📖 Letters that Stay in the Heart: Tsubaki Stationery Store Ito Ogawa
“There’s no point in regret. Thinking about what could have been done or said differently. It’s better to value what you have than chase what you’ve lost.”
“Rich is the one who is content with what they have. These words remind us to know what belongs to us, and to take joy in it.”
A small outline of the story
This book is warm and gentle, yet full of depth. On the surface, it tells the story of a small stationery shop in Kamakura, but at its core it is about people — how they influence us, change us, and leave traces in our lives.
The main character, Hatoko (Poppo), runs her grandmother’s stationery store. But the most important service she provides is not selling paper or pens — it’s writing letters on behalf of others. Through these letters we meet many different people, with their struggles, joys, and hidden emotions. Each letter becomes a bridge — carrying truths, apologies, or hopes that the characters could not express otherwise.
What the book drew my attention to
Perhaps that is why this story feels so deeply tied to mono no aware — the awareness of life’s fleeting beauty. Every letter is like a moment captured before it disappears.
Moments with family, friends, pets, or even strangers pass quickly, and this novel reminds us to slow down, to notice them, and to take care of those we love — because we never know how much time we have together.
“Rich is the one who is content with what they have. These words remind us to know what belongs to us, and to take joy in it.”
A few personal thoughts
The book is also a treasure for anyone interested in Japanese culture. It introduces the art of writing proper letters — their etiquette, their history — and even offers small glimpses of Kamakura itself. I haven’t been there yet, but after reading this, I know the visit will feel even more special.
One of the most striking passages for me was this:
“To express mourning, a lighter ink than usual is used. It is meant to suggest that it has been diluted with tears that fell onto the inkstone. As I moved the brush across the paper, in my mind’s eye I kept seeing Mrs. Calpis. For a moment I even felt as if her hand had clasped mine and we were writing this letter together.”
Such a delicate, poetic detail — a reminder of how much meaning and symbolism lies within even the smallest gestures in Japanese culture.
I was also moved by the friendship between Hatoko and her cheerful neighbor Barbara. Their relationship is full of laughter and warmth, showing how people who seem so different can become true companions. Reading about them made me smile — because my own best friend is also a cheerful Barbara 💛.
“When it comes to friends, what matters is not the number, but the quality.”
The book also reflects on how we sometimes look for support outside our families, and how chosen families can be just as meaningful:
“Maybe that’s just how it is in this world. If family relationships don’t work out, we look for other people who will support us.”
“Our group, completely different from each other in every way, stood together in front of the station, exchanging New Year’s wishes.”
This part felt especially close to me. I’ve been building a women’s circle — a place where each of us is different, yet together we become something stronger and more beautiful. Just yesterday, at a small barbecue, it felt exactly like this novel: everyone was so different, nobody would have guessed we belonged in the same group, and yet by the end of the evening we laughed until our stomachs hurt and opened up to each other a little more.
Who this book is for
Lovers of Japanese literature and culture.
Readers looking for a calm, reflective story about relationships.
Anyone who enjoys poetic, heartwarming narratives with a deeper message.
In the end
“There’s no point in regret. Thinking about what could have been done or said differently. It’s better to value what you have than chase what you’ve lost.”
A gentle reminder to live here and now, fully appreciating what we already hold in our hands.
