Once upon a time, Sam Pinansky, having accumulated related experience in localizing anime, launched a project to bring light novels to Western audience. This project is called J-Novel Club. Basically what he did was realize there was a light-novel-shaped hole in the Western market and, backed by an army of excellent translators and editors, he asked the Japanese publishers for some licences.
J-Novel Club is basically a subscription service. At the cost of as little/much as $4.50 per month, you get to see chapters as they come out. Eventually they get replaced by new chapters and at the end of the volume an ebook gets published. You can read more about Sam and the project on their About page (linked above).
When I first discovered the site 1.5 years ago, there was a total of six titles, I think. I read a bit here and there, bought the subscription for a couple of months to try it out, and ultimately got tired of the buggy site. It’s that bad. Plus there were like two titles I was at least mildly interested in.
I came back a year later. Right now there are 40 titles, including Mari Okada’s From Truant to Anime Screenwriter, which I am very much interested in. But the site is still buggy and I don’t care for 38 out of the forty light novel series. Bottom line…
Yes, 38 out of forty, meaning there was another light novel that seemed interesting—My Little Sister Can Read Kanji. Continue reading
You might understand why I’m quoting this tomorrow, when I publish a review of this one AMV…
You’re a projectionist and you’re tired and angry, but mostly you’re bored so you start by taking a single frame of pornography collected by some other projectionist that you find stashed away in the booth, and you splice this frame of a lunging red penis or a yawning wet vagina closeup into another feature movie.
This is one of those pet adventures, when the dog and cat are left behind by a traveling family and must find their way home. In reel three, just after the dog and cat, who have human voices and talk to each other, have eaten out of a garbage can, there’s the flash of an erection.
Tyler does this.
A single frame in a movie is on the screen for one-sixtieth of a second. Divide a second into sixty equal parts. That’s how long the erection is. Towering four stories tall over the popcorn auditorium, slippery red and terrible, and no one sees it.
from the third chapter of Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk
Fight Club is a renowned piece of literature for readers with a rather strong stomach. If you’re up to that, I highly recommend it. The movie isn’t half-bad either and is pretty loyal to the original. I mean it. Go read/watch it.
I was reading the third episodical review of Sasami-san@Ganbaranai over at the glorio blog, when its author, Aquagaze, pointed out something straight out of a literary theory textbook. As my eyes flew about the article dripping with discontent, it kept pulling them and my attention to itself.
One must not put a loaded rifle on the stage if no one is thinking of firing it.
A term originally used by Anton Pavlovich Chekhov in his correspondence and discourse with other famous men of the era means that if you as an author, introduce an object onto the scene it should come to it being used. Continue reading