Early autumn in New York City. 1953. Seated on a bench in the little park in back of the Fifth Avenue Public Library, I came to the end of the enthralling book I’d borrowed from the library a few days ago, Written in Darkness by Anne Somerhausen. There I sat, clutching the book, with tears rolling down my cheeks. I didn’t want to move, but seeing that my lunch hour was almost up, I forced myself to get up and return to my secretarial job in the advertising agency. With the book still haunting my thoughts, it was a miracle that I could take down the letter about our Lifebouy account that my boss was dictating.

Written in Darkness is an account, day by day, of life in Brussels during the German occupation. The writer was the mother of my Belgian friend, Jean Somerhausen. I’d met him on my 1949 European tour when he was working as a tourist guide, earning pocket money for the year ahead when he would be at Yale University. At that time, I had no idea I was going to marry him. But in 1955, that’s just what I did.

In 1940, Jean’s father was taken prisoner by the German Army. The German Army had overwhelmed the Belgian troops who were attempting to defend their country. For the five years he was imprisoned, Jean’s mother coped with the problems of survival under the harsh German rule – earning money, scrounging for food, and bringing up their three young boys.

After the war, she was persuaded to write about her experience during the occupation, by an American friend. That is what she did, using her accounts book (the price of every carrot, every sausage was carefully inscribed -- something she did all her life), plus the letters from her husband, plus issues of "Le Soir" (German-controlled during those 5 years), plus her recollections of the BBC broadcasts they were able to listen to, or hear about from friends, plus her memories and the stories she gathered from friends and her family. A professional journalist, my mother-in-law writes clearly and movingly of these years of struggle and hardship. After reading her book, I felt as though I myself was there during those long, grim years.

It is a remarkable story, written by a remarkable woman.