Notes from the Ginza Shihodo Stationery Shop is part of a category of books referred to as Japanese feel-good fiction.  | Photo Credit: Getty Images/iStock

A newly retired man, unsettled by the lack of an occupation and the consequent loss of his self-respect, finds himself growing emotionally distant from his wife, whose own career is on the upswing. The couple’s home is empty apart from themselves because their only daughter has moved to the capital city in pursuit of a career. This young woman has grown so independent that when she decides to marry and move out of the country with her husband to work elsewhere, she does not consult her parents. She merely sends them a message asking them to visit her for a few days to meet her fiancé.

By now somewhat awkward with her, the couple agree to visit their daughter. But they are surprised when they find she has arranged for them to visit a particular stationery shop before they meet her and their son-in-law-to-be. There, the store manager has certain instructions for the couple to follow. By the time the two of them have completed their task, the man’s perspective on his life has done a 180-degree turn.

Titled “Flash Card Deck”, this is the first of the five short stories that make up the collection Notes from the Ginza Shihodo Stationery Shop by the Japanese writer Kenji Ueda. It is also my favourite of the five for a couple of personal reasons. Honestly though, if I were to play favourites, I would not possibly be able to rank them. This is not only because each story is good in its own way but also because this book is different in nature from most other kinds of fiction. Let me explain with one word: it is medicinal.

Yes, I know what I said. Notes from the Ginza Shihodo Stationery Shop is medicinal. If you are in a state of hopelessness even as you spit flames of fury at human depravity, if your heart is filled with the sadness of loss, if your mind is in such turmoil you cannot even identify what made you feel like this, if you cannot remember what emotions like joy, delight, and curiosity feel like, let me prescribe you this book. Provided you truly want relief from what is going on in your head, it could help. I should know. It helped me.

Uedo’s book—the second in a series set in the Shihodo stationery shop—is part of a category of books referred to as Japanese feel-good fiction. For the last decade or more, a number of Japanese writers—and in the past few years, South Korean writers too—have been putting out collections of the gentlest possible short stories. Grounded in the emotions of individual characters—all ordinary people like you and me—they are set against everyday backdrops, such as coffee shops, libraries, bookshops and, in this particular series, a stationery shop. (A couple of South Korean series are even set in a department store and a laundry shop—as mundane as that!)

Unspoken pain

The characters have problems that seem so small that they are hardly worth mentioning to anyone, including to themselves, as in the case of the man in “Flash Card Deck”. But these problems cause them immense, unspoken pain. Then they go to a certain coffee shop or library or what have you, and some unusually sensitive person there—or in some cases, some kind of supernatural agency extant in that place—helps them gain a new perspective on life.

Now, I understand that this sounds like rubbish and suggests books so utterly formulaic that they should be avoided at all costs. That explains why Notes from the Ginza Shihodo Stationery Shop is the first book of this type that I have ever read. And no one was more surprised than I was when, by the end of this short book, I found that a) I actually liked the stories, by which I mean I mentally marked them as “will reread”, and b) my mind genuinely felt calm.

Kenji Ueda, what sorcery is this?

A lot of the magic of the book lies in the ordinariness of the location, the characters, and the problems faced by the characters. In “Flash Card Deck”, a man is unsettled after retirement. In “Scissors”, a schoolgirl too quiet to stand up for herself is partnered with the glamorous school football champion for an afternoon of work experience. In “Business Cards”, a man stays loyal to his company’s chairman, even to the detriment of his own career. In “Coloured Pencils”, a mixed-race man recalls being bullied as a child for his skin colour. In “Bookmark”, a motherless boy must find his way forward.

But the actual wizardry comes from the way the stories are told. The pace is slow. The focus on the storyline is strong. There are no twists in the tales. There are no novelties in the storytelling. Objects and services are treated with care. People are treated with respect. Overall, the stories show us a way of life that is the opposite of the way we live today. It is like floating on a placid pond after a tumble down a mighty waterfall.

Kushalrani Gulab is a Mumbai-based freelance editor.

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