Author: Chloe Dalton
Published: March 4, 2025 by Pantheon
Format: Hardcover, 285 pages
Genre: Memoir
Blurb: Imagine you could hold a baby hare and bottle-feed it. Imagine that it lived under your roof and lolloped around your bedroom at night, drumming on the duvet cover when it wanted your attention. Imagine that, over two years later, it still ran in from the fields when you called it and slept in your house for hours on end and gave birth to leverets in your study. For political advisor and speechwriter Chloe Dalton, who spent lockdown deep in the English countryside, far away from her usual busy London life, this became her unexpected reality.
In February 2021, Dalton stumbles upon a newborn hare—a leveret—that had been chased by a dog. Fearing for its life, she brings it home, only to discover how impossible it is to rear a wild hare, most of whom perish in captivity from either shock or starvation. Through trial and error, she learns to feed and care for the leveret with every intention of returning it to the wilderness. Instead, it becomes her constant companion, wandering the fields and woods at night and returning to Dalton’s house by day. Though Dalton feared that the hare would be preyed upon by foxes, stoats, feral cats, raptors, and even people, she never tried to restrict it to the house. Each time the hare leaves, Chloe knows she may never see it again. Yet she also understands that to confine it would be its own kind of death.
Raising Hare chronicles their journey together, while also taking a deep dive into the lives and nature of hares, and the way they have been viewed historically in art, literature, and folklore. We witness first-hand the joy at this extraordinary relationship between human and animal, which serves as a reminder that the best things, and most beautiful experiences, arise when we least expect them.
My Opinion: I’ll admit it: my education is apparently lacking, because I had no idea there was a difference between a rabbit and a hare. Chloe Dalton set me straight on that within the first few pages, and from there, the book kept gently expanding my world in ways I didn’t expect.
This novel is slow, but intentionally so. It carries the same meditative stillness that settled over so many lives during the COVID shutdown. When someone who’s used to constant motion suddenly can’t travel, can’t rush, can’t outrun their own thoughts, what’s left is time. And into that quiet space, a tiny leveret arrives and changes everything.
This memoir isn’t about the grand arc of a life or a catalog of personal struggles. It’s about a moment; one suspended, tender season where a woman learns to move at the pace of a small, wild creature who trusts her without hesitation. It’s part memoir, part natural history, part animal husbandry, and somehow also a gentle reminder of what it feels like to breathe again. The slower rhythm of the writing mirrors the way Chloe herself slows down, shifting from a manic political adviser to someone capable of offering a calm, steady presence to a fragile animal.
Trying to explain this book to someone else is almost impossible. You end up saying, “It’s about a woman and a hare and… their coexistence,” and people stare at you like you’ve lost the plot. But they won’t understand until they read it. Until they feel the quiet trust, the unexpected beauty, the soft exhale that comes at the end.
For me, every bit of it worked. The history, the animal care, the emotional highs and lows all wove together into something quietly profound. It’s a book about noticing the world again, about the kind of connection that only happens when life finally slows enough for you to see it.
And I loved every minute.
In February 2021, Dalton stumbles upon a newborn hare—a leveret—that had been chased by a dog. Fearing for its life, she brings it home, only to discover how impossible it is to rear a wild hare, most of whom perish in captivity from either shock or starvation. Through trial and error, she learns to feed and care for the leveret with every intention of returning it to the wilderness. Instead, it becomes her constant companion, wandering the fields and woods at night and returning to Dalton’s house by day. Though Dalton feared that the hare would be preyed upon by foxes, stoats, feral cats, raptors, and even people, she never tried to restrict it to the house. Each time the hare leaves, Chloe knows she may never see it again. Yet she also understands that to confine it would be its own kind of death.
Raising Hare chronicles their journey together, while also taking a deep dive into the lives and nature of hares, and the way they have been viewed historically in art, literature, and folklore. We witness first-hand the joy at this extraordinary relationship between human and animal, which serves as a reminder that the best things, and most beautiful experiences, arise when we least expect them.
My Opinion: I’ll admit it: my education is apparently lacking, because I had no idea there was a difference between a rabbit and a hare. Chloe Dalton set me straight on that within the first few pages, and from there, the book kept gently expanding my world in ways I didn’t expect.
This novel is slow, but intentionally so. It carries the same meditative stillness that settled over so many lives during the COVID shutdown. When someone who’s used to constant motion suddenly can’t travel, can’t rush, can’t outrun their own thoughts, what’s left is time. And into that quiet space, a tiny leveret arrives and changes everything.
This memoir isn’t about the grand arc of a life or a catalog of personal struggles. It’s about a moment; one suspended, tender season where a woman learns to move at the pace of a small, wild creature who trusts her without hesitation. It’s part memoir, part natural history, part animal husbandry, and somehow also a gentle reminder of what it feels like to breathe again. The slower rhythm of the writing mirrors the way Chloe herself slows down, shifting from a manic political adviser to someone capable of offering a calm, steady presence to a fragile animal.
Trying to explain this book to someone else is almost impossible. You end up saying, “It’s about a woman and a hare and… their coexistence,” and people stare at you like you’ve lost the plot. But they won’t understand until they read it. Until they feel the quiet trust, the unexpected beauty, the soft exhale that comes at the end.
For me, every bit of it worked. The history, the animal care, the emotional highs and lows all wove together into something quietly profound. It’s a book about noticing the world again, about the kind of connection that only happens when life finally slows enough for you to see it.
And I loved every minute.
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