I would rate Convenience Store Woman **4 out of 5**.

It is a deceptively simple book, but I found myself thinking about it long after I finished reading it. At times, I felt that something might have been slightly lost in translation, but the story was still incredibly intriguing, especially the characters of Keiko and Shiraha.

What fascinated me most was Keiko's understanding of herself.

From a young age, she realises that she doesn't naturally behave in the way society expects. Over time, she learns that it is easier to survive if she simply observes people around her and imitates what they consider normal.

She knows she is different.
But she also understands something important:
The convenience store becomes almost like a perfectly organised ecosystem for Keiko. There are rules, routines, sounds and patterns. Everyone has a role, and she knows exactly how she is supposed to function within that world.

And strangely enough, she seems perfectly comfortable there.

Then comes Shiraha.

I found their relationship particularly interesting because Keiko initially seems willing to take him in and even feed him for life, almost as a way of escaping the constant questions and expectations of society.

If she has a man, perhaps people will stop asking why she is single. Perhaps society will finally consider her normal.

But eventually, Keiko realises something much more important.
That realisation stayed with me.

Because the book made me think about how much of our own lives are shaped by expectations that we rarely stop to question.

When we are born and during our early years in school, we may dream about becoming someone or doing something simply because we want to.

Then, as we grow older, the questions slowly begin.

What are you going to study?
What career are you going to choose?
When are you getting a job?
When are you getting married?
When are you having children?
Then comes the next stage: wealth, a house, the children's education, their careers and their future.

And suddenly, we realise that we have spent much of our lives responding to expectations that were not necessarily our own.
Perhaps the first 10 or 15 years of our lives are the only time when we are relatively free from this script.

After that, we slowly learn how to fit ourselves into the expectations of family, friends, colleagues and society.

And when someone chooses not to follow that path, we often don't simply accept it as a different choice.

We call them abnormal.

That made me think about how strange our definition of "normal" actually is.

Is someone abnormal because they don't want marriage?
Because they don't want children?
Because they are happy with a simple job?
Because they don't want to constantly chase more money or status?

Or are they simply living differently from the majority?

Keiko's story also made me think about something closer to home: how easily we begin to identify ourselves with our careers.

We say, "I am an engineer," "I am a doctor," "I am a teacher," or "I am a manager."

Slowly, what we do becomes who we are.
Perhaps that is one of the saddest things about growing up.

We start with dreams of becoming someone.

Then we become something that society considers useful, successful or acceptable.

And sometimes we don't even realise that we have stopped asking ourselves what we actually want.

What makes Keiko so fascinating is that, in her own unusual way, she refuses to completely lose herself.

She eventually stops trying so hard to satisfy society's expectations.

She understands who she is.
And she is okay with it.
I don't think Convenience Store Woman gives us a clear answer to these questions. Instead, it makes us uncomfortable enough to ask them ourselves.

And that is probably what stayed with me the most after finishing it.