Do Guidebooks List Filming Locations For Novel Adaptations?

Wow, the whole debate over Eren's height in the guidebooks is way more interesting than you'd expect — and I get why fans argue about it nonstop. In the earliest official profiles tied to 'Attack on Titan', Eren is commonly listed around 170 cm during the time-skip-free teenage period, and later materials (post-time-skip/adult versions) place him noticeably taller — commonly cited around 183 cm as an adult. Those numbers come from officially released profile sheets and guidebook pages that the creator or publishing team provided, so they carry weight. That said, those guidebook heights are official but not infallible. Art style shifts, perspective in panels, and adaptation choices in the anime can make him look shorter or taller relative to other characters. Sometimes different guidebooks or booklet reprints tweak numbers, and there are occasional contradictions between manga notes, drama CD booklets, and TV credits. Also remember rounding: profiles use whole centimeters, so a listed 170 cm might actually have been, say, 169.4 cm in the creator's head. Titan form scale is another layer — Eren's Attack Titan has its own official meter height, but translating Titan scale back to human proportions in artwork isn't always precise. So I treat guidebook heights as the most reliable baseline — the 'official' stats to cite — but with a little wiggle room. If I'm doing head-canon, plotting out cosplay proportions, or debating who would tower over whom in a crossover, I let visual panels and anime scenes influence my sense of scale more than rigid numbers. Either way, I love how these small details spark big conversations, and that’s half the fun for me.

Oh, I get excited about this stuff — yes, many guidebooks do include maps and walking routes for manga settings, and they can be pure gold for wandering fans. When I first dug into one of these guides, it wasn't just a map with a red dot on it; it had street-level sketches, train line tips, and little markers for the exact cafe or intersection a scene used. Some guides are photo-heavy, side-by-side images from a manga page and the real-life location, which makes it feel like a scavenger hunt. Others go deeper and give suggested walking loops, estimated times, and public-transit instructions so you can hit three spots in an afternoon. Beyond printed books, publishers sometimes bundle downloadable maps or QR codes that open map apps with pins already placed. There are also local walking tours run by fans or small agencies that follow those guidebook routes, and they often add fun anecdotes about the creators or filming, seasonal differences, and etiquette tips for respectful photography. If you love combining map-based exploration with a story's world, these guides are a delightful bridge between page and pavement.

I get excited every time I see a new guidebook hit my feed, because yes—many of them do include author interviews and extras, but it really depends on the type and edition. Art books and ‘making of’ volumes often go the extra mile: you’ll find creator interviews, concept sketches, commentary on design choices, and sometimes essays by editors or scholars. I own a few that even have fold-out maps, timeline spreads, and character dossiers that feel like tiny treasure chests. On the other hand, slim companion guides or basic strategy guides might skip long interviews and stick to stats, walkthroughs, or episode summaries. Limited or anniversary editions are where the good stuff usually lives—publishers will throw in interviews, behind-the-scenes photos, and sometimes postcards or posters. If you want interviews specifically, look for keywords like ‘interview’, ‘afterword’, ‘commentary’, or ‘making of’ in the table of contents or product descriptions. My usual habit is to check previews on retailer sites or publisher pages before buying. Fan forums and unboxing videos are lifesavers too—people point out whether the translated editions trimmed content or kept everything intact. It’s a little bit hunter’s fun and a lot of satisfying reading when you finally crack one open.

Guidebooks handle canon and fan-made stuff in an almost librarian-like way, but written for fans rather than academics. I usually see them split the material up very deliberately: there will be an official canon section that lists episodes, issues, novels, and creator statements in order, often with dates and source citations. Then there’s a separate area for tie-ins or expanded-universe works that the publisher or creators have marked as secondary or non-canonical. Visual cues—icons, headers like 'Official Continuity' or 'Alternate Timeline', and footnotes—help signal what the editors consider authoritative. I’ve used one of those pocket companions at a con to settle a heated debate about a plot hole, and the way the guidebook flagged a creator interview as the deciding citation felt satisfying. Fanfiction almost never appears in the canon columns, but some guides do honour popular fanon in a different tone: a 'Fan Traditions' sidebar, a community glossary, or a short section acknowledging influential fan interpretations. If you’re trying to figure out what to accept as 'real' inside a fictional world, check the preface for the publisher’s canonicity policy, then follow the in-text citations and interviews listed there.

