A soft blog about randomness, memory, and morning moods.
There is something undeniably enchanting about books that center around other books, or better yet, magical bookshops. That is what initially drew me to A Lost Bookstore. A mysterious bookstore, parallel timelines, and a sprinkle of magic? Sign me up. The premise alone felt like the literary equivalent of a warm cup of tea on a rainy day.
And to be fair, the book does start off exactly that way: cozy, immersive, and filled with that gentle magic that makes you want to curl up and stay awhile. But as the story progressed, my initial excitement dulled into a kind of quiet disappointment. While the book had its strengths, it also had several flaws that made it just an “okay” read in the end.
Let me walk you through my thoughts.
From the very first few chapters, I was pulled in by the atmosphere. The author’s writing is soft and lyrical, almost soothing. It fits perfectly with the magical realism tone of the book—gentle enough to not overwhelm, but vivid enough to make the bookstore feel alive.
The mysterious bookshop itself is one of the stars of the story. The way it is described—shifting, hidden, with secrets tucked between shelves—made me want to step inside and never leave. If you have ever fantasized about stumbling upon a secret bookstore that changes lives, this book will hit a sweet spot.
Then there is the element of parallel timelines, which was a fascinating narrative choice. It added depth to the story and gave it a layered structure that promised complexity. The dual storylines, each unfolding in their own time but weaving together in subtle ways, kept me engaged early on. There is a gentle unraveling of secrets, and watching the past echo into the present is one of the most satisfying aspects of the novel.
Unfortunately, the book does not quite manage to keep that magic going all the way through. Somewhere around the halfway point, the plot begins to lose its sense of mystery. What started off with intrigue and quiet suspense turned into something rather predictable.
I do not mind foreshadowing or seeing hints of what is to come. In fact, that can be satisfying when done right. But here, it felt like the story gave away too much too soon. I found myself accurately guessing key plot twists well before they happened, which dulled the emotional impact. For a book rooted in mystery and wonder, predictability is a bit of a letdown.
Another issue that stood out to me was the handling of certain plot elements that felt unnecessary or jarring. One in particular: the accidental pregnancy storyline. While I understand it was used to further character development and connect threads between timelines, it felt like an overused trope. It added drama, yes, but not necessarily the kind that felt organic or earned. I would have much preferred a different way to move the story forward that did not rely on this narrative device.
Even more frustrating was the romantic subplot. Both of the central women in the story are described as having painful pasts with men and holding unconventional worldviews. They are written as strong, introspective characters who have grown cautious or even skeptical about love. So when they quickly fall for the first kind man who walks into their lives, it feels inconsistent.
Not that kindness should not be rewarded or that love should not blossom, but it happens so quickly and conveniently that it undermines the depth that the author initially tried to build into these women. It reads more like wish fulfillment than authentic character growth. It is especially noticeable because the rest of the book tries to portray emotional complexity, yet in these moments, it takes the easiest, most expected route.
Despite its flaws, I would not say A Lost Bookstore is a bad book. On the contrary, it has a lot of heart. There is a quiet wisdom to the way the characters reflect on their lives, choices, and regrets. The themes—memory, healing, second chances—are beautifully timeless.
It is a book that feels like it wants to be comforting and meaningful, and to a certain extent, it is. If you are looking for something low-stakes, magical, and character-driven, this book might be the right fit. I think some readers will absolutely love it for the very reasons I found it underwhelming. The predictability may feel reassuring rather than dull, and the romantic elements might be seen as sweet instead of rushed.
But for me, it just did not quite hit the mark. It started strong but ended up feeling like a story that played it too safe. It had all the ingredients to be something truly memorable, but did not take the risks needed to get there.
Yes, but with a few caveats. If you are in the mood for a quiet, reflective story with just a dash of magic, A Lost Bookstore could be the perfect cozy escape. It is especially suited for readers who enjoy character-focused narratives and do not mind a bit of predictability in their plots.
Just go in with tempered expectations, and you will likely enjoy the journey more than I did. It is a fun read—nothing groundbreaking, but not a waste of time either.