How to Hold Someone in your Heart

The Lost Souls Series #2

by Mizuki Tsujimura, Yuki Tejima (Translator)

PICK UP YOUR NEXT READ FOR FANS OF LONELY CASTLE IN THE MIRROR and BEFORE THE COFFEE GETS COLD - the story of a young man with special powers to connect the living with the afterlife.

Ayumi is searching for the best way to balance the responsibility of his special powers for connecting the living and the afterlife with his own desires as a young man in the real world. According to strict rules, meetings must take place under a full moon:

- A young film star finds resolution with the father who abandoned him, but not as he expected;
- An amateur historian fan is obsessed to meet a minor warlord of the sixteenth century;
- Ayumi manages two meetings on the same evening, both have lost their daughters;
- A former cook, whose request to visit an upper-class young woman in the afterlife has been repeatedly rejected, is finally granted his wish, and to share a life-changing view of cherry blossom.

Find out how Ayumi and his clients learn to lose their regrets, open up to the unexpected, and cherish what they already have.

Genres: Fiction, Fantasy, Japanese Literature, Magical Realism, Japan, Asian Literature, Adult

234 pages, Kindle Edition

First published October 18, 2019

About the author

Associated Names:
* Mizuki Tsujimura
* 辻村深月 (Japanese)

Tsujimura is an award-winning novelist, she is best known for her mystery and children novels. She studied at Chiba University and won the Naoki Prize in 2012 for Kagi no nai Yume wo Miru (I Saw a Dream Without a Key), and in 2018 she won the Japan Booksellers' Award for her novel Kagami no Kojo (Lonely Castle in the Mirror).

Japanese name 辻村 深月

Reviews

[Queralt✨ · Rating 5 out of 5]

"It's a gift to be able to live in the world at the same time as the person you have in your heart."

I loved Lost Souls Meet Under a Full Moon, and I thought this was a great continuation of the series. While the first book kept the go-between wrapped in mystery until the last chapter, in this book, we mostly follow Ayumi with his clients. I cried during three of the stories, and two of them (the historian, and his own pondering about whether it’s fair game to offer his services unrequested) were interesting and answered a few questions I had while reading the first book, but they weren't as emotional as the rest of the stories in the series.

The other three stories: a guy getting to share a beer with his deadbeat dad who left when he was two; two mothers meeting the daughters they lost too soon on the same night; and an old man trying to meet his childhood crush, were devastatingly beautiful. The moms made me cry so hard. I don’t think the little girl really understood what had happened to her; that chapter was so emotional.

I don’t know if there are more books in the series. I hope so! I need Mizuki Tsujimura to continue mistaking my heart for a football, I swear. Every time I pick up one of the books about the go-between I just wish it was a thing, I fantasize about meeting my grandma again so many times this story feels personal.I also want to add that Yuki Tejima’s translation is great. The writing is simple but so nice, and it flows so naturally.

Other stuff I highlighted:

"Not a day has passed in our lives that your father, mother, friends and teachers did not think about you. Your parents were devastated that they had to let you go alone, and they were with you in spirit. None of us forgot about you. You were never alone. (...) We all wished you were still with us."

---

"If I had the choice now, even if it meant not having my restaurant or my family, I would choose to live in a world that had you in it. I'm sure everybody else feels the same way. You have and will continue to live in our hearts. That is what I have come here to say."

*ARC received for free, this hasn't impacted my review or rating.

[Mizuki · Rating 3 out of 5]

Premise: Meet the Go-Betweens, massagers with mysterious power who can arrange you to meet with a dead person (if the dead in question is willing to meet you).

(1) Personally I think the title 'Go-Between' is lame.

(2.1) this time it's not the book it's me, I just found most of the characters boring, especially the main character Ayumi. The supporting characters are mostly okay though.

(2.2) a lot of things can be written with the topic of meeting a dead loved one, but aside from the first few stories, I don't think the topic of regret and recovery and death have been touched upon deeply enough. Okay it's just my opinion...

