The short review: It's a book about a book and characters whose lives appear to have nothing to do with each other (when we know they really do). 
 i.e., it's everything I need in a story. 
 We have Leo Gursky, an old man who escaped Europe during the holocaust; Alma Singer, whose mother is translating The History of Love into English; and Zvi Litvinoff, author of the original Spanish edition. Or is it the Spanish edition? It's a little weird that there's a character named Alma in a Spanish book, isn't it? 
 There are so many wonderful things in this book that bring it to life. It's not just about History of Love, but about love itself. It's about life and survival. It's about death. 
 Gursky and his friend check up on each other to make sure the other isn't dead. Alma Singer's father has died, and she determined to find someone to make her mother happy again. Alma's brother, Bird, is the most lovable character in the whole tale who thinks he's the Messiah and is building an ark for the great flood. There's too much to cram into one measly review, and you don't understand the depths of it until you're absorbed in this book. 
 To read it is to relive lost love, lost childhood, and overthink your own mortality. 
 I'll leave you with my favorite quote: 
 At the moment the postman rang the bell, Litvinoff's pen had been poised above a blank piece of paper, his eyes watering with revelation, filled with the feeling that he was on the verge of understanding the essence of something. But when the bell rang the thought was lost, and Litvinoff, ordinary again, dragged his feet down the dark hallway and opened the door where the mailman stood in the sunlight.