Hot Chocolate On Thursday, Michiko Aoyama

I used to dislike Thursdays. For me, it’s like the word almost. Almost the weekend. Almost rest. Almost… everything I was waiting for. But maybe it’s a bit unfair to Thursday because, hey, it’s not its fault it sits right after midweek and just before Friday the party day. Also, Hot Chocolate On Thursday showed me that it could also be a “quiet pause” day… like a little transition from the hectic work schedules to the chill weekend mode. Almost as if it’s preparing me mentally and emotionally for the little joys waiting just around the corner.

On cozy fiction

Look, cozy fiction looks too easy to write (from a reader’s POV) but I know it’s actually a challenge to execute (from a writer’s POV). It’s more than just describing a café that smells like hot chocolate, or a kitchen with freshly baked bread and chicken noodle soup, or a yard glowing like autumn sunsets. Cozy fiction is about the people living and moving in those spaces. Its characters should feel warm and smiling and welcoming, like the kind who offer comfort when life gets too rough or overwhelming. All while being raw and relatable with their own flaws and struggles.

We are all connected

And that’s exactly what Michiko Aoyama does. This is the third book I’ve read by her, and I notice she likes writing characters whose lives intertwine without them even realizing it. Because that’s the reality, isn’t it? We’re all connected somehow, either through mutual friends, or shared spaces, or events, or even coffee shops we frequent. And for me, that’s massively comforting. Because even when I’m alone, I know that I’m not completely on my own. There’s always, always the possibility of someone approaching me and saying, “Aren’t you that double tall hot caramel macchiato girl?” or “Weren’t you at that book discussion two weekends ago? I was there too.”

Imperfect characters make the perfect cozy fiction

The characters, like I said aren’t perfect, just like you and me. Take Asami for example. She is often the absent parent because of work, and she starts imagining the worst when her husband suddenly attends an art exhibit. But the truth is, she’s frustrated with herself for not valuing the effort she could make. See, I am also like that, especially at work. I would start thinking that the boss might fire me or the client would finally terminate my contract, but in reality, I just need to make the effort to be consistent. Good thing for Asami though because in the end, it’s her husband who unknowingly uplifts her.

Then there’s Ms. Ena, the kindergarten teacher who almost resigns after being scolded over nail polish. Because how many of us would automatically scroll through LinkedIn jobs when shit happens at work? 🙈 only to realize that if we had done something else instead of sulking in silence, the day could have been salvaged. If only Ms. Ena did exactly that, she could have saved herself from emotional upheaval and things wouldn’t have escalated. And only after talking to the principal that she realized the truth: she can’t leave teaching because it helps her grow and fuels her passion.

Just being in a place you like can sometimes give you strength.

And then there’s Maco, the hot chocolate girl. She pushes a friend with a heart condition to move to a bigger hospital, even though the friend prefers a seaside hospice. Because again, why would you want mediocre care if you want to actually survive your condition, right? But when the young, handsome waiter (well that’s how I imagined him so shut up 😅) at Marble Café casually reminds her, “just being in a place you like can sometimes give you strength,” while cleaning the table where she always sits that she realizes maybe her friend is happier by the sea and she apologizes. Even Principal Yasuko has her perspective shifted: what she considers unreasonable actually makes sense once explained from another point of view.

Reflection, not perfection

These tiny mistakes and misunderstandings and quiet realizations are what make the story cozy and healing. They don’t aim for perfection because the goal is for the readers to reflect. The subtle nudges from others and finding warmth in ordinary moments made the book feel like a warm, welcoming hug that says “you’re home” after one bad decision after another.

Would I recommend it?

Reading it is like sipping hot chocolate on a Thursday afternoon: simple and slow and comforting and unexpectedly soothing.

So the next time you read and the book claims it’s cozy fiction, that book should give you comfort and heal something in you. 🩷