I still get a silly thrill when a map in a travel guide points me to a tiny shop that sells official tees from shows I love. Guidebooks—especially ones tied to a city or a franchise—can be surprisingly useful for tracking down merchandise from TV series. A travel guide will usually list flagship stores, museum shops, and specialty boutiques by neighborhood, while a franchise guidebook or coffee-table tie-in (like the ones for 'Doctor Who') often includes official store links, licensing notes, and where particular props or replicas have been sold in the past. That said, they’re not a silver bullet. Printed guides age, pop-up stores disappear, and limited-run drops sell out fast. My trick is to use a guidebook to narrow down districts and store names, then call ahead, check the shop’s Instagram, and set alerts on marketplace apps. For big splurges—collector's items, signed pieces—guidebooks give good provenance clues, but I always cross-check current availability online. Hunting merch is half the fun anyway; a guidebook just gives you promising trails to follow.

I've tried extracting text from anime guidebooks before, and it's a mixed bag. Some PDFs of official guidebooks, like those for 'Attack on Titan' or 'Demon Slayer', are actually just scanned images of the pages. No amount of fancy PDF editors can pull text from those unless you use OCR (optical character recognition) software, which often messes up Japanese characters or stylized fonts. It's frustrating when you're trying to quote a cool fact about a character's backstory and the software spits out gibberish. But some newer digital guidebooks, especially those sold on platforms like BookWalker or Kindle, have proper embedded text layers. Those work like a dream—you can highlight, copy, and even search for specific terms. I remember grabbing stats from 'Jujutsu Kaisen' character profiles this way for a forum post. The key is checking if the PDF was born digital or is just a glorified photo album of physical pages. Always test with a sample page before buying if text extraction matters to you.

I get a real thrill hunting down bookstores that showed up on the big screen, and over the years I’ve learned which guidebooks actually help. If you want mainstream, dependable picks that often flag film connections, I reach for 'Lonely Planet'—their city guides frequently call out notable shops, and sometimes add a line if a place was used in a movie. 'DK Eyewitness' is another go-to because of the photos and cultural-highlight boxes; they’ll often include an iconic bookshop in a neighborhood walking route, which is handy if you’re trying to recreate a scene. For quirkier or cinematic-specific intel I consult 'Atlas Obscura' (the book and site) and 'Time Out' city guides. 'Atlas Obscura' loves odd, photogenic spots and will explicitly note if a bookshop has been a filming location. 'Time Out' sometimes runs local features about film locations and the independent bookstores that doubled for on-screen sets. Between those, plus local tourism sites and film-location pages, I usually have more than enough to plan a bookstore crawl that feels like stepping into a film.

I get a little giddy whenever I crack open a proper guidebook — there’s something about printed pages that feels like a backstage pass. Guidebooks absolutely can spill production-company trivia: credits that don’t show up in streaming metadata, art direction notes, original character sketches, and timelines that reveal who joined or left mid-project. I’ve found name lists, role shifts, and even tiny anecdotes about scheduling crunches in volumes like 'The Art of Spirited Away' or studio-published compendiums. Those bits of context often explain why an episode’s tone shifts or why a particular visual motif appears. Beyond the juicy bits, guidebooks sometimes include official press statements, marketing strategies, and co-production acknowledgments that shed light on financing and distribution. That means you can learn whether an overseas partner pulled some resources, if a sub-studio handled animation, or how merchandising plans affected design choices. If you love tracing how a show evolved from pitch to release, guidebooks are one of the best maps — just pair them with interviews and credits for the full picture.