Matcha As A Metaphor For Life: Review of ‘Matcha on Monday’

Michiko Aoyama's Matcha on Monday ((Transworld Publishers) is a gentle, interconnected clutch of stories about ordinary people, some of whose lives briefly cross at a small café in Tokyo. This is the second book in the Marble Café series after Hot Chocolate on Thursday and has been translated into English by E. Madison Shimoda.

Readers learn that the Marble Café is open throughout the week, but on Mondays, it transforms into a matcha café. Over 12 months, a succession of customers arrive with their own problems: a singer dealing with a broken relationship, a young tea wholesaler who finds it difficult to connect with people, a husband trying to make amends with his wife, a designer and a Kamishibai artist struggling with family expectations–even a cat. The stories seem unconnected at first but then overlap in small and often unexpected ways.

Aoyama builds her stories the same way through linked vignettes and ordinary people who come into contact with each other and as a result, see their lives differently. Her strength lies in her ability to find significance in ordinary encounters. A cup of tea, a conversation or a small act of kindness can alter the course of someone's day, even when the person offering it sometimes never knows the effect it has had. The café becomes a place where people pause, reflect and sometimes see their lives differently.

The book has been described as a story of healing and the message it has to offer–as in Aoyama’s other books—is that people are connected in ways they may never recognise and that every small act of kindness travels further than we know. The characters are not extraordinary and their problems are familiar: loneliness, family pressure, disappointment, uncertainty and the search for purpose. This makes the stories easy to relate to. She brings in Kenji Miyazawa who is famous for his belief: that until all people are happy, there is no individual happiness, a philosophy that is part of her narrative and linked to a rare form of Japanese performance, Kamishibai.

Characters and events reappear in different stories, gradually revealing connections that weren’t obvious at the start of the story. Some might say it is like watching a pattern slowly unfold. The book has a gentle rhythm, while the café and its owner, the mysterious Maestro, provide a constant centre–even though its Monday pop ups may prove a little confusing. Ultimately, the story comes full circle from January to December finding closure in a Tokyo tea store.

You might find the simplicity of the narrative a weakness on occasion. Aoyama's characters often arrive with a problem, have a meaningful encounter, and leave with a new understanding. Some of the stories also seem lightly sketched and to readers of Aoyama’s other books, the formula can become predictable even though the lack of unpredictability gives her books their cosiness.

The bitterness and unfamiliar taste of matcha becomes a gentle metaphor for life: not everything is immediately pleasant, but with time and attention it can acquire a different flavour. The rituals surrounding the tea also encourage the characters to slow down in a world that rarely gives them the opportunity to do so.

There is a quiet Japanese sensibility behind the book's belief in small gestures, chance encounters and the value of stopping to notice what is around us. Aoyama does not preach so much as repeat the idea through different lives that one person's small action can travel further than they realise. There are also the details of seasonal celebrations, Japanese food and the traditions related to them. Wagashi confectionery from Kyoto with its different ingredients and its exquisite shaping, peonies and snow rabbits that lend sweetness to the sometimes bitter tea. In  a fast-paced world where youngsters are in search of jobs and success, tradition provides a grounding if it is accepted with foresight.

Ultimately, Matcha on Monday is about the quiet ways in which people affect one another. Like a cup of matcha, it may take a little getting used to, but there is something soothing in its simplicity. For readers looking for a gentle, hopeful book about human connection, it offers a pleasant pause from the white noise of everyday life.

(Anjana Basu is a writer and an advertising consultant based in Kolkata.Her recent works include The House the Press Built and Translating for Rituparno)