This bittersweet book follows Yeon-hwa, who inherits her grandmother’s pastry shop and its secrets. All she wants to do is sell it, instead, she's tasked with running it and repaying her grandmother’s debts. During which she is met with visitors whose tender stories of regret, hope, and forgiveness, unfold between bites of magical confections.

The book is structured around five tender, bittersweet stories, four of which are visitors to the shop:
🍪 A mother trying to mend old mistakes with chocolate crackers.
🥮 A former athlete haunted by lost chances and plum blossom buns.
🍡 Two inseparable friends who never got to share the green tea dango they dreamed of.
🍓 Awkward step-siblings brought closer through games and strawberry rice cakes.
🌰 And finally, Sa-wol, a boy bound to the shop by old debts and quiet goodbyes, his story steeped in chestnut yanggaeng.

The stories were moving and thought-provoking. The book was good overall, though Yeon-hwa’s quick acceptance of the shop felt odd, given how little she knew of her grandmother. I appreciated how the stories in the book were real, and had their feet firmly stuck to the ground. No 'cosy' factor, just a slight warm tingly feeling.

This book made me feel like savouring a piece of Yakgwa; comforting. Each page carries the depth of memories and quiet emotions, finally offering a piece of solace.

A Midnight Pastry Shop Called Hwawoldang
by Lee Onhwa is an endearing, emotional, thought provoking read. Introducing us to Yeon-hwa, who having been orphaned at a young age was brought up by her emotionally remote grandma who has recently passed.

In her will, her grandma left her business to Yeon-hwa - Hwawoldang, a traditional dessert shop that has been in their family for generations but of course there’s a caveat, Yeon-Hwa cannot sell the shop straightaway and must open every evening from 10 to midnight. Yeon-hwa reluctantly agrees to take the shop on temporarily until she can sell it but, on meeting Hwawoldang’s clients, Yeon-Hwa is immediately drawn into their lives, experiencing the memories, sadness and regrets of each.

Having recently lost my Mam, I was touched deeply by this book and the stories of each of the shop’s clients. This book isn’t saccharine sweet and doesn’t presume that a coffee or a dessert will solve every problem or fix every mistake. This book is a reminder that life is short, often brutally and unexpectedly short, that those you love are important, and that honesty about your feelings and emotions is truly valuable.

Lee Onhwa has written a more realistic and thought-provoking story that doesn’t promise to dive all problems but, does make you feel, think and of course hunger for the delicious sounding traditional Korean desserts.

Thank you so much Michael Joseph, Penguin Randomhouse and NetGalley for this arc in exchange for my honest and sincere review.

Oh this really was a wonderfully thought-provoking book. Where many of the popular Japanese translated books are typically very cosy and feel-good, I’ve found that the Korean stories are a little more realistic and written to provide life lessons. This book is no exception.

Yeon-hwa is a bit of a lost soul. A 27-year-old girl who has just lost her grandma, a family member she never felt a close connection with. Upon meeting her grandma’s solicitor, she realises she has inherited Hwawoldang, a traditional dessert shop that has been in the family for generations. But the one condition of her inheritance is that she must not sell it immediately and must open every evening from 10 to midnight.

Yeon-hwa reluctantly agrees, hoping she can sell it as soon as possible. However, as soon as she meets Hwawoldang’s customers, she knows she has a real job on her hands. As she is brought into the memories of each customer, she learns about their deepest regrets and the sadness they feel now that they cannot make amends. And also that these customers are not as normal as they first seem. You’ll have to read on to find out why [:

I really enjoyed this book and learning about each of the shop’s customers. It made me feel that life really is too short and you shouldn’t wait to express your feelings or do the things you’ve always wanted to do. It also emphasises the importance of family relationships. Finally, what was refreshing about this story wasn’t that life is perfect or could be fixed with a hot coffee. Some of the scenes were quite disturbing!

I’m swinging towards a 4-stars with this one!

What kind of pastry shop only opens at night? Twenty-something Yeon-hwa is about to find out! Although she has not taken much interest in her grandmother's traditional sweet shop in recent years, she suddenly finds herself the recipient of an unexpected inheritance after her grandmother passes.

Because not only does she have to keep the shop open for a certain period of time in order to benefit from any inheritance, she also has to do so successfully in order to avoid being saddled with her grandmother's debts!

But as Yeon-hwa soon discovers, there is a lot more to this place than she ever dreamed - and her customers are a most unusual lot...

One thing that I particularly liked about this story is that - unlike many other books in a similar vein currently available in contemporary Korean and Japanese literature - the language in the tale flows easily, and the characters' actions seem more relatable than in many other such books where interactions seem awkward. Whether this is a reflection of the author's writing style or the translator's skill, I do not know. But it makes the novel far more accessible and a smoother read than many of its counterparts. This gets 3.5 stars.

2.5 stars for me - I just think this wasn't for me , it was definitely cozy and the artwork on the cover really is lovely but the story wasn't it for me.

I think I’m officially exhausted of these stories. They’re all the same! I thought this would have more substance, and more about the granddaughter taking over the store, but it’s the usual twee serial short format about communing with the dead.

It was too neat. Too simplistic. Too saccharine. I wanted more substance than the story gave me. The writing and the plot felt more geared to young readers than something for adults. There was a noticeable amount of awkward and repetitive phrasing, particularly in the dialogue, that felt unnatural. Overall, the writing/translation felt super rushed.

Communing with the dead, uncommunicative or passive characters, food, and cats are all starting to feel like tickbox lists that authors include. Like they’re all writing to an assignment brief, but there isn’t any variation to keep things interesting.

