Book Review: The History of Love

By Nicole Krauss

Book review: The History of Love

Hey Besties! We have been crushing these book reviews in 2026. You can tell I'm putting the Q1 momentum to good use... or not, most of these were planned throughout the last days of December, so I could breathe a little in January. Working smart, not hard, you get me?

It's February, and I'd love to be in theme with THE holiday for lovers. Today, we will talk about The History of Love by Nicole Krauss. Do you own any pot plants? I've had many, and the keyword "had" should easily suggest that I have lost some. I love a low-maintenance, self-sufficient plant. Unfortunately, in this novel, Charlotte loves her kids like I love my plants.

Beneath my humour, the novel carries an immense emotional weight. We learn about Leo Gursky, a Polish-Jewish man who fled to the US because of the Holocaust, and found solace in New York City. In his heart, he had always carried his long-lost sweetheart, Alma Mereminski. Well in his old age, he keeps himself busy to remain relevant so he is not forgotten. For example, each evening, he taps on the radiator and waits for a tap in return from his upstairs neighbour, the two old men signalling each other that they are still alive. Or when he attended an art class to pose as a naked model (edgyyy).

Deep down, Leo is lonely; he even carries his burial instructions in his wallet, just in case, because he has no family. Well, not anymore. In his younger days, he lost the love of his life.

On the other hand, in the same city, a young girl, Alma Singer, daughter of the aforementioned Charlotte, enjoys putting her nose in grown people's business as a hobby. She has a little brother, Bird, who she finds odd (aren't all little brothers a little odd?), and her mother, Charlotte, drowns herself in paperwork that she never really attends to. Alma discovers that her mother is working on the translation of a book called The History of Love, from Spanish to English, and is instantly intrigued by the heroine, her namesake.

Perhaps I was too harsh on Charlotte. The reason why she is withdrawn from her children is that she is navigating grief from the loss of her husband. She has a valid reason; I don't have a reason to treat my plants the way I do.

Alma, conscious of how much the translation means to her mother, decided to find the real Alma Mereminski in hopes of making her mother happy again. What follows feels like the result of a domino effect with unexpected timeline intersections.

I would rate this book a 5.5/10 because of the brutal shifts in point of view. Due to some of the name changes, I confused certain characters, but perhaps I was not in the right state of mind to digest the book. I would gladly attempt to read it again. For now, I believe it was all over the place, and I could barely make sense of what was happening (too much at once).

I liked the concept of having a book within a book, and the mirroring of Alma Singer and Alma Mereminski; it reminds me of the picture-in-picture method in cinema. I believe Leo is an intriguing character, and his desire to be remembered is one we all carry deep down. I grew fond of him rather quickly. This book showed that literary works have the power to bridge timelines and immortalise people. Alma Singer felt a sense of identity with Alma Mereminski, and without knowing, the two Almas had more in common than they could ever imagine.

Amidst the book's chaos, I particularly loved the quote "Once upon a time, there was a boy who loved a girl, and her laughter was a question he wanted to spend his whole life answering." With Leo as the boy, the quote suggests that Alma's joy did not just bring him happiness; it was also an object of selfless devotion.

What about you, besties? In what ways does romance play out in your life?

Let me know, I write back ;)