(3) but a few of the stories have some really nice little plot twists here and there.

(4) but I admit I skimmed and skipped a lot after page 56.

(5) Although the stories are not my cup of tea, still they remind me of a song by Inoran, Won't Leave My Mind.

(6) it's good for a light reading, though.

[Frida · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.75 ⭐️

[Tim · Rating 4 out of 5]

More coherent than the first one, with a more central ‘main’ character. Still not as good as Lonely Castle in the Mirror. Good comfort read.

[Bibliothecat · Rating 4 out of 5]

Thank you Random House UK for providing me with the eARC via NetGalley in exchange for an honest review.

How to Hold Someone in your Heart picks up 7 years after the events of Lost Souls Meet Under the Fullmoon. While it can be read as a standalone, I think it is much more wholesome to read them together. We get to see an older Ayumi - is grandmother has passed away so he is the sole Go-Between now. Nevertheless, he has declined his relatives offer to have the Go-Between as his full time job and rather wants to be able to stand on his own two feet. That made this story very much about Ayumi living his two lives; one as the contact for bringing people and their deceased loved ones together for one final meeting as well as just finding his way as an ordinary young adult.

Although this particular aspect is very much slice of life, I enjoyed Ayumi's story. He is apprenticed to a firm that produces wooden toys of high quality - partially out of own interest but also due to it having some ties to his late father's work. This also ties back in with the first book and shows us how Ayumi is now handling the knew knowledge of his parents the previous book brought us. I am also personally fond of quality wooden toys and it gave this book a nostalgic touch; among the masses of cheap plastic toys, there's something very special about handmade wooden toys and I could appreciate them along with the characters in this book.

The flow of the story is a little different from the first. While the first book had stories that only gradually merged together and gave you the bigger picture, this sequel was pretty much told in chronological order so there wasn't much to puzzle together. The individual cases were largely sad with a few odd ones, I'd argue that as a whole, the first book's stories were more interesting. It was nonetheless nice to see Ayumi handle the situations and I've come to really appreciate him as a character. I did think that the first chapter was awfully confusing in the sense that it is told from Anna's point of view as the Go-Between - if you are wondering who Anna is, so did I when I read the first chapter! She is a young relative of Ayumi's who stepped in for him for the first chapter. The reason was quite interesting and a nice nudge to the first book, but it did feel unnecessarily confusing. It also never addressed why she is called Anna.

Just a little fun trivia for myself, it was quite fun that not only one but two of the stories had ties to Germany with even a bit of German dialogue thrown in. There were a few typos both in the English and German sections but this might be revised in the proper published versions.

As a whole, it wasn't quite as impactful as the first book but it is still a very nice read for those who enjoy Japanese literature. Last but not least, a small romance is added and I do wish we had seen just a little bit more but it was nonetheless a nice little touch. There wasn't much build up but I think from where the book leaves off, it really was only meant as a potential for budding romance as opposed to it being a core part of the story.

[Majda · Rating 3 out of 5]

Unnecessary sequel, but still sweet.

[Dee Hancocks · Rating 3 out of 5]

How to Hold Someone in your Heart is an excellent second book. As we continue to follow the go-between and meetings we also get more of his life, which I absolutely loved. The whole piece is wholesome, heartwarming and inspiring. There is some repetition with what the go-between does and how it works, which at this point in the series is unnecessary for me. But the good far outweighs this element. Overall a beautiful story about connection with that added magical realism bringing everything more to life. I especially loved the last part, this was emotive and tender! Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for this advanced reader copy. This is a voluntary review of my own thoughts.

[Nadie · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5

[Amy ☁️ (tinycl0ud) · Rating 3 out of 5]

Book 2 is set seven years later so the Go-Between is no longer a teenager but a grown-up with a proper job. He is still helping people meet their deceased loved ones on the side, though, and he reports to the new head of the family, his eight-year-old cousin with a penchant for ice-cream sodas.

