Book Review: The Travelling Cat Chronicles by Hiro Arikawa

Hiro Arikawa’s The Travelling Cat Chronicles is one of those quiet novels that stays with you long after you close the book. At first glance, it seems like a gentle road-trip story about a man and his cat. But as you move through its pages, it reveals itself to be something much deeper: a meditation on companionship, memory, and the bittersweet truth that nothing in life lasts forever. It’s tender without being sentimental, humorous without being shallow, and heartbreaking without losing its grace.

The story begins when Satoru, a kind and gentle man, adopts a stray cat who takes the name Nana. Their relationship is not described with flowery words or dramatic declarations—it simply exists, solid and unquestionable, like the best friendships often do. What makes the novel immediately engaging is that much of the story is told through Nana’s perspective. He is sharp-tongued, sarcastic, and just the right amount of arrogant, which makes his observations both funny and painfully honest. There’s something refreshing about having a cat as a narrator, because it strips away human politeness and reveals the raw truth beneath everyday moments.

When Satoru finds himself in a situation where he can no longer keep Nana, the two set off on a journey across Japan to visit Satoru’s old friends in search of a new home for the cat. Each stop on their trip adds another layer to Satoru’s story. Through these reunions, we learn about the people who shaped him, the losses he endured, and the quiet kindness that defines him. The structure is deceptively simple: a series of visits, conversations, and memories. Yet in these seemingly ordinary encounters lies an emotional depth that builds steadily until it overwhelms you in the final chapters.

One of the things I loved most about this book is how it balances humor with poignancy. Nana’s witty, often cheeky commentary brings levity to the story, but his devotion to Satoru is unmistakable. He teases, he complains, he boasts about his independence—but when it matters most, his love is unwavering. That duality is what makes him such a believable and endearing character. You laugh at his arrogance, but you also ache for him as the story’s deeper themes come into focus.

Arikawa’s prose, beautifully translated by Philip Gabriel, is simple but elegant. There are no unnecessary embellishments, just clean and precise storytelling that allows the emotions to shine through. The descriptions of Japan’s landscapes—the golden fields, the glistening oceans, the quiet roads—give the book a sense of place that is both grounding and soothing. Reading it feels like taking a slow journey, one where you can appreciate the scenery while also reflecting on the people and moments that make life meaningful.

What truly elevates the novel is the way it handles love and loss. It does not shy away from the pain of saying goodbye, but neither does it wallow in despair. Instead, it frames loss as an inevitable part of life, something to be accepted with dignity and gratitude for the moments shared. In that sense, it reminded me of the Japanese concept of mono no aware—the awareness of life’s impermanence and the quiet beauty that comes with it. The book doesn’t preach this philosophy; it simply embodies it.

By the end, I found myself both smiling and crying, sometimes at the same moment. The journey of Satoru and Nana is heartbreaking, but it is never bleak. Instead, it leaves you with a profound appreciation for the bonds we form, whether with people or with animals, and for the joy that even fleeting connections can bring. If you’ve ever loved a pet, you’ll recognize the depth of unspoken understanding that passes between Satoru and Nana. But even if you haven’t, you’ll still find in their story a universal truth about the way love enriches our lives.

Reading The Travelling Cat Chronicles feels like being let in on a secret—one that is simple, yet transformative. It tells you, quietly but firmly, that love matters, that kindness matters, and that sometimes the greatest journeys are not about where you go, but who you take with you.

This is not a book you read for thrills or fast-paced drama. It is a book you sit with, absorb slowly, and carry with you afterward. It will make you laugh at a cat’s stubborn pride, it will make you ache for a man’s unspoken sacrifices, and it will remind you that even in endings, there can be beauty.

Rating: ★★★★★ (5/5)
A tender, heartfelt novel that is as much about life as it is about loss. It will break your heart, but in the gentlest way possible. And perhaps that is what makes it unforgettable.