Before the Coffee Gets Cold – A Book Review and Some Reflections

Grass Padrique | The Fabulous Scientist

Spoiler Alert: This review contains key plot points from Before the Coffee Gets Cold. If you prefer to experience the story’s surprises and tender moments on your own, you may want to pause here and come back after reading the book.

Reading Before the Coffee Gets Cold evoked the experience of being ensconced in a café while a torrential downpour rages outside, accompanied by the unsettling sounds of thunder and lightning—a juxtaposition that is both comforting and hauntingly familiar. Despite the extensive list of time-travel regulations presented within the narrative, which at times felt excessive, I found that the story’s reflections on life resonate profoundly. Much like the characters in the book, we navigate our existence within a framework of rules—some explicitly stated, many implicit—and while these constraints may initially appear burdensome, they often provide a pathway to understanding, purpose, and acceptance.

What resonated with me profoundly was how the novel subtly underscores the reality that we seldom understand the burdens others carry. We tend to pride ourselves on our intuition (a notion often embraced by women), yet the narrative masterfully illustrates that another individual’s heart may harbor untold stories. It compelled me to reflect on the numerous occasions I have misinterpreted someone solely due to my inability to perceive the complete context. Following my engagement with the text, I felt compelled to reconnect with individuals I hadn’t spoken to in a while, simply to inquire about their well-being.

The characters are crafted with a remarkable depth and realism that lingered in my thoughts long after I finished reading the book.

• Fumiko, poised and sharp on the outside, but quietly longing for reassurance.
• Goro, whose practicality hides his own uncertainty.
• Kei, calm and gentle, like a warm light in the café, even as she faces the heaviest truth of all.
• Nagare, the quiet guardian of the café’s secrets.
• Kazu, the stoic but secretly affectionate barista who delivers magical coffee with a dry sense of humor.
• And the woman in the white dress, mysterious and slightly eerie, appearing like a reminder that unresolved emotions can anchor us in place.

Their narratives intertwined in a manner that was profoundly human, evoking a sense of authenticity as I observed individuals gradually disclosing intimate facets of their lives amidst measured sips of coffee.

There is a moment in the book that truly made me sad—someone dies—and it hit me unexpectedly hard. But instead of leaving a heavy feeling, it reminded me how fleeting and precious life is. Time moves forward whether we’re ready or not, so it’s our job to treasure the mornings we wake up to, the laughter we share, and the people who feel like home.

This notion particularly resonates with me as an individual who integrates art and science in my daily pursuits. The novel evoked the essence of a watercolor painting—soft, layered, and emotional—yet accompanied by principles that are seemingly scientific. It called to mind my own experiences with homeschooling my sons, where we fostered creativity within a framework sufficient to render the results significant. Life, akin to art and science, possesses its own beauty precisely due to the limitations it entails.

More importantly, reading the book had nudged me to slow down a little. To enjoy the present cup of coffee before it gets cold. To message someone I’ve been meaning to talk to. To hug my boys a little longer. To notice the tiny joys that often slip by unnoticed.

Overall, Before the Coffee Gets Cold left me smiling—filled with a joyful tear or two, and above all, brimming with gratitude. It’s a heartwarming tale that gently reminds us:
Even amidst all the rules we navigate, there is an abundance of love and magic waiting to be discovered in the simplest of moments.