If you've read Book 1 then you already know that the novel is split into several parts, with each part focussing on a different set of characters who meet for one night. It is touching, but I didn't cry. Unlike in Book 1, there is no explanation for how this magical service works, so if that would bother you, you have to read Book 1 first. Book 2 feels like a direct continuation and honestly they can be combined into one bound copy and that would work too. Personally, I found Book 1 better because the main character was better developed there. Or maybe it's just that teens still have the propensity for sudden growth and maturation, while adults are already more-or-less fixed in stone.

[belle · Rating 4 out of 5]

【4/5】★★★★☆


While a good book, there are certain points in which it fell flat, but a satisfactory ending in my opinion overall.

I am a Misono and Ayumi shipper, so.

Anyways... I think the first chapter was surprisingly boring. I don't normally think that about anything Tsujimura writes but this character (whom the chapter was about) had nothing about them that would make me like them and relate to them in anyway which was especially disappointing since one of the characters was from the previous novel.

Okay, for my favourite chapters: I really loved Chapter 3 (as always), Chapter 4 was also great, and Chapter 5 was good. Chapter 2 was okay, but I don't have too much to note.

One cute thing I enjoyed was the recurrence of food throughout the story, especially sweet ones. It's just a small thing that I liked.

I have to say the first book was a lot better but if you love Tsujimura a lot and enjoyed Lost Souls Meet Under a Full Moon, I'd say read this for your conclusion, albeit I personally don't think it's the most satisfying of conclusions, idk? Like it's good, it's Tsujimura after all, but I expected more from her. But this is one of her earlier novels to be fair if I am not wrong, so I shall cut her some slack.

If you read this book standalone first, I'd say READ LOST SOULS MEET UNDER A FULL MOON, too. It's amazing. This book COULD work as a standalone for someone reading randomly, but it is NOT as strong as its predecessor.

I will conclude by saying Tsujimura is still an amazing writer to me, and I will continue to read and support her future works, Thank you to Yuki Tejima for delivering another lovely translation.

[Lissi]

3.5 ⭐️

[Chloë ☾ ⋆* · Rating 3 out of 5]

The specific genre of translated Japanese fiction that feels super cosy, like someone is gently telling you a story, is one I really love and can always rely on for a good read. This was just exactly one of those. The different stories within this book each pulled on my heart strings in their own way—I really empathised with how these characters sought closure, a chance to say things they had left unsaid for one reason or another. The structure reminded me a lot of What You Are Looking for is in the Library, and the concept itself reminded me of Before the Coffee gets Cold. If you liked either of those then this is one for you to immerse yourself in and feel all the feels. Thanks to NetGalley and Random House UK for the ARC of this e-book. 🫶🏼

[Tingting C. · Rating 4 out of 5]

真的很喜歡日本小說筆中的細膩如小橋流水， 五個使者的故事與過世的人相見，沒有灑狗血的生離死別，而是充滿原諒 、尊敬、思念和放下，眼淚也許有哀傷但更多了希望。

[BattlecatReads · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 review to follow

[Rosie · Rating 4 out of 5]

3.5 ⭐

I find there is a very special quality in Mizuki Tsujimura's writing, so I was delighted to see this sequel to Lost Souls Meet Under a Full Moon. I loved the concept of the first book, and although the follow-up loses some of the novelty factor, the continuity felt reassuring. How to Hold Someone In Your Heart sparkles with that same quiet, contemplative, and tender atmosphere; like a warm hug, it is no less restorative for its gentleness.

The novel is a beautiful example of Japanese magical realism. Its anchoring is in the young 'go-between', Ayumi, whose role is to arrange a single, final meeting between the living and their deceased loved ones. Seven years on, he is presented with a handful of new clients, each with their own poignant individual story of seeking closure. Whether it is a film star looking for answers from an estranged parent or a historian determined to meet a legendary figure, each vignette is a thoughtful exploration of regret and acceptance, adding another nuance to the overall theme.

