The history of love movie download torrent

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Add content advisory. Did you know Edit. User reviews 10 Review. Top review. She makes Leo promise to write about his love for her. He is trying to contact his estranged author son over his autobiography and desperate to find a book called, "The History of Love". Bruno Leibovitch Elliott Gould is his neighbor friend. Her mother Charlotte Torri Higginson and her late father fell in love with the book.

Her little brother believes himself to be one of the 36 righteous Lamed Vovnik in Judaism and is building an ark. She's in love with Russian boy Misha but she insists on staying friends. Her mother is hired to translate "The History of Love" into english. I know nothing about the book. I'm sure it's a romantic epic. This film is ambitious in its ideas.

This could be a great movie concentrating on Leo. There is this story about Alma Singer which does not measure up to the epic romanticism of Leo's story. Imprints by Simeon Walker. Hushed and quietly beautiful piano compositions from Simeon Walker that are as calming as spring ran. Oldham uncorks a dazzling album of piano compositions, bursting with warm, uplifting melodies.

Iris Arco by Tristan Eckerson. Rippling and disarming piano ballads from this Cincinnati composer that knock you out with their beauty. Light of Shore by Anselm McDonnell. Leo Gursky is an old Jewish immigrant living alone in New York.

He reminisces about his childhood in Poland where he wrote countless stories, and he now has a manuscript in a box in his oven. Her name was Alma. But now, who cares whether he lives or dies? I order in four nights out of seven. All I want is not to die on a day when I went unseen. But still I continued to hope. As soon as the acne cleared my hairline began to recede, as if it wanted to disassociate itself from the embarrassment of my face.

My ears, pleased with the new attention they now enjoyed, seemed to strain farther into the spotlight. My eyelids drooped—some muscle tension had to give to support the struggle of the ears—and my eyebrows took on a life of their own, for a brief period achieving all anyone could have hoped for them, and then surpassing those hopes and approaching Neanderthal. Alma has dreams of making her mother happy again by finding her a new husband. The only difference is that palaeontologists study fossils in order to figure out the origin and evolution of life.

And each of the threads in this book features an Alma. Beautifully done. Shelves: reviewed , , war , favs-recent , historical-fiction , cultural , dark , romance. Great original story. Krauss excels in writing rich believable characters. The soft down of your white hair lightly playing about your scalp like a half-blown dandelion. Many times I have been tempted to blow on your head and make a wish.

Only a last scrap of decorum keeps me from it. His obsession with dying, his pining over lost love. A good day for Leo involves some quality pigeon-watching time interspersed with fantasizing about his upcoming funeral. Make a few friends? I adored him. Point is, it improves on reflection. And while no one who didn't experience it 1st hand could ever begin to comprehend what a Holocaust survivor must feel, I caught a glimmer. Enough to understand - Leo was so wounded that he was incapable of change.

Hope you will read it to. View all 43 comments. Jan 04, Anu rated it it was amazing Recommends it for: everybody. Shelves: drama-drama-drama , strong-female-characters , romance , all-the-feels , favourites , literary-realism , historical , smells-like-teen-spirit , political , men-i-fell-in-love-with.

I dedicate this review to the wonderful woman who graced the pages of Goodreads under the pen name of Fatty Bolger.

It was her evocative and emotional review that drove me to pick up this magnum opus. Quoting from the book, I think it is pertinent for me to say about Krauss, what she says about Isaac Mortiz, "To call him her a Jewish writer or, worse, an experimental writer, is to miss entirely the point of his her humanity, which resisted all categorization. I studied Sociology for three years, and one of the techniques, I remember my professor telling me, to study Sociology is Verstehen.

Google defines it as an "empathic understanding of human behaviour", but somehow, I prefer my professor's definition of it. She called it "putting yourself into the shoes of the person you study.

She said it was important, as a student of sociology to understand that the subject cannot be studied unless you feel for the societal subjects you are studying. I do have a point; I'm getting to it. Krauss is a flawless storyteller, and this is evident especially when she switches between chapters, each chapter written from the perspective of a different person. She perfectly manages to capture the love, the loss, the longing of Leo Gursky, an eighty-year old man, who has been alone, pining for the only woman, the only person whose opinion mattered, for a period of sixty years.

