The Hare with Amber Eyes: A Hidden
Inheritance. Edmund de Waal, Vintage, London, 2011.
Readers’ reactions to
the book differed widely according to their past experience, among other things.
The writing is good,
although the beginning in particular seems slow-moving and quite hard to get
through. The author tends to write in short, terse sentences, with plenty of
historic-present-tense verbs. Quite easy to parody, but basically well crafted
and sustains interest. An interesting note in the preface explores the author’s
reasons or motivations for writing and especially what does not motivate
him (p. 15).
It is a book about a journey,
or rather journeying: both that of the netsuke
collection, and EdW’s own. For the netsuke there is a process of attachment
and detachment along the way, being acquired, owned, valued or not valued
differently, and passed on to someone else. The author takes you with him on
his journey. He does not know where the journey is going to lead him, and
neither do you. A totally enjoyable process, even for those who generally like
books with a plot. There isn’t one, but by the end of it the reader has
acquired a fair amount of meaningful historical information and has been on a
journey of discovery; the netsuke are the thread that holds the whole thing
together.
The author’s journey
takes him notably to Tokyo, Paris, Vienna, Kovecses (Hungary) and Odessa, in
the process of journeying into the lives of his family’s past members. It is not
a travel book, because of the tremendous sense of place.
It is a book that needs
to be re-read to get the most out of it as there is so much to take in. Not
only to read again but to study and discuss. It is a fantastic angle on the history,
especially the social history, of Europe in the 19th and early 20th century,
and Japan in and after World War 2.
Eileen, an artist
herself, enjoyed the beautifully crafted writing, and the rich masses of information
about different artistic styles and movements in the course of the book. You
identify with EdW’s appreciation of this little work of art that is a netsuke,
so fine and small, over which a craftsmen had spent ages: they are objets d’art
and worth studying for themselves. The value of a thing is all the human effort
that has gone into making them. He spends time on the tactile value of the
netsuke, to others and to him as a craftsman himself. This was especially
interesting to Eileen because of her mother’s belongings: she bought things
carefully, individually, planning what she was going to buy and whom for
– a Wedgewood dinner-service she wanted her son to have, etc.: “This is
beautiful,” she would think, “and I want it for so-and-so…”
Readers can appreciate Edmund
de Waal’s sensitivity; this appears to be a tendency inherited from his
ancestors and family, and he wants his children to have the netsuke; at the end
of the book he installs a vitrine for them at home. All of this is in stark contrast
to our current pervasive throw-away culture. The book makes one realise how
unpleasant and alienating this culture is; and to want things that can be
valued. Carelessness breaks and spoils things; the approach of the artist helps
everyone to re-learn a love of things that have value and meaning. Costly and
beautiful and material things have a meaning. There are so many reasons for
valuing an object: De Waal really explores what happens when people value an
object; just as an artist he didn’t want the things he had made to be lost or
thrown away.
The story of the
netsuke takes us to World War 2 Europe, and how the Jews – in this case the
Ephrussi family of Vienna – were forcibly detached from their prized
possessions. It is an effective introduction to what used to be called “the
Jewish question”: why the Jews were disliked by so many members of their host
countries: the book does not explain it so much as exploring it. It was
particularly helpful to readers who had already seen Simon Schama’s programmes
“The Story of the Jews”, especially the one about the Enlightenment. EdW’s
family were assimilated Jews – Charles Ephrussi in 19th-century
Paris; Viktor and Elizabeth in Vienna – they professed no religion, but what mattered
was the clan, the family.
Other readers may find
that there is no character in the book that they sympathise or can identify
with in any way. The human angle is deliberately undeveloped, the relationships
are dealt with from a historical angle. One may miss the fleshing-out that a
historical-fiction approach would have brought; EdW restricts himself to
appreciative history with a minimum of speculation.