As I had hoped, we gain a closer look at Ayumi's inner world, as the focus shifts from merely healing others to the personal cost of his gift. He faces the quiet struggle of balancing his extraordinary, inherited duty with his own everyday hopes and wishes. This exploration of his conflict, his weariness with the full-moon schedule and his desire for a normal life, is a central strength of the follow-up, transforming him into a complex, sympathetic protagonist as he questions the meaning of his powers and helps others find the peace that often eludes him.

While tackling heavy themes of loss and grief, the narrative remains luminous and moving, offering a sensitive meditation on living without regret and cherishing fleeting moments. It's a comforting and heartwarming read, without being saccharine or mawkish. Tsujimura uses magical realism with a light and subtle touch, and the links between the stories don't feel contrived. Though never intense or dramatic, it is far from dull; indeed, like the author's previous work, I found it a consistently poignant and reflective experience.

How to Hold Someone In Your Heart explores how true closure comes not from speaking to the dead, but from learning how to truly carry them. As the novel so beautifully expresses, "It's a gift to live in the world at the same time as the person you have in your heart."

[Gayatri Saikia | per_fictionist · Rating 3 out of 5]

how to hold someone in your heart by mizuki tsujimura skilfully blends gentle magical realism with human fragility, as it tells the story of a young man ayumi, aka the go-between, who possesses a rare gift: the ability to connect the living with the afterlife.

ayumi’s gift isn’t a glamorous one but it certainly is a blessing for those that seek a final goodbye. through his journey, we meet a cast of people desperate for closure: a film star seeking his estranged father; a retired scholar historian wanting to meet his forgotten idol; grieving parents who share their sorrow under the same moon; and a meeting where an enstranged old man seeks his old teenage crush as his final wish is to see the cherry blossoms together.

these meetings that only takes place under a full moon, leaves ayumi (and us) changed. ayumi, himself is torn between the weight of his gift and his desire to live freely in the real world. and through him, the novel asks: what does it mean to “hold someone in your heart”? is it memory, longing, or simply the act of continuing to love them despite their absence?

how to hold someone in your heart is as much about impermanence as it is about living , about learning to let go of regrets, to love more fiercely, and to accept that sometimes, the right connections aren’t made by choice, but by fate.

[Rae · Rating 4 out of 5]

I went into How to Hold Someone in Your Heart without reading the previous book and thankfully, it works perfectly as a standalone. The premise is immediately intriguing: Ayumi, a young man with the rare ability to help people reunite with deceased loved ones under a full moon, facilitates one-time, deeply emotional encounters between the living and the dead.

Each chapter unfolds like a short story, focusing on a new person carrying a specific grief, some looking for closure, some for forgiveness, others simply for one last moment. The reunions are poignant without being melodramatic, and I appreciated how the book handles emotion with restraint and grace. There’s a quiet rhythm to it all, like watching ripples in water, subtle but meaningful.

Ayumi himself is an understated protagonist. He remains something of an observer throughout much of the book, which worked well for me, though I did occasionally wish for more insight into his personal life and emotional world. Still, there’s a reflective undercurrent to his role that lingers after the final page.

The pacing is gentle, slow at times but intentional. It’s less about what happens, and more about what it means. Fans of character-driven fiction and low-key magical realism will likely find a lot to love here. A tender, contemplative novel that explores what it means to let go, and how we continue to hold people in our hearts even after they’re gone.

Thank you Times Reads for sending me a copy in exchange for honest review.

[Sarah · Rating 4 out of 5]

How to Hold Someone in Your Heart by Mizuki Tsujimura, the second book in the Go Between series, is a tender and imaginative story that I was utterly enchanted by. It feels like the perfect companion for autumn, quiet and reflective, with just a touch of magical realism.
The story follows Ayumi, the go between who bridges the worlds of the living and the dead, giving people a final chance to meet someone they have lost. The idea is both heartbreaking and strangely comforting, and from the very first page I was completely drawn in. Each encounter captures that universal yearning for closure, forgiveness, or one more shared moment.
There is a quiet elegance to the way Tsujimura threads these stories together, never forcing emotion but letting it surface naturally. Yuki Tejima’s translation preserves this tone beautifully, capturing a rhythm that shifts gently between ache and comfort.
Ayumi is a quiet, steady presence. Through him, the novel encourages us to confront our own unfinished conversations and the words we never spoke. It is a reminder that closure is rarely tidy, but often something we must learn to shape ourselves.
What struck me most was how seamlessly Tsujimura weaves Japanese culture with emotions that transcend borders. The result is a story that is both painful and tender, filled with quiet wisdom. How to Hold Someone in Your Heart is a book to savour if you are drawn to character driven fiction that contemplates love, loss and connection.
Thank you so much @doubledayukbooks for the copy! Out now.

