Hobonichi 2017

We came back from a trip to Buenos Aires last night to the sight of our doorman waving the lemon-yellow Hobonichi envelope at us. What a delight! Thank you sooooo much for shipping worldwide, Hobo :)

This was going to be a very short post, just to show you next year’s Weeks in linen isn’t half bad (thankfully not as bland as I thought – there’s a bit more texture to it), but I notice several changes in the Planner [spoiler alert]:

1. There’s a new 2-page spread at the front, just before the January pages start. And the planner has lost the last two weeks of December leading up to the new year, as well as the first week of January 2018; it starts right on January 1st and ends on December 31st. No half pages.

2. The monthly intro pages are ruled more loosely this time (the one on the left is for 2017).

3. And I see that they’ve done away with the national holiday markings in red. Good riddance – I appreciate the additional space.

I look forward to seeing everybody else’s! :)


Hobonichi Season

Has everyone decided on what to get from the Hobonichi Store? I am not planning to get any covers or accessories this year, only the planner (in English) and the Weeks (I know, I wanted to try something different but I haven’t managed to find an alternative). I only have to decide whether I want the Weeks in rustic linen or in the French baguette pattern ☺

That said, I thought I would show some highlights from the past two years of Hobonichi journalling. As you may already know, I am not in the least artistic, and the biggest challenge for me is inserting visually interesting “rest stops” in between pages and pages of text without embarrassing myself. I’ve tried taping, drawing, calligraphy, etc., but my most successful attempts so far involve drawing maps. This has a number of points in its favor: you get to use all your tools, pencil, pen and colored pencil; you actually learn something during the process; and it stays relevant and informative even years afterwards.

This was my first attempt at map-drawing; it was just too small and I had to draw additional area enlargements. By the way has anyone read Dark Star Safari by Paul Theroux or Don’t Let’s Go to the Dogs Tonight by Alexandra Fuller? The former comes recommended by Haruki Murakami (he’s friends with Theroux), and the latter is just as good.

And then we moved to South America. In order to sort out the muddled heap of countries in my head, I again resorted to maps. Brazil is reeeally big; I couldn’t get it to fit on the page 😑.  One disadvantage of the onionskin Tomoe River paper is that you have to be very careful with erasing, and even then you get small tears from time to time (witness the grey masking tape over the Amazon).

This map of Uruguay is the only time I used tracing paper, because a map of just the right size happened to be printed on the back flap of a school notebook. Departmental boundaries were done by visual approximation, as with all the other maps, and thus are inexact.

You don’t always have to draw countries; if you’re in love with your neighborhood you can map out its streets too, especially if you know you’re going to leave someday and will miss it, like I do. Also there’s nothing like map-drawing to put your factual knowledge to the test: I found out that I had the order of some shops wrong when I checked some days later.

And cartoons go very well of course with the overall Hobo vibe. I only regret that I had to convert all my subscriptions to digital editions and therefore have almost no material to snip out stuff from now.

I also found a way to use up the box of Midori roll stickers I was hoarding. I use it like a ticket stub for any Netflix movie I watched.

And if there are still any blank pages left over even after all that, you can always engage a guest artist!

Nanami Seven Seas Writer Notebook

The “Writer” notebook that the online shop Nanami sells under their Seven Seas brand is already in its fourth edition and a lot has been written about it already, so I will only note for the purposes of this review that it is a solid 480-page block of Tomoe River paper, stitched and bound in a soft cover, that comes in its own casing. I liked it enough to buy again. I’m a bit intimidated by thick bound journals – I usually go for spiral-bound notebooks that you can tear pages off of – but the Writer has worked beautifully for me as a transcribing notebook (more on this below). 

The thick stack of onionskin paper opens completely flat, and the layers form a cushion beneath the fountain pen nib; I really feel that Tomoe River paper looks and feels its best at volumes like this (as with the Hobonichi planner). When I first started the notebook I was concerned about the translucency, especially since the ruled lines were sometimes misaligned front and back and you could see it. So for the first half of the notebook I only wrote on the front, but I got over that later on (which was fortunate, because the back side was actually smoother and more pleasant to write on).

The only downside to this notebook is that the shipping costs are prohibitive when ordering from outside the U.S. Paper is heavy, and it usually costs at least as much as the notebook itself to ship, if not more, so it takes a lot of commitment. But on the plus side, the Writer has a lot of pages so I am all set for the next couple of years :)

(Oh, one more shortcoming is that you sometimes find creases inside around the stitching. It’s probably because of the sheer volume of paper being folded and pressed together, but I’ve learned to forgive this.)

