Once upon a time, there was a house, though it might be more accurate to call it half a palace. It was the residence of Willem Hendrik Jacob, Baron van Westreenen van Tiellandt. An eccentric and loner, he loved dogs more than people, and that is why it surprised many when, upon his death, he bequeathed his massive book collection to the State of the Netherlands. Thus, Huis van het boek became what is now the oldest book museum in the world.

In the garden of the stately building on Prinsessegracht, there is a small mound adorned with roses reminiscent of a Tuscan wedding. On top of it stands Yoeri Meessen, the passionate director of the Huis van het boek, the man charged with keeping the baron’s legacy alive. One way he does that is by getting children excited about books, reading and writing. Today, for the very first time, children from Dr. JA Gerth van Wijkschool in Laak are visiting the museum. Thanks to funds raised by media brand Kingstreet through network dinners, these primary school children with a language deficit are being treated to a morning full of stories and drawing.

“What are your favourite books?” Meessen asks loudly.

“Exciting books,” comes the reply. Another shouts, “Books about ninjas.”

“And what do you like to do most of all?” the director asks. About half the children shout, “Gaming.”

Let’s see if we can change that balance.

"Mona Lisa''

According to Meessen, “suspension of disbelief” is a fundamental concept in literature: people’s willingness to go along with a made-up story. Adults often have to consciously make that effort, he says. But the children in primary school groups 4A, 4B and 6 don’t struggle with this yet. For them, fact and fiction are naturally intertwined – perhaps rightly so.

As the group goes inside, a boy points towards a room where the door is ajar. He shouts, “I’ve found the ‘Mona Lisa’.” He has a keen eye, and there is indeed a replica on the floor.

Ludwig Volbeda shows a drawing of an emperor with pimples: “He discovered you could cure them with pickle spread.”

When the group goes inside, a boy points into a room where the door is ajar. He shouts, “I found the ‘Mona Lisa’.” He has a keen eye; on the floor is indeed a replica.

The Huis van het boek is filled with exceptional works, including a first edition of “Dante’s Inferno”. The collection comprises 90,000 books and 350 manuscripts. The museum focuses on written and printed books in all forms, with the development of the design of both old and modern books as its central theme. The collection consists of richly illuminated medieval manuscripts and so-called incunabula: European documents or books printed with movable type. The term literally means: “from the infancy of the art of printing”.

Mattresses on the street

Willem Maas is the director of Dr. JA Gerth van Wijkschool, a primary school located in the Laak district. He says that children of all nationalities attend his school, including many from Eastern Europe, such as Poland and Ukraine. He explains, “What they have in common is that language is their biggest challenge. It’s not easy when your parents don’t speak Dutch, especially when going back to your home country isn’t always an option. Many parents in Laak do seasonal work, you can see it in the neighbourhoods. Houses are crowded with migrants and when they leave, only their mattresses remain, left on the street in front of the doors.”

Headmaster Willem Maas of the Dr J.A. Gerth van Wijkschool with one of his students.

Today is all about comics and children’s books. Award-winning children’s book illustrator and writer Ludwig Volbeda and children’s book author Lizette de Koning are hosting the morning.

Naked in the wild

An exhibition of Volbeda's work can be found on the first floor, featuring a collection of sketches and sketchbooks. He gained fame as a children’s book illustrator and recently wrote his first novel “Oever”, which was awarded the 2025 Woutertje Pieterse Prize. Volbeda’s work as an illustrator is characterised by a delicate detailed style, every square centimetre is filled with things to see, and his images invite close inspection – they demand your full attention.

Volbeda tells the children how to create a comic book and shares insights into his working process. The children stare open-mouthed at one of his latest works, illustrations for “Tortot, the Cold Fish Who Lost His World and Found His Heart”, a collaboration with the writer Benny Lindelauf. Volbeda shows the children a drawing of an emperor who suffered from pimples. “He discovered that you could cure them with a pickle spread. Look!” Volbeda also tells them about the main character, Tortot, a field cook who travelled with armies and always served the winning side. The illustrator continues with a thought on creative warfare: “Why wouldn’t you be able to wage war with a rubber duck, for example?”

Do the children know what a griffin is? “A fish and a bird,” someone shouts. Volbeda replies, “It’s a cross between an eagle and a lion.” While he talks about his book “De vogels”, about two statues in love who have birds convey their love messages, a boy with glasses is looking the other way, staring in shock at a marble statue. “Wow,” he mumbles. “Wow… that statue is naked.”

