“Powerful memories from a masterful chronicler of a sprawling family living through the glories and tragedies of Poland over the 19th and 20th centuries.”

“A stunning family memoir . . . that reads less like a conventional memoir and more like an intimate cultural history. . . . This is a triumph of remarkable breadth and capacity, and those drawn to history and lived memory will be enthralled.”

“Olczak-Ronikier 'tells the story with a tender matter-of-factness that makes it come alive . . . Indeed, nothing in this wonderful tale is obvious, nothing is predictable.'”

“The saga of their lives and the four generations who followed them reads like an epic novel . . . a coherent, moving, and fascinating story.”

“Like a great Russian novel bursting with colorful, wildly different characters, In the Garden of Memory presents the human side of the long, rich, poignant, story of Poland from the late 19th century through Partition and two World Wars. Olczak-Ronikier’s relatives are impassioned rebels and patriots; poets, translators, psychiatrists and writers; women struggling to nurture their professional ambitions despite the burdens of gender; and entrepreneurs in publishing and bookselling. We get to know each of them as they navigate the precarious dissonance of being proudly Polish and Jewish. It’s a masterful, multi-generational, portrait of a family that endures even as their world descends into chaos.”

“The book’s engaging text is accompanied by a treasure trove of family photographs, letters, diary entries, and other historical ephemera peppered throughout each chapter. These visual elements combine with the author’s engrossing storytelling to create an intimate, yet sweeping, saga. A poignant, tour de force story of survival across multiple generations of a Jewish family. . . . an instant classic.”

"There is much to this family story that is universal. The early years of Julia’s widowhood when the children do without many pleasures, followed by the inheritance that pays for luxurious travel and the confident pursuit of husbands for her daughters with dowries funded, read like a Jewish Victorian novel. The descriptions of Russia in 1937 are terrifying. Her account of the years of hiding from the Germans is powerful. . . . The life to which [the Horwitzes] had been raised was so rich in art and poetry, so cosmopolitan and materially comfortable, that it is easy to see how they missed seeing the catastrophes that loomed ahead. At least there were gifted storytellers among their ranks.”