This picture was a happy little accident, as the late, great Bob Ross might say. I usually take my pictures while my kids are napping, but I knew I wanted to shoot this cover against the rug that's in my son's room, to keep up with its blue color scheme. So when he got up from his nap, I handed him some toys to entertain himself with, and took a minute to frame the shot up just how I wanted it. Right as I clicked the button to take the picture, he reached his pudgy little boy hand out and tried to grab the book. I was originally going to add this on as a bonus picture, a sort of 'the pitfalls of bookstagramming while parenting'. After some thought, I realized that this was actually the perfect shot for this book. In that hand, there's a love of a parent for a child, a child for a parent, and on the less sentimental note, the love that a one year old has for wanton destruction. That is what this book is about after all: love, in all its forms. ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
It's a novel of several different shifting POVS, across both time and distance. Our anchor story revolves around a 14 year old girl named Alma. While still processing her own grief about her father's passing, Alma finds herself desperately searching for something, anything, to help with her mother's paralyzing depression. The answer, she comes to believe, lies in a book. Her mother get a job assignment to translate a rare book called The History of Love--a book that Alma's father had given her mother years before. Seeing a deeper truth hidden in the pages, Alma attempts to track down the author, in the hopes of saving her mom. From there we get peeks into the book's history, how far it has traveled, and the lives that it has touched.
This book is almost crushingly beautiful. It packs an emotional punch, but never in a way that feels manipulative. Krauss has a gift for capturing the highs and lows of the human condition in a way that feels all too real.