One hundred countries

Nervousness starts to build as sketchbooks are handed out. A boy in an orange jumper begins pacing back and forth feverishly. He has slightly bent ears and beautiful black hair. The moment has arrived: the children can start drawing. There are various assignments, including “Draw what you want” or “Make a new book cover for one of the books in the museum”. The boy in the orange jumper doesn’t hesitate for a moment.

He starts drawing countries with his talkative friend in a white jumper who, according to Maas, is destined for politics because he already gives diplomatic answers to everything. “We’re working on a project at school,” says the boy. “We have already drawn 84 countries, and we’re aiming for 100.” Before Volbeda can give any instructions, they have the Benelux on paper and have started on Spain and Gibraltar. When asked what his favourite country is, the boy in the orange jumper replies, “Australia. There’s lots of nature there, even in the cities.” In his opinion, though, there could be fewer kangaroos.

The “suspension of disbelief” Meessen spoke about can also help with your own creativity when making things that don’t yet exist. A girl with bright green eyes places her sketchbook on the display case, next to that of a boy with his hood up, who is not so keen on drawing – he says he needs more practice. That doesn’t bother her. Her tongue sticks out between her teeth as she sketches two floating books, letters fluttering from their pages, and a portrait of herself looking at the rain of letters. And underneath it all: “A walking egg with legs.”

Volbeda says, “I’m amazed. There was a child who noticed objects in the museum that I hadn’t even seen – a bird feather and nutmeg – and made a book cover inspired by them. It was brilliant. I want to convey that even if kids prefer making games or vlogs, sketching out your ideas can really help.”

Dog funeral

One floor up, a teacher stands with “Believe in yourself” immortalised on her arm in blue ink. She’s sweating, feeling the heat. Immediately, children flock to her, eager for help with their sketchbooks – a many-armed, fluttering organism surrounding the teacher, who looks through the open door at Lizette de Koning, at whose feet the children soon take their places.

De Koning (“The King” in English) says it may seem odd that her last name doesn’t match what she does – she’s definitely not a king. Surnames are a legacy of Napoleon, who ended the practice of people being known only by first names like Jan or Hein. “Some people didn’t take that naming moment seriously at all,” she says, “which is why there are still families with names like Poepjes (‘little poop’) or Naaktgeboren (‘born naked’).”

Breathless, the children listen as Lizette de Koning reads out a riddle.

The author wants to show that there are real people behind books, and that a book is not just a lifeless collection of paper. She tells the group that she incorporates elements from her own life in her work, like her dog Kwispel, and that she actually wanted to be a veterinarian, but is hopeless at maths. A girl in a polka-dot dress looks at her in disbelief: a woman who writes books but cannot do maths? She goes on shaking her head for minutes on end – that’s just crazy.

De Koning tells the story of the baron and how he loved dogs more than people. When his dogs died, it was a disaster, and he organised a funeral of majestic proportions. The carriages were polished, and there were gravestones for all his dogs in the garden. “Ohh,” whispers a girl, “so there are no dead people.”

As quit as mice

De Koning starts a part where the children are completely absorbed, no one talks about gaming and no screens are in sight. She describes an animal that is soft and large, perhaps dangerous, and that sometimes sleeps in the winter. “A hedgehog?” someone asks. “Almost,” she answers. Director Willem Maas whispers, “I think I know that animal.”

All the children are as quiet as mice. De Koning poses a new riddle to the group under the watchful eye of the baron, who is captured in a painting, just like his dogs. “It’s a creature that can land on your hand in the summer sun. It is orange, has spots and can fly away just like that.”

A child in a Minnie Mouse shirt with a Gucci on top is thinking deeply. There is a murmur in the group when a boy suddenly stands up, unable to keep his answer to himself, he calls out: “A sea eagle.”

Maas looks around happily and proudly, just like the teachers. At the end of the morning, the children walk past the “Mona Lisa”, heading outside into the garden, where they have something to eat and drink, beneath the big, warm sun. One child looks up, knowing he is flying away, high in the sky – orange feathers, black dots. The sea eagle has seen everything.

www.gerthvanwijkschool.nl

www.huisvanhetboek.nl