The Gateway Drug: Murata, Cats and Quiet Existential Dread 
Murata’s Convenience Store Woman was my gateway. It’s the story of Keiko, a woman perfectly content stacking onigiri in a Tokyo konbini, until society starts nudging her to “grow up.” It’s deadpan, sharp, and quietly unhinged in that way only Japanese fiction can be. You know the vibe: ordinary people behaving normally while everything - absolutely everything - feels deeply strange. 

And honestly? I blame Chapters Bookstore on Parnell Street. 

Next came The Cat Who Saved Books, a heartwarming fantasy that managed to make me cry about literary gatekeeping (yes, really). Now I’m eyeing our second-hand copy on the shelf, wondering if I need my own copy at home too. 

Enter Korea: Bookshops, Coffee Shops and Feminist Thunderclaps 
Then I tumbled headfirst into Korean fiction. Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 hit me like a train. Cho Nam-joo’s deceptively simple prose builds a portrait of modern womanhood in Korea that’s both chilling and exhilarating. It’s the kind of book you finish and immediately want to press into strangers’ hands. 

To recover, I escaped into Welcome to the Hyunam-dong Bookshop - a gentle, uplifting read about the healing power of books (and, frankly, the healing power of running away from your job to set up a bookshop in a quiet Seoul neighbourhood). 

And now? I’ve just finished The Full Moon Coffee Shop, which is essentially comfort food for the soul: wistful, warm, and magic over flat whites. I devoured it in a single sitting, much like I did with The Second Chance Convenience Store by Kim Ho-Yeon. (What is it about these books that makes you want to curl up with them and emerge only when the last page has been turned?) 

And no - it’s not that I can’t handle dense, complicated Japanese fiction. If you’re wondering where the first editions of Murakami’s 1Q84 (Books 1, 2 & 3) have gone, the answer is… they’re at home with me! I begged David, I paid full price, and he only let me buy them on the condition that I posted them on social media first and left them on the shelves for a week to give our customers a chance. He’s tough but fair like that. 

And Then There’s The Blanket Cats 
Honestly, these are just amazing. Warm and witty stories, yes, but also sarky, sharp, and unsentimental. There’s a mistake people make when they see a cat on a cover - they assume “girly” and “sweet.” But let’s be honest: cats are predators. You don’t own a cat; you serve one. Just ask Bulgakov, who made the devil’s companion in The Master and Margarita a sardonic, pistol-packing feline named Behemoth. Japanese cat books carry that same energy - they’re tender but not twee, full of knowing humour and quiet ferocity. They’re literary cups of tea spiked with vodka. 

Just a Few of What’s On Our Shelves: New, Second-Hand and Slightly Obsessive 
Here’s where it gets dangerous - working at Chapters means I live surrounded by temptation! 

Right now, in our second-hand section, we’ve got: 
1Q84 (Books 1 & 2, hardback) - because someone out there is ready for 900 pages of surrealism, cults and talking cats. 
We’ll Prescribe You a Cat - yes, the title alone should sell you. 
What You Are Looking For Is in the Library - the bookish equivalent of a warm hug. 
Tokyo Ueno Station - gritty, haunting and quietly political. 
Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage - classic Murakami, full of trains, jazz and aching loneliness. 
More Days at the Morisaki Bookshop - because one day at Morisaki isn’t enough. 
Bakemonogatari Volume 1 as well as 02 & 03 - for those who prefer their fiction with a side of supernatural snark. 

And if you’re more of a new book smell purist, our new releases include: 
Hotel Lucky Seven – genre-bending and deliciously odd. 
Three Assassins – noirish, slick, and absolutely addictive. 
One Hundred Flowers – a quiet powerhouse of emotion. 
The Mantis – sharp, stylish and thrilling. 
Before the Coffee Gets Cold & Before Your Memory Fades – perfect if you like your speculative fiction served with nostalgia and cappuccino foam. 
Plus Mina’s Matchbook and The Night of Baba Yaga for the literary magpies among us. 

And of course, lots of Murakami. We’re practically a Murakami habitat. 

The Place Where You’ll Find Your Next Obsession 
Japanese and Korean fiction might be my current obsession, but Chapters is the kind of place that breeds them. You come in for one thing, and suddenly you’re deep in the Manga section, or holding a cookbook about fermented kimchi, or wondering if you’ve finally got the patience for 1Q84. 

So consider this your warning: whether you’re after a pristine new copy, the thrill of second-hand books in Dublin (or online!), or one of our bookstore events in Dublin to spark your next literary craving, our shelves are full of stories waiting to ruin your weekend plans—in the best possible way! 

And maybe there’s a reason why this wave of Japanese and Korean fiction is sweeping through Chapters like a quiet storm. These stories often feel different - formal strangers to our Western reading habits, yet deeply intimate. Structurally, they favour slow pacing, ambiguous endings, and the beauty of everyday moments. Emotionally, they linger in loneliness, longing, and the spaces between what’s said and what isn’t. 

Haruki Murakami biographer Patti Smith once wrote of Colorless Tsukuru Tazaki and His Years of Pilgrimage that Murakami “can herd the troubles of a very large world and still mind a few precious details… he is ever alert to minds and hearts”. That sensitivity to inner landscapes, more than plot, seems to connect with many readers feeling unmoored by our fast, fragmented digital age. 

On the Korean front, fiction like Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982 tackles social pressure, modern gender politics, and systemic inequality head-on - its resonance global, even as its details are deeply rooted in Korean society. Academics have noted how Korean writers are using literature to grapple with rapid modernisation and shifting gender roles - a cultural reckoning that's sparked worldwide interest. 

Maybe it’s this: we crave stories that are slow-burning but profound, culturally specific yet universal, and emotionally clear-eyed rather than melodramatic. Japanese and Korean books meet that need with elegance and subtle defiance. Whether it’s the quiet existential dread of Convenience Store Woman, the feminist thunderclap of Kim Jiyoung, or the sly ferocity of The Blanket Cats, these books feel like medicine for our anxious age. 

So yeah - your next obsession might include flat whites, existential angst, and philosophical cats. But we promise: here, at Chapters, you’ll be in excellent company.