Book Review: What You Are Looking for Is in the Library by Michiko Aoyama

I hit a crossroads in my career when I was 24. I sold insurance, a job I once heard described as “a step above a used car salesman.” Rate increases, claims, late payments—I was never anyone’s happy phone call. I ran out of the office at the close of business on the dot and sent mental curses to anyone who dared to stop me. I was deeply unhappy and needed a change.

When you’re depressed about work, your mind turns to wild solutions. The more extreme, the happier you’ll be. I thought I needed to move to a different state. I contemplated breaking up with my then-boyfriend (a decision I made a year later and was entirely unrelated to work). I complained to friends and family constantly. The idea of quitting and getting a new job felt impossible. It was too easy and too frightening at the same time. Besides, what did I actually want to do?

As it turns out, other people—including the fictional kind—have had similar feelings. In her international bestselling novel What You Are Looking for Is in the Library, Michiko Aoyama (translated by Alison Watts) tells the stories of five individuals who feel adrift and disappointed in their careers. Tomoka left her hometown for a junior college in Tokyo only to end up as an unmotivated retail employee. Ryo works in the accounts department of a furniture manufacturer and harbors a secret desire to open an antique store. Hiroya is unemployed but always wanted to be an illustrator. Masao is newly retired and struggles with life after work. Natsumi has the most tragic story of all in my opinion. After returning from maternity leave to the general interest magazine, Mila, Natsumi discovers that her editor-in-chief reassigned her from general interest editor to a position in Information Resources, a move that completely derails her career track. The reason: “It’s too hard to work as an editor with a baby.”

When they’re feeling low and longing for a solution, each person meets Sayuri Komachi, the librarian at the Hatori Community Center. After taking a break from her felting, she asks them, “What are you looking for?” Their answers: instruction manuals for Excel, books about starting a business, manga, a guide for the game “Go”, and children’s books. She gives each person a list with their requests and includes a bonus book and gift that will inspire them to make a change in their lives.

The characters credit the slightly eccentric and mysterious Ms. Komachi for altering their lives with an unexpected book and felt object. However, she replies, “People find meaning in the bonus gift for themselves. It’s the same with books. Readers make their own personal connections to words, irrespective of the writer’s intentions, and each reader gains something unique.”

The same could be said for the readers of Aoyama’s novel. Most readers will identify with at least one of the stories, whether they remember a past version of themselves or consider their present. It’s easy to identify the characters’ problems and come up with a solution; it’s harder to recognize the strength they’ll need to change. The most impressive part of each story is the size of each change—it’s always small. From learning how to cook to reconnecting with a loved one, all the characters need is a shift in perspective or a small step in a new direction.

The real gift Ms. Komachi gives her visitors is that of listening. She listens to their requests and asks relevant follow-up questions that encourage visitors to confess their fears and desires to her. Yes, she gives them a bonus book and gift to inspire them, but it ultimately is up to the recipient to accept and interpret the gift. For some, it may not be the book or the felt but rather the conversation with Ms. Komachi that motivates them to chase their dreams. They just needed to voice their opinions out loud.

For me, I needed to connect with a friend who had an opening at their company. I didn’t have the marketing skills needed at the time, but she was willing to invest in me to bring me up to speed. After a few stressful days of internal debating, I drafted my resignation and burst into tears in my boss’s office. “Why are you crying?” she asked. I didn’t know. Was it relief? Was it fear? Or was it the “oldest daughter syndrome” striking again? It’s hard to disappoint an authority figure, even when you know you’re making the best decision for yourself.

“The most impressive part of each story is the size of each change—it’s always small. From learning how to cook to reconnecting with a loved one, all the characters need is a shift in perspective or a small step in a new direction.”

In Aoyama’s story, the characters seem to have happy endings, which is exactly what a reader needs sometimes. I’ve seen comparisons to The Midnight Library by Matt Haig, but I don’t believe that assessment is accurate. Both books use literature to help their characters find meaning and purpose in their lives. One main difference lies in when the books are distributed. Aoyama’s books appear when someone considers a career change; Haig’s books appear after someone tried to take her own life. As someone who has lost loved ones to suicide, I thought The Midnight Library oversimplified suicide and rooted its story in major FOMO. The character needed to be exposed to all of the other possibilities in life before deciding she was happy with her life. Instead, Aoyama lets her characters find solace in the simple, yet positive moments in life: relationships, pursuing dreams, and defining our own purpose.

Some readers may describe the five stories as formulaic or a little too simple. The writing is straightforward without flowery prose or overly complicated problems. I believe this allows the message to sink in: if we’re unhappy, we just need to be brave and make a small change for a big impact. As Ms. Komachi says, “You may say that it was the book, but it’s how you read a book that is most valuable, rather than any power it might have itself.”