The Happy Campers did a clever thing here... dashed off to see Edmund de Waal doing his main event at the Festival before rushing athletically up the hill ahead of him to be at the dovegreyreader tent for his conversation with us straight afterwards, and I am so pleased they did because I missed this, and now I feel as if I was there.
So handing you over to one very Happy Camper who I know is speaking for both of them, and for reasons that will become apparent I have decided to let Angela's words speak for themselves so no pictures...
Edmund de Waal
Some very personal reflections...
This was always going to be the highlight of the festival for me – hearing Edmund de Waal, who wrote my read of the year, The Hare with Amber Eyes - and it is still only July! I was pleased to learn in the festival guide that we were being treated to a ‘special event created for Port Eliot’; a walk through the five cities of the book.
Edmund de Waal takes the stage and admits to feeling slightly daunted by the occasion. He was here last year, but it doesn’t feel any easier, he says.
If anyone is expecting a conventional travelogue supported with photographs or other images they will be surprised but not disappointed. Staying true to his convictions about how description can be powerful and evocative using only words, Edmund de Waal leads us all on a walk in the style of Charles Ephrussi, that accomplished flâneur.
We stop, we look, we loiter, we marvel, we ‘see all of human kind, meeting and having adventures’ in the streets of Paris and Vienna, Tokyo, Odessa and London. Edmund de Waal takes us to each city in turn. We begin in Paris, where Charles Ephrussi lives at No 81, Rue Monceau. All the families who live in this street have come from elsewhere, having made fortunes abroad, and wish to proclaim that they have arrived – they are newly minted, and want their houses to proclaim that they are here to stay. I stand outside the Ephrussi house, which practises the art of subtle display. Edmund de Waal calls it the art of being ‘invisible in plain sight’. I remember why I found The Hare with Amber Eyes so compelling. The author describes things so you feel you are there too; looking up at the five storeys, each eight windows across, and then over to the cast iron grilles at ground level with the E for Ephrussi forged into their design.
We can’t stay in Paris as long as we would like, on to Vienna. Here, you move even slower than you do in Paris. Crowds of demi - mondaines, the ‘pressed trouser brigade’, promenade along the Ringstrasse, which is full of yet more splendid buildings. Opera house, theatre, art gallery, parliament, city hall, university - I need to look up to appreciate these ‘adventures in architecture’. I laugh when Edmund de Waal calls the Palais Ephrussi a ‘terrible building’. Everything is gold, he explains, and I imagine what things inside are inappropriately gilded. We leave Vienna but not before we have been given a glimpse of Freud, in consultation with an Ephrussi great aunt…..
Tokyo now. We go on a ten minute walk up a steep hill from the station. I don’t think Charles Ephrussi would be able to stroll up here as easily. The contrasts of Tokyo are evident – the frantic pace of development is all around, but alongside is the quiet temple and a great old wall, behind which there are pine trees. I can visit the best sushi chef in the area, who is next to the baker. I am thrilled when we stop outside Uncle Iggie’s apartment. He is one of my favourite characters from The Hare with Amber Eyes, but we must move on.
Dust, dust and more dust. To escape it I am now walking under the chestnut trees in Odessa. This is a city that doubles in size every 10 years but most successful people leave it to settle somewhere else. The street where I have been transported to now is the main grand boulevard of Odessa which contains a whole series of grand palais, and of course the Palais Ephrussi is here too, next to the banking hall and trading house. We can peer around the back of the Palais, and notice that the back is constructed of rough stone, unlike the façade, which is much grander. Fur coat and no knickers, I giggle to myself. If I don’t want to rush, Odessan style, it doesn’t matter; Edmund de Waal reminds us that there are different ways of walking around cities.
Our walk finishes in London. The final part of the journey takes us back to the author’s studio which reminds me that although he has written this brilliant book he is first and foremost a potter. My selfish hope is that the pots are put to one side every now and then to allow time for Edmund de Waal to spend time writing.
All too soon we are back where we started. The walk has been possible because we have had the best kind of guide; someone who knows where he has come from, who knows where he is going and who can point out all the fascinating sights along the way.
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