[Chella K · Rating 4 out of 5]

I enjoyed Lost Souls Meet Under a Full Moon, and I felt this was a great continuation of the series. There were five stories of which the one story of mothers meeting their lost daughters made me cry the other stories were definitely good. I loved the small connection in couple of stories with the first part of series . Each story as usual reminded me of healing that comes with acceptance, loved the way this stories presented I thank netgalley for eARC copy

[Samantha · Rating 3 out of 5]

I stupidly didn’t realise this was a sequel before reading, but I don’t think that affected my experience. I loved the magical realism and the interwoven stories of loss and hope. A beautiful read.

Thank you Random House and NetGalley for the arc

[Hatsune Miku · Rating 4 out of 5]

Personally I felt this book was great - the go-between, the heartfelt stories of the ones who lost their relations and wish to meet them again, it was all so good. To anyone who wants a touching story of life and death, it's for you.

[Kerran Olson · Rating 4 out of 5]

I didn't realise until I started that this is a follow on from Lost Souls... I really love this style of Japanese fiction that connects individual characters through a common theme. another enjoyable read form this author and definitely one I'd recommend within this genre

[marisa · Rating 5 out of 5]

“i wish i’d been able to give her a stronger, healthier body, one that wouldn’t give out on her. if she didn’t have me for a mother, she might have had a more fulfilling life.”

again… as someone actively grieving reading this felt as though my heart was wrenched from my chest then loving placed back in

[Mitchell · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book is sweet - it keeps things simple while analysing some poignant moments of human connection. While it requires some suspension of disbelief, particularly for the vignette involving the warlord from the feudal era, it remains engaging, and the stories don't fall into the trap of being too similar. I'd recommend this to people who like contemporary Japanese fiction

[Mette Hedborg · Rating 4 out of 5]

Tykkäsin mutta ehkä vähemmän ku ekasta. Mut kirjan nimestä alkaen kaunista kirjotusta elämän kuvailusta.

[Ikkychann · Rating 3 out of 5]

While Lost Souls Meet Under a Full Moon explored the ethics of summoning the dead for the benefit of the living, its sequel, How to Hold Someone in Your Heart , turns its gaze toward something quieter yet equally profound: the limitations of direct communication, and the eloquence of what is left behind. Where the first novel questions whether the living have the right to “borrow” the dead for closure, this one wonders whether words—even if granted—could ever be enough.

In one of the most memorable chapters, “The Rule of the Only Daughter,” we meet Ayumi again, now grown up and working in a toy design company, in partnership with a master craftsman named Taisho. Years of collaboration have softened their relationship from professional distance to something warm and familial. Ayumi visits Taisho’s home often, casually greeting his wife and their only daughter, Nao. Through this closeness, Mizuki Tsujimura paints a domestic tenderness that feels almost fragile, making the tragedy that follows all the more devastating.

When Taisho dies suddenly of a heart attack, his absence leaves both a personal and professional void. The studio, which relied entirely on his intuition and leadership, falls into uncertainty. Nao, his daughter, is left adrift—unsure whether her father ever saw her as capable of carrying on his work. He had always been exacting, often critical, and though he allowed her to help, he also repeatedly told her she lacked the skill to lead. Nao’s grief is tangled with this insecurity: a desperate need to know what her father truly thought of her.

