I don’t care for math or the history of most mathematicians. When I started this book for the first time, I expected a dry history of a man I didn’t necessarily care for who liked something I didn’t. I was wrong. Before I even finished the first chapter, I was captivated.

Seymour’s writing is elegant and lovely for read-aloud (if you can choke it out while crying, that is . . . *wink*). The story follows the van Rossem family throughout the devastation, and then through the restoration of their village. We marvel at how they remove the mud and grime from the interior of their home. We laugh when their missing teakettle is found in a tree. We wonder how they will recover their farmland which is covered in a salt cake from the sea. And we mourn their losses while we rejoice with them in their victories. This story reads like a classic such as Little House on the Prairie. But, it is also quintessentially Dutch. Seymour writes with pride and hope, and gives us a beautiful ending. I do not know why this book is not more commonly known. It should be required reading everywhere.