I keep hearing people say that Twilight fans are only Twilight fans, and that there is no basis for the hope that Yen Press’ upcoming graphic novel adaptation might bring a new demographic of readers to comics. And all I can think is, wow, I guess none of these people were ever… girls.

Sure, there may be readers who only read Twilight and aren’t into books in general. But there are a whole lot who are. Teen girls read. Teen girls read a lot.

When I was a teen, I was a huge fan of S.E. Hinton’s The Outsiders, and just at the right time, Francis Ford Coppola made his movie adaptation. I was totally into it. I bought every magazine and newspaper that featured a story about the movie. I had posters (lots of posters) of the actors on my bedroom wall. If the internet had been available at the time, I would have been all over that too. If I could have gotten into the same room with S.E. Hinton or C. Thomas Howell just by sitting in line for a few days at a convention in San Diego, I would have begged to be allowed to go.

You know what else I was doing at that time? Reading everything in sight. No, seriously. Everything. I ran through my junior high’s library like it was about to disappear into the core of the earth. My mother had to make a rule that I could only take out of the public library as many books as I could carry on my own. And it wasn’t just me. All my friends were reading (and reading and reading). That’s what we did. That’s what a lot of teen girls do. Just because I was crazy excited about The Outsiders, that didn’t mean I stopped reading other books. If anything, it gave me a whole new world to explore as I picked up Hinton’s other novels, realizing suddenly that, hell, I really liked stories about troubled pretty boys in gangs. And though I’d like to make grand claims about my improved taste as an adult, well… Banana Fish anyone? Wild Adapter? Let Dai?

However many “just Twilight” fans there might be out there, I feel certain there must be just as many who are simply Teen Girls Who Read. Are they still rabid over Twilight? Hell, yeah. But that doesn’t make all the rest suddenly disappear. So when they run out to pick up the Twilight graphic novel and figure out that they like it, why is it so unlikely they might look for more of the same, especially when there are shelves and shelves of comics (and yes, I’m looking at you, manga and manhwa) aimed precisely at them? I’m pretty sure if anyone had handed me a volume of Banana Fish when I was fourteen, I would have eaten it up with a spoon.

I don’t love Twilight. I do love comics. And my hope is very much alive.

When I think about what I want most in life, something that comes to mind always is a life without alarm clocks. What I mean by that really, of course, is a life without the need to be at a specific place at a specific time every day.

Don’t get me wrong. This isn’t about a desire to not work. I love to work and would be utterly lost without it. I even manage to turn all my hobbies into work, one way or another. It’s not about the desire to sleep later in the mornings. I’m somewhat of a morning person and will get up on my own sometime between 6:00 and 8:00 AM (skewing earlier in the summer, later in the winter–I hate to get up in the dark), alarm or no alarm. Rather, it’s the burden of the time clock (real or metaphorical) that makes getting up on workdays so unpleasant–the knowledge that one must adhere to a specific routine, day after day, year after year.

I suppose, to put this into practical terms, what I wish for is to work from home and/or perhaps with flexible hours. Again, it’s not as though I wish to work less. I’m constantly seeking more work outside of my regular day job. Nor do I wish to be free of time constraints. I thrive on deadlines and am worse than useless without them. What I desire is freedom within a framework of deadlines–freedom to manage my time as I see fit in the moment–freedom to be in control of my own process, which is, after all, the aspect of work I most treasure. What else? I suppose, freedom to wear pajamas whenever I like (which, frankly, would be most of the time) and to take walks with my dog while the sun still shines. I have ideas about how I might one day live this dream, though they seem quite far-fetched at the moment. For now, I cling to these as distant hopes.

I realize, of course, that my complaints fall very much into the realm of First World Problems and my wishes hardly qualify as “great” by most standards. Still, I think dreaming is important and today seems to be the day for it.

Happy New Year, friends. I hope you’ll ponder on your dreams today as well.

The most recent example of this is my newly acquired library card. Yes, I’m embarrassed to say, I *just* got a library card here in town, though I’ve lived here since late 2000. I applied for my card one evening a month or so ago without a hitch, but when I tried later to create a login for the library system’s online reservation service, it did not recognize my card number. I tried again over the course of several days, both from my home computer and from work. Eventually, I dragged myself back in to the library to see what was up, and weirdly, the card registered just fine on the library’s own computers. Elated to have fixed the problem, I gleefully logged in later that night from home, only to encounter the same problem as before.

Since then, I’ve e-mailed the library for help. A very nice woman deleted my PIN number, certain that the problem was an incorrectly entered PIN, but of course that *isn’t* the problem (the system does not recognize my number, PIN or no PIN) so that didn’t help at all. My husband is able to log in with his card from home without a problem. Our friend who visits the house is able to log on. It’s not our ISP, it’s not my browser, it’s not anything I can possibly control from here. Now I’m waiting for some other response from the library, but by now the situation has cranked my social anxiety level up to about 100 (out of 10) and I’m feeling so frustrated, I wonder if I’ll ever be able to force myself to use the library again. My heart cries out, “WHY? Why does this always happen to ME?” with a level of frustration wholly inappropriate to the situation, yet I find myself honestly close to tears.