A man waiting for his death, a man who knows that some day, very soon, his heart, his weakest part, will give out. She also seamlessly, in the next chapter, switches her tone to fit the voice of Alma Singer, a rather smart fifteen year old with a slow brother and a depressed mother. Alma Singer, who despite having lost her father hasn't lost her youth, or her drive to live. It's almost as if the division between the two chapters is a mirror; a mirror separating the youthful joy of Alma Singer from the aged indifference of Leo Gursky.

About The History of Love. About her. The only person whose opinion he cared about. When they were ten he asked her to marry him. When they were eleven he kissed her for the first time. When they were fifteen she showed him the scar on her left breast. Their love was a secret they told no one. He promised her he would never love another girl as long as he lived. What if I die? For her sixteenth birthday he gave her an English dictionary and together they learned the words.

And this? What kind of word is that? What about this? When they were seventeen they made love for the first time, on a bed of straw in a shed. After all, it was his love for her that saved him. It is true that the love turned into loss. Because sometimes the things that are hardest to do, are the things that have to be done. Like walking away. But still, the pride that your legacy still lives on, in the guise of what you wanted to be, what you intended to be.

That pride may save you. I interned at The Hindu about two and a half years ago, sometime in Winter Three of my articles got published with the by-line. It wasn't an achievement for me. My mother has framed photos of the article in her Office.

Where she works. Because small as this may have seemed to me, no one was prouder of me than my parents. Isaac Mortiz may have been a best-selling author; no one loved his stories more than his father did. Unknown to his son, unseen to the world, Leo Gursky was a proud father. And when his son dies, unknown to his father, unexpectedly, Leo's world crashes. Because, really, does he have anything else to live for?

The world no longer looked the same. You change and then you change again. You become a dog, a bird, a plant that leans always to the left. When I woke up in the morning it was because he existed, and when I ordered food it was because he existed, and when I wrote my book it was because he existed to read it. In love maybe. Has the dubious distinction of dealing with her depressed, aloof mother, and her rather slow, yet unflinchingly fanatical brother. A brother who jumped off the roof of his school, because he thought he could fly.

A girl, looking to find someone for her mother, so that she could explore the Arctic. A girl who believed that Alma was a real person, indeed. A girl who memorised the Universal Edibility Test.

A girl who fell in love with her best friend, but was too awkward to tell him so. A girl, whose story almost mirrored Leo's in so many ways. She has second chances.

Zvi Litvinoff, who did everything he did for love. A tale of love, loss, and longing. How many times have we heard that before, you say?

Only difference is, The History of Love deals with these in a ponderous, emotionally draining manner, that leaves you longing for more. The subtle elements of humour in it make it the brilliant book it is. View all 34 comments.

Apr 10, Algernon Darth Anyan rated it it was amazing Shelves: Words are the way we fight against entropy, against forgetfullness, the way we demonstrate to the world and to ourselves that we are alive, that we have a past and a future. History is the act of connecting the past with the future, and Nicole Krauss argues that the way we love is a better "For My Grandparents, who taught me the opposite of disappearing and For Jonathan, my life.

History is the act of connecting the past with the future, and Nicole Krauss argues that the way we love is a better measure of our lives than wars or industrial revolutions or politics. Three separate strands are woven together in the novel. At first, they seem unrelated, and much of the plot is driven by the effort of a young girl named Alma Singer to find the connections between her own family history, a book called "The History of Love" written decades ago in Chile by a Polish immigrant, and a mysterious man who pays a lot of money for a translation of that book, now quasy forgotten.

Also forgotten, living alone in an apartment filled with junk, is an 80 year old man named Leopold Gursky, who is afraid nobody will notice or care when he passes away. I could start now to explain and to analyze the structure of the book, or the motivations of the characters, or the style of presentation. But I have a feeling that in doing so, I will do a disservice to the story, because this gem is one of those rare magic moments where you feel that instead of you reading a novel, the book is reading you, and putting down in words what you wished you had been able to do or write about your own life as Alma father's remarks in the dedication he writes on the first page of the book.

