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Praise

Praise for Before the Coffee Gets Cold

“Heartwarming, quirky, and wistful.”

—Huffpost

“The narrative is deeply moving.”

—Chicago Review of Books

“The story is gold. Before the Coffee Gets Cold is perfect for anyone who wants to feel connected right now.”

—Bookreporter

“Kawaguchi...has a surprising, unerring ability to find lasting emotional resonance. Interwoven into what initially feels like a whimsical escape are existential conundrums of love and loss, family and freedom, life and death.”

—Christian Science Monitor

“This charmingly magical novel is about discovering happiness despite the pasts that we desperately want to revisit.”

—The Harvard Crimson

“Kawaguchi’s tender look at the beauty of passing things...makes for an affecting, deeply immersive journey into the desire to hold onto the past.”

—Publishers Weekly

About the Author

Toshikazu Kawaguchi was born in Osaka, Japan, in 1971. He has produced, directed and written for the theatrical group Sonic Snail. His works as a playwright include COUPLE, Sunset Song and family time. His play Before the Coffee Gets Cold won the grand prize at the Suginami Drama Festival. Before the Coffee Gets Cold has become an international bestseller and has been adapted for the screen in Japan.

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Best Friends

Gohtaro Chiba had been lying to his daughter for twenty-two years.

The novelist Fyodor Dostoevsky once wrote, “The most difficult thing in life is to live and not lie.”

People lie for different reasons. Some lies are told in order to present yourself in a more interesting or more favorable light; others are told to deceive people. Lies can hurt, but they can also save your skin. Regardless of why they are told, however, lies most often lead to regret.

Gohtaro’s predicament was of that kind. The lie he had told plagued him. Muttering things to himself, such as “I never wanted to lie about it,” he was walking back and forth outside the café that offered its customers the chance to travel back in time.

The café was a few minutes’ walk from Jimbocho Station in central Tokyo. Located on a narrow back street in an area of mostly office buildings, it displayed a small sign bearing its name, “Funiculi Funicula.” The café was at basement level, so without this sign, people would walk by without noticing it. Descending the stairs, Gohtaro arrived at a door decorated with engravings. Still muttering to himself, he shook his head, swung round and began walking back up the stairs. But then he suddenly stopped with a thoughtful expression on his face. He went back and forth for a while, climbing the stairs and descending them.

“Why not stew over it after you come in?” said a voice abruptly.

Turning around, startled, Gohtaro saw a petite woman standing there. Over her white shirt she was wearing a black waistcoat and a sommelier’s apron. He could tell instantly she was the café’s waitress.

“Ah yes, well...”