I’m hoping that by letting this rant out into cyberspace, I might somehow be freed of this intense frustration that is truly ruining my day. I hope?

ETA: IT’S FIXED, IT’S FIXED! THE LIBRARY CAME THROUGH! OH HAPPINESS AND JOY!

I’m big on Christmas usually, not so much in the Santa “ho ho ho” way and certainly not in a religious way, but there’s a very special kind of joy for me in warm people, beautiful music, and pretty lights that makes me treasure this time of year. Usually. I guess I’m just not feeling it this year and I have this horrible fear that somehow it might be dead for me forever. I hope not. I don’t know. Maybe I expect too much from adult life.

Perhaps more irksome than all of this is that the stress of work and everything else has killed my ability to focus on the work I want to be doing most. The last week has been appallingly unproductive and I fear there’s more of that to come.

In better news, The Blizzard of 2009 barely touched us here in western MA which means little to no snow shoveling! This probably seems like a small blessing, but honestly it feels huge. Thank you, weather!

Let’s hope I can catch some holiday cheer over the next few days. Got any to spare?

After a day like today I realize what I really miss in my life is old friends. This is not in any way a reflection on new friends; seriously, I love you all. What I miss, though, is that level of familiarity and mutual history that makes all explanation unnecessary. You know what I mean. As Ani Difranco once said, “There’s nothing like looking at your own history in the faces of your friends.” There’s a level of comfort to be found in people who know you–all your mistakes, fears, triumphs, dreams–and have known you so long they almost know you better than you know yourself. It’s been a long time since I had those kinds of friends around me and when I’m feeling especially weary as I do now, that is what I crave.

I haven’t been back to my real hometown since my junior year of college when my parents moved to New York City, but fortunately a large number of my hometown friends moved to New York too, so between them and some especially dear friends I met during those years (EA, Fish, I’m looking at you) I suppose it is New York that became my new hometown, filled with nearly as much history as good ol’ Saginaw, MI. I don’t miss places much. I’m a nomad at heart and I rarely get truly attached. People, though… people I miss.

This day will pass and I’ll somehow find my energy again. Meanwhile, I’ll spend the evening trying to get some work done and missing old friends. I hope you’re all well out there.

Please update your bookmarks and RSS feeds, and feel free to spread the word!

Note: This blog will return to its origins as a personal blog. Stay tuned!

Buy This Book

Falling victim to a double-cross, Envy tracks down Dr. Marcoh, only to walk into a trap that ultimately reduces him to his original, pre-humanoid form. “I know more about making philosopher’s stones than anyone else in the country,” says Dr. Marcoh, hanging mangled and bloody from Envy’s horrific tongue. “But because I know how to make them, I also know how to destroy them!” Afterwards, Scar entreats May to take the now-powerless Envy back to her country for study on immortality, though Envy does what he must to increase his chances of survival. Al, Winry, and the others then head out to the city of Lior, where Al is reunited with Rose as well as his father, Hoenheim, who finally shares the truth about himself, including a piece of information vital to the upcoming conflict. Meanwhile, Major General Briggs discovers the terrifying truth hidden in the bowels of Central City, and Ed–now recovered from his injuries–fails utterly to track down Al’s whereabouts, though he does encounter another long-lost companion with whom he forges an unlikely alliance.

This volume feels a bit like the calm before the storm. After the constant barrage of earth-shattering revelations contained in the past few volumes, Arakawa steps back to focus on relationships, but with an uneasy, anticipatory feel running like a strong current through each chapter. Not that this volume is lacking in new information, by any means. Both Briggs’ discovery and Hoenheim’s confession provide new insight into the homunculus’ ultimate plan, but these revelations seem intended to inform the characters rather than the reader, maintaining the story’s momentum at a strong, tense simmer, preparing itself to rise to a boil. That there is still a long way go to seems obvious, but during the volume’s final chapter, as a piece of key information spreads across Amestris from character to character, it feels very much like a final call to arms.

May’s story here is particularly poignant. Having become so much a part of the personal quests of some of the Amestrian characters (Scar’s and Al’s, in particular), her deep hurt in being urged to return home, even for the sake of her own people, is obvious and extremely touching. Arakawa emphasizes this by drawing her from angles which make her appear especially small, vulnerable, and occasionally off-kilter. With similar effectiveness, Arakawa also uses angles to help distinguish between the wildly erratic variations in the mental state of Greed, who is caught in an internal struggle between himself and Lin, whose memories still lurk within.