This novel might as well be about my own grandparents and father, who died while I was still a young punk, too obsessed with myself to ask for the stories of their youth, for their histories of love. Every year, the memories I have of my father become more faint, unclear and distant. Once they were vivid and true, then they became like photographs, and now they are like photographs of photographs. I admire Alma Singer for her efforts to keep the memory of her father alive, re-reading his books on survival in the wilderness and on edible plants, inventing stories about him to tell to her small brother, pestering her grieving mother to rebuilt her life.

Alma is also a teenager, so she has to cope with her own emerging feelings of love. Did I tell she also worships Antoine de Saint-Exupery? That's just one more reason to like her chapters, and the lively entries she makes in her personal diary. Yet the character I identified with most is the old Leo Gursky, the invisible man, who feels the need to drop things in the supermarker or quarell with the chashiers, even goes to pose nude for a class of art students, just to feel that somebody is noticing him, that somebody might remember him.

Crossing the street, I was hit head-on by a brutal loneliness. If you don't know what Leo is talking about, I envy you, but there is more to him than meets the eye. Behind the decrepit facade and the cranky behaviour beats a heart still believing that life is "a thing of beauty and a joy for ever". In the silence of his room, he still puts words on paper, pouring out his passion and his pain, even if nobody seems interested in reading his novel.

You see, he was not always 80 years old, and he can still remember the best years of his life: Once upon a time there was a boy. He lived in a village that no longer exists, in a house that no longer exists, on the edge of a field that no longer exists, where everything was discovered and everything was possible.

A stick could be a sword. A pebble could be a diamond. A tree a castle. Once upon a time there was a boy who lived in a house across a field from a girl who no longer exists. They made up a thousand games. She was Queen and he was King. In the autumn light, her hair shone like a crown. They collected the world in small handfuls.

When the sky grew dark they parted with leaves in their hair. 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. I feel like there's nothing more to add after the last passage, without spoiling the magic. Yet, I must comment on the people disappearing from Leo and from the other people's life, because the reason the village, the houses and the fields are gone, the reason Leo and Zvi and many others are living in exile has to do with the crimes of the Nazis in the second world war.

The plea against disappearance in the dedication is now extended to all the victims of the Holocaust, whose shadow is still looming over the younger generations. Nicole Krauss does a much more creditable effort in dealing with this highly charged event that the dissapointingly cute "Book Thief". She keeps the dignity of her people with understated intensity, and matter of fact enumeration of the many holes left in the personal and cultural space by the departed.

A Book Within a Book Who really wrote the book of love? Leo or Zvi or even Alma in her vivid imagination? Better yet, was it started centuries or millenia ago, and passed on from generation to generation until it landed in my hands? Is the novel published in Valparaiso still lingering on some dusty shelves in a dark second-hand bookshop that hardly anyone visits today, in the age of electronic purchases?

Is there a copy of it to be found in the secret Cemetery of Forgotten Books in Barcelona? Speaking of ages, we only get to read fragments of this fabled history, more like short essays on the ways love as the highest art of communication between people, the way we are recognized and remembered. I have tried to bookmark some of these favorite passages regarding The Age of Glass, The Age of Silence, The Birth of Feeling, but I realized I should really quote whole pages, take them out of context, and that they are better left alone, to be enjoyed the way the author meant them to be, slipped between the memories of Leo and Alma.

Even so, here's a sample of what I'm talking about: The first language humans had was gestures. There was nothing primitive about this language that flowed from people's hands, nothing we say now that could not be said in the endless array of movements possible with the fine bones of the fingers and wrists.

Clapping, pointing, giving the thumbs-up: all artifacts of ancient gestures. Holding hands for example, is a way to remember how it feels to say nothing together. And at night, when it's to dark to see, we find it necessary to gesture on each other's bodies to make ourselves understood.

