings and their influential inhabitants to life. Readers appreciate the deeply researched narrative, offering an authentic and moving account of a Jewish family's experiences, intertwined with major European historical events and the enduring power of memory and objects.
Disliked
Despite its many strengths, some reviewers found the book to have a slow beginning, particularly in its early focus on art connoisseurship and the material wealth of the Ephrussi family, which some felt came at the expense of character development. A recurring criticism centers on the family's perceived self-absorption and sense of entitlement, with some readers struggling to sympathize with their plight, especially in contrast to the overlooked loyalty of their household employees. Concerns were also raised about the author's occasional factual inaccuracies in historical or linguistic details, and some felt his personal artistic endeavors were irrelevant to the narrative. Furthermore, a few critics questioned the ethical implications of the family's acquisition of Japanese artifacts, perceiving a lack of acknowledgment for the origins of these objects or their subsequent purchase from impoverished sellers.
In short
Overall, "The Hare with Amber Eyes" is regarded as a rich and ambitious work, though one that may require patience from its readers. Its unique blend of memoir, history, art, and biography creates a profound meditation on heritage, loss, and the significance of material objects. While some found it less engaging due to its detail-oriented approach or the challenging nature of its characters, many consider it a deeply affecting and rewarding read. This book is particularly recommended for those who appreciate meticulously researched family sagas, European history from the late 19th to mid-20th century, and narratives that explore the intersection of art, culture, and personal identity, especially readers interested in Jewish history or the tactile beauty of crafted objects.