Why the Morisaki Bookshop Novels Were Exactly What I Needed (and Maybe What You Need Too)

I didn’t pick up Days at the Morisaki Bookshop expecting anything special.

Honestly, I just wanted something quiet. My mind felt overstimulated, my heart a little worn down. I wasn’t in the mood for a twisty plot or anything that tried too hard. I wanted a story that let me breathe.

What I found was more than that.

Satoshi Yagisawa’s two novels — Days at the Morisaki Bookshop and its sequel, More Days at the Morisaki Bookshop are now books I find myself quietly recommending to people when they’re going through something. A breakup. Burnout. A big, life-shaped question mark.

They’re not loud books. They don’t promise transformation. But they offer something just as valuable: peace. Space. Permission.

Here’s why I think you should read them too.

1. These books reminded me it’s okay not to be okay

The first book opens with Takako at rock bottom. Her boyfriend dumped her, she quit her job, and she’s basically sleepwalking through life. She ends up living above her uncle’s old secondhand bookstore in Tokyo’s Jimbocho neighborhood, and at first, she just… exists.

I felt that. Not in a dramatic way just in the quiet, familiar ache of feeling unmoored. I’ve had those days where getting out of bed felt like an accomplishment. When small things felt too big. This book didn’t try to solve that feeling it just sat with it.

“I had no plan. No energy. No idea what was next. But the shutters opened every morning, and that was something.”

— Days at the Morisaki Bookshop

Sometimes that’s enough.

2. It made me fall in love with slowness

We’re constantly told to “move on,” “get over it,” “bounce back.” But this book doesn’t rush. Instead, Takako heals slowly through mornings in the shop, conversations over tea, and rediscovering a love for books she thought she’d lost.

I read it during a time when I was trying too hard to be okay. And this story gave me permission to slow down. To let the days be quiet. To find meaning in something as simple as a favorite sentence or a warm lunch.

“Books don’t demand anything. They just wait.”

— Days at the Morisaki Bookshop

3. The sequel goes even deeper — without ever feeling heavy

More Days at the Morisaki Bookshop takes place after Takako has begun to rebuild. But life, of course, doesn’t stop being life. There’s grief, and change, and the kind of aching that sneaks in when you’re not paying attention.

But the magic of this book is that it doesn’t treat those things like problems to be fixed. They’re just… part of it. Part of growing. Part of staying.

And somehow, it’s comforting.

“The ache never quite leaves. But it softens. It makes room.”

— More Days at the Morisaki Bookshop

4. The bookshop itself feels like home

I’ve never been to Jimbocho, but the way Yagisawa writes it, I swear I’ve walked those streets. I’ve stood between shelves of yellowing paperbacks. I’ve found myself in the quiet presence of a book I didn’t know I needed.

There’s a warmth to the Morisaki Bookshop that feels real. It reminded me of the small, cozy places real or metaphorical that have held me when I didn’t have words for what I was feeling.

If you’ve ever felt comforted by a bookstore, or even just a moment of stillness, you’ll understand.

5. These books didn’t change my life. But they changed my day.

And sometimes, that’s exactly what you need.

They helped me remember that healing doesn’t always look like doing. That sometimes, you don’t need a plan you just need a pause. A quiet space. A good book. A secondhand store. A character who’s just trying to breathe, same as you.

“Sometimes starting over doesn’t look like a leap. It looks like staying put and letting life come back in.”

— More Days at the Morisaki Bookshop

Reading these books was like spending a long afternoon in a cozy shop where the windows rattle softly with wind.

If you’re overwhelmed, if your heart feels heavy, or even if you just want to feel something real and gentle read these books. Let them sit with you. Let them keep you company.

And if you’re anything like me, you’ll find yourself a little lighter by the last page.