How To Share Bookmarked Pages For Popular Fan-Translated Books?

I just finished reading 'The Frost Forest' last week, and I was surprised by how substantial it felt. The paperback edition I got has a solid 384 pages, which makes it a satisfyingly chunky read without being overwhelming. What's interesting is that the font size is slightly larger than average, so the page count doesn't tell the whole story - the actual word count might be comparable to a 300-page novel with standard formatting. The hardcover version apparently runs about 20 pages shorter due to different typesetting. For anyone looking to pick it up, I'd say the length is perfect for a weekend read - long enough to immerse yourself in that icy world, but concise enough that the pacing never drags.

Color pages for 'Attack on Titan' do exist, but whether you can get the official ones where you live is a bit of a patchwork. When the manga was serialized in the Japanese magazine, a number of chapters ran with color pages and full-color spreads — that's how lots of manga roll. Those color pages were often preserved in special Japanese editions, tankoubon special prints, or artbooks, but standard collected volumes tend to be mostly greyscale. Over the years Kodansha and regional licensors have selectively restored or released those colored pages in different formats: some digital editions include the original magazine color pages, deluxe box sets or special prints sometimes include color inserts, and official artbooks compile high-quality color illustrations. From my hunting around online stores and my own shelf, the trick is that availability depends on the edition and the territory. If you buy Japanese special editions or official artbooks from Japan, you’ll almost certainly get the color work. For English readers, certain digital releases and deluxe volumes from Kodansha’s overseas branches have included colored pages, but not every print run worldwide gets them. So you might find official color pages in your country if the local publisher included them, or you might have to seek out an import or a digital version that specifically advertises restored colors. If you care about owning official color pages, check for words like ‘color pages restored’, ‘special edition’, or look at artbook releases from the publisher rather than assuming every tankobon will have them. Personally, tracking down a few of the colored spreads in legitimate artbooks made me appreciate Hajime Isayama’s palette choices even more — they’re gorgeous when you can see them in full color.

I've hunted down prints of 'Attack on Titan' for years, so I'll break this down the way I wish someone had for me back when I was building my wall of posters. Yes — you can buy colored pages and high-quality prints related to 'Attack on Titan', but how easily you find them depends on whether you want officially licensed art or fan-made pieces. Official routes are your safest bet: publishers and licensed retailers sometimes release artbooks, poster sets, or limited-edition prints that collect colored pages, promotional illustrations, and cover art. Look for releases from the publisher or the official store tied to the franchise — those are the ones that won't leave you feeling guilty about copyrights. There are also event-exclusive prints sold at conventions or collaboration shops. If you're after original magazine color pages (the actual physical pages that ran in a magazine), those are rare and occasionally show up on auction sites or through specialized collectors. They can be expensive and often need a proxy buyer if the seller is in Japan. For most fans, buying a high-quality licensed print or an artbook reproduction is the practical route. Personally, I snagged a lithograph of one of the color spreads and framed it — it makes the room feel like a tiny gallery and every time I walk by I think about how much power a single illustration can hold.

Manga color work is kind of a backstage tapestry — lively, collaborative, and not always credited in a big way. For 'Attack on Titan', the colored pages you saw in magazines were sometimes colored by Hajime Isayama himself (he’s done a number of colored illustrations and covers over the years), but a lot of the time the actual magazine spreads were handled by the publisher’s coloring staff or Isayama’s studio/assistants. Japanese magazines often have an in-house team that takes the black-and-white line art and prepares a print-ready color version, especially for tight weekly or monthly schedules. I used to keep stacks of old issues and one pattern popped up: special feature pages or commemorative pieces were more likely to carry the creator’s personal coloring, while regular chapter color pages tended to list a small credit like ‘coloring: editorial’ or didn’t credit an individual at all. If you dig into collected artbooks and author collabs, you’ll see more pieces explicitly labeled as Isayama’s colored work. So if you loved the mood of a specific spread, it might be Isayama’s personal palette—or the magazine’s colorist interpreting his lines. Either way, those magazine colors added so much atmosphere; they felt cinematic, which is part of why I kept them.

I'm still a little giddy thinking about how manga publishing works, so here's the long, nerdy take: when 'Attack on Titan' chapters ran in the magazine they often had color pages, but those magazine color pages haven't been treated uniformly across every collected edition. In general publishing practice, serialized color pages sometimes get converted to grayscale for the first tankobon run to save costs, or they're reproduced as separate color inserts on glossy paper. For 'Attack on Titan' specifically, a bunch of the original magazine color pages were reproduced in collected volumes and special releases, but there was never one single guaranteed policy that every reprint would restore every color page. What that means in practice is: standard printings of the Japanese tankobon sometimes include color pages (especially early pressings), sometimes not; later reprints may or may not restore them depending on the edition. Deluxe or “complete” editions, artbooks, and certain omnibus formats are the most likely places to find restored color pages and extra color art. Kodansha also collected many color illustrations into artbooks and special guides, which is a safer bet if you want full-color material. Personally, I hunt down the special editions and artbooks when I want the prettiest spreads — they feel like tiny treasures compared to plain B/W volumes.

Huge book alert: I’m the kind of person who judges my backpacks by whether they can swallow 'Oathbringer' without losing a shoulder strap. The US hardcover clocks in at about 1,248 pages, which is the number most folks quote and what you’ll usually see on the dust jacket. Different printings and international editions can shave off or add a few pages — some paperback and UK editions list slightly different page counts around the low 1,200s — but 1,248 is a safe headline figure. If you’re asking about the audiobook, the unabridged production narrated by Michael Kramer and Kate Reading runs roughly 45 hours and 30 minutes. It’s a commitment, but it’s also the kind of book where the runtime feels earned: big set pieces, long character arcs, and a ton of added warmth from the narrators. For travel or long commutes I’d recommend listening at 1.1–1.25x if you want to shave time without losing the performances. Personally, I loved splitting it into sessions tied to major parts — it made the heft manageable and gave space to process the revelations afterward.

The Nightingale, a historical fiction novel by Kristin Hannah, contains a total of 564 pages in its hardcover edition. Published by St. Martin's Press in 2015, the novel has gained acclaim for its compelling narrative, which follows the lives of two sisters, Vianne and Isabelle, during World War II in Nazi-occupied France. The book employs a frame story device, beginning with the recollections of an elderly woman in 1995, while the main action unfolds in a third-person perspective. This structure, combined with its rich character development and vivid historical context, has contributed to its status as a bestseller, selling over 4.5 million copies worldwide and being translated into 45 languages. The depth and emotional resonance of the story, along with its exploration of themes such as resilience and sacrifice, have made it a significant work in contemporary historical fiction.

I picked up 'Spy x Family' vol 1 and geeked out over the little extras it tucks in alongside the main story. The volume reproduces the original color pages that ran in serialization, which is always a treat because the splash art pops off the page more than in black-and-white. After the last chapter there’s a handful of omake panels—short, gag-style comics that play off the family dynamics: Anya being adorable and mischievous, Loid juggling spy-stuff and fake-dad duties, Yor’s awkward attempts at normal life, and even Bond getting a moment to shine. Beyond the comedy strips, the volume also includes author notes, some sketchbook-style character designs and rough concept art, plus a short author afterword that gives a little behind-the-scenes flavor. Those bits don’t change the plot, but they make the Forger family feel lived-in, and I always flip back to the sketches when I want to see how the characters evolved. It left me smiling and wanting volume two right away.