As Nao confides her turmoil to him, Ayumi finds himself in a deep moral dilemma. As a Go-Between, he possesses the power to summon an “afterimage” of the dead, yet his code forbids him from using it for personal reasons. His role demands emotional distance; he cannot use his gift to help those he loves, nor indulge his own attachments. In Nao’s pain, he sees the reflection of his own yearning—for clarity, for reassurance, for one last conversation with those who are gone. His restraint becomes a quiet act of respect, not only for his duty, but for the living’s need to find meaning without supernatural aid.

Ayumi’s inner conflict brings forth one of the novel’s central questions: do we truly need to hear from the dead to understand them? Or do we already hold their answers within us, embedded in the things they left behind? Tsujimura challenges the comforting fantasy that if we could just ask our loved ones one final question, all our doubts would vanish. Through Nao’s story, she argues that closure is rarely a matter of direct answers, and that the truth, when it arrives, often comes through fragments—through craft, memory, and gesture rather than speech.

In life, Taisho was a man who communicated through creation rather than conversation. His words were often brusque, but his care and wisdom were embedded in the physical things he made. This is why Nao’s search for meaning eventually shifts from her father’s words to his work. When she discovers the modified version of the toy dog she once designed, she initially reads it as rejection: evidence that he thought her design was flawed. But this interpretation, though painful, is incomplete. The change—the added oval hole for a handle—is not a criticism, but a lesson. Through it, Taisho is doing what he always did: teaching her to see more carefully, to think beyond appearance, to consider the hands of the child who will play with it. His silence was never empty; it was full of guidance, waiting for her to learn how to listen.

Ayumi, remembering Taisho’s quiet approval of another design—the block puzzle Nao once made—recognizes this pattern of love hidden in discipline. Taisho’s decision to produce that toy was his way of acknowledging her talent, though he could never bring himself to say it outright. This memory becomes a key moment of illumination for both Ayumi and Nao: the realization that affection and validation can exist even in the absence of explicit praise.

By choosing not to use his power, Ayumi allows Nao to reach this understanding on her own. Her journey toward it is painful, even humiliating at first. She reads her father’s corrections as proof of failure. But through reflection and persistence, she begins to see his intentions more clearly. Her turning point comes when she holds one of the modified toys and says, “I can’t give up... Knowing that with a few small adjustments, the toys can transform into this...” It is in that moment that grief transforms into gratitude. She no longer seeks her father’s approval as an external answer; instead, she draws strength from the legacy he left her.

Nao’s final decision to continue the studio is not made because she knows what her father wanted, but because she feels it—because everything he created, everything he taught her through his work, leads her there. The “conversation” they never had becomes one of gestures, tools, and silent inheritance.

For Ayumi, this experience becomes a revelation. He finally understands that not every loss requires the intervention of a Go-Between. Some families, some loves, communicate more honestly through what remains than through any conjured dialogue. “This family doesn’t need the Go-Between,” he realizes. “Sometimes, the things that people left behind spoke more eloquently than any number of words.”

This is the emotional and philosophical climax of the novel. Tsujimura uses Ayumi’s restraint as an act of faith: faith in human connection, in the legibility of love through legacy. The novel reminds us that even if we could speak to the dead, their words might not bring the clarity we imagine. Communication is never perfect, even between the living; what endures instead is the shape of love made visible through what they built, touched, or left undone.

In the end, How to Hold Someone in Your Heart beautifully suggests that the most meaningful conversations often transcend language. A legacy—a toy, a studio, a workbench, a memory—becomes a living dialogue between generations. The story insists that grief does not always demand answers, but understanding; not a message from beyond, but the courage to keep interpreting the world that those we loved once shaped. By refusing to take the supernatural shortcut, Tsujimura affirms something profoundly human: that love’s truest form of communication is continuity itself.

P.S.: There are a few things I find frustrating about this duology by Mizuki Tsujimura. While I deeply admire her emotional intelligence and the warmth that underlies her writing, both Lost Souls Meet Under a Full Moon and How to Hold Someone in Your Heart suffer from a similar structural flaw: a sense of repetition, both in their narrative rhythm and in their emotional patterning.