I didn’t hate this, but I was bored by it.

"Then the door chime sang again, and this time, a middle-aged woman in a flower-print dress entered – and I could tell instantly from the nervous look in her eye and her awkward steps that she had to be a customer.
Sa-wol noticed the customer, too, and whispered, ‘I’m actually a shaman. And I know about the thing your grandmother mentioned in her will. The answer to your “little” problem.’
‘You do?’ I said in disbelief, but instead of replying, Sa-wol grinned obliviously and turned on his heel.

쇠종이 한 번 더 울렸다. 이번에는 노란색 꽃무늬 패턴 원피스를 입은 중년 여자가 입장했다. 낯설어하며 고개를 두리번거리는 몸짓과 불안한 눈빛으로 보아 이번에는 확실히 손님이었다. 사월은 손님이 온 것을 확인하고는 재빨리 목소리를 낮춰 속삭였다.
“사실 난 무당이고요, 할머니 유서에 적힌 ‘그것’도 알고 있지요.”
“예? 정말인가요?” 그가 아이처럼 천진하게 웃더니 등을 돌려 나갔다."

A Midnight Pastry Shop Called Hwawoldang is Slin Jung's translation of 시간이 멈춰선 화과자점, 화월당입니다 by 이온화 (Lee Onhwa).

The novel is narrated by a 27 year old woman Hong Yeonhwa and opens:

"Life is a fleeting moment, but our bonds will last forever. Those were Grandma’s last words. The sky was bright and clear when she left on her final journey, like even death had put on a cloak of sunshine in honour of her gentle humility. It was a lovely spring day with the flowers in spectacular bloom. I didn’t cry. Grandma’s passing didn’t destroy my life. I was twenty- seven years old; I could eat, go shopping, and even change the batteries of a dead clock all by myself. I put on a brave face, and life went on as if nothing had happened. I’d known since I was little that even as people died around me, yesterday would still lead into today, which would lead into tomorrow."

Her grandmother has died, her parents having died some years earlier in a traffic accident, and has left her traditional Korean/Japanese dessert shop, Hwawoldang (which conveys a sense of Flower Moon), to her in her will. But the shop is unsellable, and the bequest comes with a large debt (100m Won, or c£55,000), and the promise that she has been left everything she needs to run Hwawoldang and a way to repay the debt, but on three conditions:

- she personally runs the shop for at least one month
- she opens the shop from 10pm to midnight everyday
- she waits in anticipation

The shop itself: "I was standing outside the Hwawoldang, its pink neon sign a shock of cherry blossoms in the deep of night. Once a small, single- storey residence, the traditional sweetshop was packed with décor in bright primary colours, the sort of place that might tempt East Asian versions of Hansel and Gretel. The Chinese characters for ‘parting’ and ‘blessing’ were proudly displayed on the wall, below which was an image of a magnificent dragon in flight. The shop interior looked like one massive talisman."

When she opens her first visitor is Sa-wol (literally April) a young man who is a shaman and seems - see the opening quote - to know the secrets of the shop. And her second is a woman who requests a particular dessert - Chocolate Jeonbyeong Crackers (초콜릿 전병) - which she needs by midnight.

It quickly transpires - no spoiler alert needed I think - that the woman is dead, and needs this dessert, which is associated with memories of her death in a fire, to allow her spirit to pass to the other side and be reincarnated. My holding her hand, Yeonhwa is able to enter into memories of her life and death (and the reader is able to read them) as well as significance of the requested dessert.

And that sets the pattern for the novel - each chapter features a recently-deceased person and a particular dessert request:

Chocolate Jeonbyeong Crackers - 초콜릿 전병
Plum-Blossom Manju Buns - 매화꽃 화과자
Green Tea Dang - 녹차 당고
Strawberry Chapssaltteok - 딸기 찹쌀떡
Chestnut Yanggaeng - 밤 양갱

Which makes for some mouthwatering food descriptions - this actually from a meal, accompanied by makgeolli (막걸리) rather than one of the desserts:

"I thought of so many people as I raised my bowl and took that first sip of thick sweetness. As the pleasant tipsiness set in, I reached for the edges of the pajeon, fried almost as crispy as the jeonbyeong crackers, but savoury with the flavour of the oil and the gentle kick of the onion. Then I went for two pieces of the dotorimuk, moist and smooth but supple to chew. The chilli powder, vinegar and sugar offset the hint of acorn bitterness nicely. This combination always reminded me of a certain day in early summer, when I sat in the living room with Grandma and both my parents, eating and talking about nothing in particular."

But the stories themselves were rather too twee (particularly versus the rather tragic underlying stories) for my taste.

To the extent there is any plot, it revolves around Sa-wol's own story, and its relationship to Yeonhwa's situation. And the growth in her own self-identity:

‘I’m me! Not “granddaughter of Lim Yun-ok”, not the “heir to the Hwawoldang”, just me! Hong Yeonhwa!’

2.5 stars - rather too sweet a dessert, which left me yearning for a savoury main course (and a bowl of 막걸리).

I adored this book.

We follow Yeon-Hwa as she's thrown into running her Grandmothers mysterious sweet shop.
Each chapter takes us into the life of a new customer, and I loved each of the stories.
All of the characters felt so rich, the stories were emotional and engaging.
The setting was cosy and inviting.
The cover of this book is stunning.

If you love books like Before the Coffee Gets Cold, then I think you'd love this.
I'm so glad I got the chance to read it.