While The Japanese Lover tells what should be fascinating stories of suffering and survival, the key problem I had with it was the telling. As in, show -- don't tell. Somehow, most of the narrative of this novel felt like a third party summarizing events, rather than allowing me to witness events for myself. There are a lot of shared stories and memories, but they mostly lack immediacy or a sense of real texture. 
 Additionally, the overall storyline felt a bit kitchen-sinky to me. (view spoiler)[Alma is sent off to American by her parents who stay behind in Poland and perish in the Holocaust. Irina's mother was a victim of sex trafficking and ultimately causes horrible abuse to Irina herself. Ichimei and his family are forced into an internment camp during World War II. Alma's husband leads a closeted life and dies of AIDS. (hide spoiler)] Horrible things happen, but somehow I barely felt any of them. 
 The Japanese Lover is a fast read, and parts were quite interesting, but I simply couldn't engage emotionally with much of it due to the style of the storytelling. This was actually pretty surprising to me, as I've read and loved many books by this author in the past. The individual stories all should have been compelling, but the mashing up of them all into one novel just doesn't work. Add to this the fact that Alma and Ichimei's love story felt flat and unexciting, and I have to say that The Japanese Lover just isn't the best example of an Isabel Allende novel.