Across both books, the “Go-Between" system—its rituals, its ethics, its rules—is reintroduced again and again. Each new client must hear the same explanation, and Ayumi, as a professional, must deliver it with the same composure and restraint. From a world-building standpoint, this makes sense. In the logic of the story, every new encounter requires a restatement of the code, and Tsujimura may have intended this repetition to emphasize ritual—an echo of the unchanging, sacred quality of Ayumi’s work. In theory, it mirrors how grief itself can feel repetitive: the same pain revisited in different forms.

However, from a reader’s perspective, this ritualistic repetition begins to dull the emotional edge of the story. It starts to feel less like intentional structure and more like redundancy—almost as if Tsujimura doesn’t fully trust her audience to remember the rules from the previous book. What should have felt like a consistent moral framework instead becomes a predictable refrain, breaking immersion and slowing the narrative’s momentum. When the rules are finally bent or subverted, as in Nao’s chapter, the story feels alive again, reminding us what the series is capable of when it risks variation.

This tension reflects a broader trade-off between in-world consistency and reader engagement. Tsujimura prioritizes the former, perhaps at the expense of freshness. A subtler approach could have achieved both—hinting at the rules through dialogue, behavior, or visual detail rather than restating them outright. Trusting the reader’s intelligence would not have undermined the sacredness of the ritual; it would have made it more believable.

The second issue I have is more about genre than execution: the novel’s deep entrenchment in what is often called the Iyashikei or “healing” genre. Over the past few years, this form has gained immense popularity in Japanese literature, with titles such as Before the Coffee Gets Cold and Days at Morisaki Bookshop finding large international audiences. These stories are built to comfort. They promise emotional restoration through predictable arcs: the introduction of grief, a journey toward understanding, and a bittersweet but soothing resolution. Tears are almost guaranteed because the structure is designed to produce them.

For readers who crave emotional reassurance, this genre offers a kind of gentle salvation. But for readers seeking complexity, moral ambiguity, or the raw, unpolished textures of real loss, it can start to feel mechanical. The sentimentality begins to feel prescribed, the catharsis pre-packaged. When every story delivers the same rhythm of despair and redemption, it risks losing emotional credibility. The tears become “assured,” but they are also safe.

Even the aesthetic of Tsujimura’s setting reinforces this sense of polished comfort. The world of the Go-Between is steeped in refinement: luxurious hotels, affluent families, elegant meals, clients with social and financial stability —-they are not just background details; they are active components of the escapist fantasy. They remove the "ugly" problems of financial stress, allowing the narrative to focus purely on emotional and spiritual pain. They create a world that is not only emotionally resolved but also materially perfect, resulting in a double-layered escapism: emotional and economic.

In this way, the two criticisms—the repetition of the rules and the predictability of emotional beats—are intertwined. Both function as mechanisms of reassurance. For Tsujimura’s intended audience, that familiarity is precisely the point. The repetition, the quiet ritual, the guaranteed tears—all serve the same function as a well-loved comfort food recipe. The pleasure lies in the knowing, not the surprise.

Yet this comfort also signals something larger about the cultural moment. The overwhelming popularity of Iyashikei stories in Japan—and increasingly, abroad—suggests a collective yearning for order and meaning in a time of instability. Economic stagnation, social isolation, and the quiet erosion of certainty have left readers craving narratives that promise emotional safety. In these stories, grief always finds process, relationships always find resolution, and the world, however briefly, becomes gentle again. They are not escapism in the shallow sense, but a kind of psychological refuge.

My frustration, then, is not with Tsujimura alone, but with what this genre represents. How to Hold Someone in Your Heart is not a “bad” book—far from it. It’s an effective, deeply sincere work that achieves exactly what it sets out to do: to comfort. But it belongs to a literary mode whose very success depends on smoothing out the rough edges of life. For a reader who longs for fiction that mirrors reality’s contradictions—where pain remains unresolved, where love and guilt coexist without tidy moral balance—such comfort can feel hollow.

