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A review by orionmerlin
Before the Coffee Gets Cold by Toshikazu Kawaguchi
emotional
hopeful
reflective
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.75
Characters: 8/10
I’ll admit it—I was fully prepared to roll my eyes at the whole “time-travel café” premise. But damned if I didn’t end up caring about these quirky basement café dwellers. Fumiko, the intelligent-yet-emotionally-stunted career woman? Chef’s kiss. Hirai, the human embodiment of a leopard-print emotional brick wall? Loved her. Fusagi and Kohtake gave me feelings I didn’t ask for, and even Kazu—deadpan, emotionally evasive Kazu—snuck up on me. Every character has an arc, and you feel the growth, even if you wish they'd just talk like normal people and not in philosophical fortune cookie riddles. Bonus points for making me cry over a guy who forgets his wife’s name.
I’ll admit it—I was fully prepared to roll my eyes at the whole “time-travel café” premise. But damned if I didn’t end up caring about these quirky basement café dwellers. Fumiko, the intelligent-yet-emotionally-stunted career woman? Chef’s kiss. Hirai, the human embodiment of a leopard-print emotional brick wall? Loved her. Fusagi and Kohtake gave me feelings I didn’t ask for, and even Kazu—deadpan, emotionally evasive Kazu—snuck up on me. Every character has an arc, and you feel the growth, even if you wish they'd just talk like normal people and not in philosophical fortune cookie riddles. Bonus points for making me cry over a guy who forgets his wife’s name.
Atmosphere / Setting: 9/10
If you’ve ever wondered what it feels like to be gently suffocated by nostalgia, you’ll find it here. The café is a sepia-toned time loop, a literal emotional pressure cooker with no windows, faulty clocks, and a ghost who will curse the hell out of you if you try to steal her seat. (Relatable.) The mood sways with the story like the steam rising from one of Kazu’s coffee cups. I practically smelled the bitter mocha and existential dread.
If you’ve ever wondered what it feels like to be gently suffocated by nostalgia, you’ll find it here. The café is a sepia-toned time loop, a literal emotional pressure cooker with no windows, faulty clocks, and a ghost who will curse the hell out of you if you try to steal her seat. (Relatable.) The mood sways with the story like the steam rising from one of Kazu’s coffee cups. I practically smelled the bitter mocha and existential dread.
Writing Style: 7/10
The prose is simple, borderline sterile in places, and yet somehow still emotionally devastating. Like, how dare a sentence written at the reading level of a school report gut-punch me like that? The translation sometimes felt clunky—too many “she said softly” and “he muttered quietly”—but I was too busy crying into my lukewarm coffee to mind. Kawaguchi doesn’t waste words, and that minimalist vibe suits the story. It’s basically the literary version of a tight-lipped old man who randomly tells you he’s proud of you and changes your life.
The prose is simple, borderline sterile in places, and yet somehow still emotionally devastating. Like, how dare a sentence written at the reading level of a school report gut-punch me like that? The translation sometimes felt clunky—too many “she said softly” and “he muttered quietly”—but I was too busy crying into my lukewarm coffee to mind. Kawaguchi doesn’t waste words, and that minimalist vibe suits the story. It’s basically the literary version of a tight-lipped old man who randomly tells you he’s proud of you and changes your life.
Plot: 7/10
It’s a four-act structure (The Lovers, Husband and Wife, The Sisters, and Mother and Child) and they all follow the same basic “cry now, time travel later” formula. There’s no real twist—except, surprise! You can’t change the present!—and yet it works. The emotional stakes hit hard, and the repetitiveness actually adds to the quiet tragedy of it all. My only complaint is that the plot is as predictable as the ghost woman not moving her ass from that chair. But hey, sometimes you want the emotional gut punch you see coming.
It’s a four-act structure (The Lovers, Husband and Wife, The Sisters, and Mother and Child) and they all follow the same basic “cry now, time travel later” formula. There’s no real twist—except, surprise! You can’t change the present!—and yet it works. The emotional stakes hit hard, and the repetitiveness actually adds to the quiet tragedy of it all. My only complaint is that the plot is as predictable as the ghost woman not moving her ass from that chair. But hey, sometimes you want the emotional gut punch you see coming.
Intrigue: 8/10
Look, I didn’t expect to be glued to a book about a café where you can’t even change the future. But this was gripping in the way only deeply human regrets can be. Will she say the thing? Will he understand her before she vanishes into steam? Will that cursed ghost ever leave the seat without someone bribing her with a refill? Every story made me want to see it through, even if I already knew the outcome. The suspense didn’t come from what would happen, but how they’d break my heart.
Look, I didn’t expect to be glued to a book about a café where you can’t even change the future. But this was gripping in the way only deeply human regrets can be. Will she say the thing? Will he understand her before she vanishes into steam? Will that cursed ghost ever leave the seat without someone bribing her with a refill? Every story made me want to see it through, even if I already knew the outcome. The suspense didn’t come from what would happen, but how they’d break my heart.
Logic / Relationships: 6/10
Do the time-travel rules make sense? Absolutely not. Do I care? Also no. The logic is like a Rube Goldberg machine powered by emotion and coffee steam. There are more rules for time travel than there are ingredients in a Starbucks frappuccino, but once you accept the magical realism of it all, it’s fine. Relationships, though? They’re messy and real—often frustratingly so. If I had a yen for every character who refused to speak plainly about their feelings, I could open my own cursed café.
Do the time-travel rules make sense? Absolutely not. Do I care? Also no. The logic is like a Rube Goldberg machine powered by emotion and coffee steam. There are more rules for time travel than there are ingredients in a Starbucks frappuccino, but once you accept the magical realism of it all, it’s fine. Relationships, though? They’re messy and real—often frustratingly so. If I had a yen for every character who refused to speak plainly about their feelings, I could open my own cursed café.
Enjoyment: 9/10
I loved it. I didn’t expect to. I wanted to be a smug cynic sipping espresso and mocking it for being sentimental schlock. Instead, I was clutching the book like an emotional support latte and ugly crying in public. This was melancholic comfort food with just the right amount of magical realism to keep it from being too twee. I won’t reread it right away, but I’ll think about that husband and wife chapter until I’m old, forgetful, and crying into a coffee cup of my own.
I loved it. I didn’t expect to. I wanted to be a smug cynic sipping espresso and mocking it for being sentimental schlock. Instead, I was clutching the book like an emotional support latte and ugly crying in public. This was melancholic comfort food with just the right amount of magical realism to keep it from being too twee. I won’t reread it right away, but I’ll think about that husband and wife chapter until I’m old, forgetful, and crying into a coffee cup of my own.
Content Warnings
Moderate: Death, Emotional abuse, Suicidal thoughts, Dementia, Grief, Car accident
Minor: Chronic illness, Mental illness, Misogyny, Sexism, Terminal illness, Pregnancy, Alcohol
While the themes are handled with sensitivity and a gentle touch, the book centers on emotional pain—unspoken regrets, lost chances, and navigating illness or death of loved ones. Dementia and terminal illness are discussed in an emotionally raw but not medically graphic way. There are also instances of emotional neglect and subtle sexism that reflect strained relationships. The car accident that results in death is not described in detail but is pivotal to one storyline.
This book leans heavily into sadness and bittersweet emotional catharsis rather than graphic trauma. It’s a soft punch to the feelings, not a gut-wrenching horror show.