Divine Language

Alec Wilkinson has contributed to The New Yorker for more than forty years, but as a boy he struggled to make sense of mathematics. In middle age he decides to try again and teach himself the subject. The effort proves harder than he expected, and the questions he runs into reach well past arithmetic.

The book traces his path through the strange and beautiful terrain of mathematics, from ancient thinkers to modern researchers. He explores number theory, the puzzle of where numbers come from, and the old dispute over whether mathematics is a human invention or something that exists independently of us. He also considers equations and problems that have resisted solution for centuries, along with the stubborn mystery of prime numbers.

Part memoir, part metaphysical travelogue, and part account of self-improvement, the book follows the daily setbacks and small triumphs of working through problems by hand. Wilkinson's tone is wry and attentive throughout, and his self-deprecating honesty about his own limitations gives the narrative its momentum.

At its heart, this is one man's renewed attempt to understand the numbers around him and the larger world they seem to point toward.