In the end, my criticism is less a rejection and more an acknowledgment of distance. The Go-Between duology offers a beautifully crafted space of solace, but my own desire, at least right now, leans toward stories that confront the chaos directly, that dare to leave wounds open. Tsujimura writes about healing; I find myself drawn to the ache that resists it.

[Ipshita · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5 ✨

[Bloss ♡ · Rating 3 out of 5]

I thought the first book, Lost Souls Meet Under a Full Moon, was emotionally-stirring and a fresh take on what's quickly becoming a trope.

This second instalment didn't hit the same notes for me. Instead of each character's perspective, we almost exclusively follow Ayumi around this time... and the story line feels fragmented and repetitive creating a similar template-style format that plagues series like Before the Coffee Gets Cold and Food Detectives. It's not quite as bad as those examples because it's saved by the through line of Ayumi's story but it was a noticeable departure from the first instalment. We even had entire sections repeated verbatim, which in a book this compact, really stands out.

Opening with the Anna section was a confusing choice. Why Anna stood in is revealed later on but getting reacquainted with the world was trickier. It was interesting to see Ayumi's human life and his go-between life juxtaposed, but I'm not sure I'm feeling the romance that's being telegraphed through the book.

As with the first book, I felt the translation was well done. There was a good sense of people and place.

Barring the unique story with the historian, which was the best in the book IMO, I felt like I'd read these stories multiple times across Before the Coffee Gets Cold and Chibineko Kitchen. If Tsujimura continues the series, I hope that the next one is the conclusion or I fear it'll exhaust itself too - there's only so many times we can read the same stories. I opine that the next book will make or break the series.

I had my request to review this book approved on NetGalley by Random House UK, Transworld Publishers.

[aya · Rating 3 out of 5]

一作目の「ツナグ」が好きでこちらの続編も読んでみました。章ごとに異なる依頼人のエピソードが描かれると同時に全編を通して歩美のストーリーについても語られるこの作品の構成が変わらず読むのが楽しかった。また、一作目と繋がる部分もあり楽しかった反面一作目と比べてしまうと大きな新たに知って驚く展開のようなものは無く、物足りなく感じてしまう面もあった。

[Kelly · Rating 4 out of 5]

How to Hold Someone in Your Heart is the follow up to Lost Souls Meet Under a Full Moon. Both books center around the idea of a go-between, a person that can connect the living with the dead.

The first book felt more like a collection of stories that were interconnected, with only the final story providing insight into the go-between. In the sequel it’s almost exactly the opposite.

The first person looking to connect turns out to be connected to the actress in one of the stories of the first book. He’s trying to connect her on her behalf, not knowing she’s already had her meeting, and ends up meeting his own absentee father instead. This story features little of Ayumi, instead his young cousin Anna acts as the go-between in his place.

The next stories go back to Ayumi being the go-between, but unlike the previous book, much of each story is told just as much from his perspective and what he learns from the requests people make as they are about some kind of closure or enlightenment for the person making the request.

I felt like the second story was bogged down until the end; this by far was the hardest one for me to get through. It focuses on a man that has chosen an alternate path to a family, instead researching and venerating a historical figure from his prefect who he requests to meet in person.

The third story is about women who lost their daughters at very different ages in very different circumstances who both end up reconnecting on the same night.

The fourth story and the most personal one to Ayumi is when someone he knows personally passes away unexpectedly and he debates whether he should offer the ability to reconnect to the man’s daughter, a friend who wants to continue the family business.

The final story is also interesting, a man who has been making the same request for decades to see a girl he knew as a teenager who has turned down his request every time. When she finally accepts, the reader is likely to be surprised why he has been trying to reach her for so many years.

The stories don’t always feel completely cohesive, though there is improvement on this in the second book, and I think translation probably strips out some of the intent and poignancy that likely exists in the original Japanese. But they are quick reading, thought provoking and enjoyable. I wouldn’t be surprised to see a third book in the future.

A complimentary copy of this book was provided by the publisher. All thoughts and opinions are my own.