As a reader, the ground is always shaky whenever Ed and Al are apart from each other, adding to the mounting tension in this volume. Though it seems like the end must surely be near, this is a series that has never lost its momentum regardless of length, which makes me feel extremely reluctant to ever let it go. Fortunately I don’t have to just yet.

For long-time readers of the series, volume twenty provides further insight into characters both loved and hated, and continues to play out the complex plot so powerfully conceived from the series’ first volume. For everyone else, the time to start reading is now.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Review by Megan M.

Buy This Book

This book continued the Roberta arc that began in the previous volume. I think it says much for this series that combat maids, typically considered to be a form of fanservice, are interesting, dramatic, badass, and very, very angsty. Well, one is angsty. I’m sure Fabiola will grow into it in time.

The beginning of the volume, despite actually featuring the main cast very prominently, is devoted to explaining why Roberta has returned to Roanapur planning to begin a war and who Fabiola (the younger, less violent, combat maid who appeared in volume 6) is. I admit I would happily read a book about Garcia Lovelace and his maids, especially if his other maids (who Fabiola claims aren’t trained for combat, but who knows?) are half as fun as Fabiola and Roberta are. The volume then spirals into Rock and (surprisingly) Benny, deciding to help Garcia and Fabiola look for Roberta, despite the fact that this is simply not the strength of either character.

I’m of two minds about Roberta’s storyline. Thematically and for the character I love it, right down to her hallucinations, her tenuous connection to reality, and her careful plotting to sink the entire town into a full scale war. On the other hand, her rampage (and possibly some of her current instability) seems to be fueled by misuse of Ritalin, about which there are already so many misconceptions that I can’t help but automatically cringe at its use here.

The volume also features an interesting conversation between Rock and Revy (much of which Revy spends naked, out of Rock’s sight) in which typical allegories are reversed, and Rock compares Revy to a gun and himself to a bullet that’s a useless lump of lead unless she fires him. In truth, far too many interpretations could be read into that scene. Revy actually has comparatively little page time in this volume, but what there is is very interesting and highlights how lost she is. I’m particularly fond of her reactions to Fabiola, who is physically able to withstand the harsh lifestyle of the Black Lagoon’s world but is still very young and innocent.

Little is seen of the supporting cast outside of Chang, who is assisting Garcia (I particularly missed Shenhua, who is my favorite character), but Eda’s brief appearance goes a long way towards explaining her role in Roanapur and her association with the church. It also seems to make her a little older than I had thought, as I had pegged Eda and Revy as being about the same age. I also wonder how much of it Revy knows and how she’ll react if she doesn’t know much.

This is a very solid addition to an already strong series, and according to the author’s note, the storyline it sets into full gear will impact the series for some time.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

Buy This Book

In the aftermath of the first volume’s attack by the enemy clan Grey Wolves, Miharu and his companions recover in care of the Fuuma, many of whom were lost in the conflict. With the Banten shinobi having no official leader, Kotarou Fuuma, leader of his clan, assumes control and assigns teacher Kumohira and his young charges to retrieve (or steal, if necessary) the forbidden arts belonging to each of the other remaining clans. Though revelations about the motives and methods of the Fuuma leave Miharu even less sure of who to trust, he eventually finds himself feeling some sense of responsibility and even friendship towards would-be samurai Ramei and classmate Koichi. This volume’s major drama, however, is left for its final chapter, in which Miharu is offered alliance by an extremely unlikely source.

After the suspense and high action of this series’ first volume, the second begins slowly, churning out additional exposition without quite enough momentum to sustain it. Fortunately, this volume’s final chapter is thrilling enough to make up for early shortcomings, bringing real tension back into the story as well as highlighting the complexity and pathos behind Miharu’s carefully practiced apathy.

This volume takes pains to deepen the backstories for much of the series’ supporting cast, though most of these characters remain weak in comparison to the story’s most compelling characters–Miharu and deadly human weapon Yoite. Both of these characters possess potentially lethal abilities that endanger their own lives in one way or another, and it is fascinating and sad to witness the blatant sense of entitlement their respective shinobi clans appear to feel regarding their powers. That the clans have gravely overestimated their ability to control these two boys seems obvious, but it is yet unclear just how dearly this miscalculation might cost them or the boys themselves.

Though pacing is a weakness in this volume, even the least urgent chapters succeed in terms of dramatic content, thanks to Kamatani’s frequent use of close-ups and full-page images which give just the right weight to exactly the right moments. That a sense of stillness would be one of the greatest strengths of a manga that is ostensibly intended as an action series may sound a bit strange, but that is absolutely the case here. This quality plays a great part in creating the dark, moody atmosphere of the series, which remains one of my favorite aspects of it overall.

With its complex anti-hero and melancholy feel, Nabari No Ou’s second volume ultimately overcomes its somewhat uninspired early chapters to maintain its position as my favorite new shonen series so far this year.

Review copy provided by the publisher.

I had a great time at the convention and I have a lot to say about it, so stay tuned!