To close my review of a novel I plan to give as a gift to my friends, one that I look forward with great pleasure as a re-read at some point in the future, I have chosen the words of one of the fictional historians. Did the book change my own life, as Zvi hoped for?

Only time will tell. Staring out the window, Litvinoff imagined the two thousand copies of The History of Love as a flock of two thousand homing pigeons that could flap their wings and return to him to report on how many tears shed, how many laughs, how many passages read aloud, how many cruel closings of the cover after reading barely a page, how many never opened at all.

He couldn't have known it, but [ View all 33 comments. Feb 03, Cecily rated it it was amazing Shelves: usa-and-canada , lit-crit-and-about-lit. My review of this wonderful book is HERE. What follows below is not a review. This page is a collection of lists about the story, characters, and themes, showing the many and complex connections between them, but without any emotional response or analysis.

It is almost entirely made up of spoilers, so don't read it if you have not read the book - and maybe not even then. Please think before you click. The Last Words on Earth - Leo p A Joy Forever - Leo p Until the Writing Hand Hurts - Leo p Die Laughing - Leo p If Not, Not - Alma S p One Nice Thing - Bird p Would a Lamed Vovnik Do This?

The Death of Leopold Gursky, p The Remedy — award-winning best seller 2. Glass Houses — short stories 3. Sing 4. Eventually, a nickname stuck instead.

Bird prepares for one. On his way to the class, Leo passes a girl in a large sweater, with holes in it. But he carves his initials on locks. Others lock out people and experiences. Alma S makes a list of thirteen memories passed down to her by her mother.

He gives the manuscript to Zvi for safekeeping. Zvi hides the original buried, then locked away. David Singer buys a second-hand copy and gives — and inscribes — it to his wife. They name their daughter Alma. Leo had thought the only copy had been lost in a flood, as Rosa had told him in a letter. View all 38 comments. Shelves: borrowed-from-library , favorites , world-war Life is unfair, life is cruel, that should be the lesson taken away by Leo Gursky, a Polish Holocaust survivor, but the lesson he seems to have taken instead is that once there was love and that is sometimes enough.

His love centers around the girl he loved in Poland, Alma Mereminski, the woman for whom he wrote a book, The History of Love. This book influences a number of lives, including that of a young girl who is also named Alma because her father found the book in a store in Buenos Aires and Life is unfair, life is cruel, that should be the lesson taken away by Leo Gursky, a Polish Holocaust survivor, but the lesson he seems to have taken instead is that once there was love and that is sometimes enough.

This book influences a number of lives, including that of a young girl who is also named Alma because her father found the book in a store in Buenos Aires and it changed his life. Our Alma struggles with her own questions about life, the loss of her father, the continued depression of her mother, the coping mechanisms of her strange little brother, Bird.

In mysterious and compelling ways, a group of lives become entangled in this love story and we readers are left to sort out the truth from the fiction and sort the pieces into a puzzle that makes sense. I will admit to feeling lost a couple of times, wondering if I had missed something, but like a good mystery, this story unravels in stages and all comes together by the end.

It is masterfully woven, deeply personal, highly emotional. Krauss imagines real people, gives them breath and feeling. I cannot imagine anyone reading this novel with indifference. In addition to a superb story, Krauss has a lot to say about subjects that have meaning for all of us. Life, death, love, connection, separation, loss, depression. She is a student of the human heart.

Litvinoff preferred to be alone. And she has the power to produce an image that is palpable: The War ended. Bit by bit, Litvinoff learned what had happened to his sister Miriam, and to his parents, and to four of his other siblings what had become of his oldest brother, Andre, he could only piece together from probabilities.

He learned to live with the truth. It was like living with an elephant. His room was tiny, and every morning he had to squeeze around the truth just to get to the bathroom.

She does not describe the horror of the camps, we get no stories of the atrocities, there is no dwelling on the death or destruction; and yet we feel the horror of it, the irreversibility, the calamity of lives lost and the loneliness and desperation of the life that remains. I lost Fritzy. I lost Sari and Hanna to the dogs. I lost Herschel to the rain. I lost Josef to a crack in time. I lost the sound of laughter.