This is my first try at uploading a video and the resolution doesn’t seem that great… but hopefully my video skills will improve. I really had fun writing in this notebook! It’s not a diary but a receptacle for literary quotes and passages I wanted to save from online sources and books borrowed from the library. In Korea students of literature routinely transcribe works of their favorite authors, regardless of whether you own the book or not. The act of transcribing is seen as a sort of meditative effort to understand the oeuvre better. I wonder if similar practices exist in the West?

My First Field Note (And Thoughts on Notebook Sizes)


Last week I finally got to join the legions of Field Notes users, thanks to a kind friend. After all this time! I first encountered the bewildering FN phenomenon upon joining the blogosphere, and while I did see a few specimens in my local stationery store in Montreal, I never got around to buying them for myself. Now that I have one in my hands, I find myself struck above all not by its design or paper quality, but by its dimensions. I’ve never seen a notebook in this particular size before. And I’ve been thinking about why this should throw me as much as it does, when notebooks are free to come in all shapes and sizes.

For starters, a Field Note is really small. And thin. And tallish, considering its other dimensions. It says 48 pages, but that means 24 sheets, or, rather, twelve sheets folded and stapled in the middle. I’ve never seen a notebook that cries out this loudly to be put in a checkered flannel shirt pocket; I find the shape very masculine. Women’s clothing don’t usually have the kind of pockets to store these in, and if carried around in purses or bags, they would crease right away. This notebook confounds my Asian sensibilities – too thin and undetachable to be a memopad, too small and vertically long to be a notebook. Uncategorizable.

I’ve set the Field Note next to some other small notebooks/memopads I have: the Kokuyo Campus Notebook No. 5 (48 pages), a Life Noble Memo Pad (B7, 100 sheets), and another Life notebook (N15b, 40 sheets). In this size, products I’m familiar with usually come with more sheets that tend to be more square and glued together. It’s a distinct advantage of FN’s that the stapled pages lie flat, allowing the user to make the most of the small page. But it has too few pages compared to other premium-quality notebooks of its size; also, while Japanese brands tend to concentrate more on the quality of paper inside, Field Notes is all about design. And the design is undeniably well done; it’s another example of the best kind of Western design, that pulls together a seemingly simple combination of color, texture, and typeface, and achieves something very clean and classic.


If I were resident in the U.S., I think I would have tried a subscription if only for the pleasure of being dazzled every season by its covers, but once abroad the cost becomes prohibitive. (BTW I wonder how thick the pages are, in terms of grams per square meter?) And I already have some notebooks too pretty to use, similarly American-made: Rifle Paper notebooks. I am sure my Field Notes would suffer the same fate if I ever signed up for them…


Thinking about sizes helped me clarify a problem I had for a long time with my Hobonichi Weeks but couldn’t put my finger on up till now. The Weeks is thin, light, portable, and employs this wonderful Tomoe River paper, and I haven’t had any problems using it. However, for some reason, I like it less than my original Hobonichi Techo (planner), and am thinking all the time about what weekly I can replace it with next year. Why? I realized that its dimensions reminded me (however subliminally) of the basic “business diary” so ubiquitous back home and in Japan. There are two popular formats for “business” diaries: one is in a weekly format, thin, vertically long and has gilded pages, and the other is a larger and much thicker page-per-day diary. Both kinds are produced with vinyl or synthetic leather covers in drab brown or black, and are often issued to employees by corporations at the end of the year. When I was writing up this post I asked my husband whether he had a company-issue diary, and of course he did (seen below next to my Weeks). The actual sizes vary but the general dimensions remain strikingly similar (both kinds of diaries can be seen in this size chart at Takahashi Shoten, a Japanese publisher).



Oh, that dreadfully kitschy gilding! I will never be able to enjoy Smythson’s or any other gilded notebook on its own merits :(

I guess the Hobonichi people tried to take the business edge off the Weeks by making it slightly larger and roomier (mindful of the large number of female Techo users maybe?). It’s officially called “wallet size” (and it does match the size of my wallet), but it smacks of crumpled suits and Samsonite document bags all the same. The Nikkei starts its review of the Weeks with the sentence, “The business diary that Hobonichi, with its philosophy of mixing work and leisure, came up with is in a left-sided weekly format…” So for me, long and thin equals “official” and “business”, whereas more square formats signal “laid-back”, “relaxed”, and “private”.

I think the size factor also underlies the almost universal affection for the original Hobonichi Planner. It’s a standard A6, 105mm-by-148mm format, but more importantly, this is exactly the size of Japanese pocket books (bunkobon). Non-Japanese users of the Techo don’t seem to grasp the full significance of this size even when told of it, because in the States, “pocket-sized” paperbacks actually come in several different sizes (all larger than the standard Japanese one) and use coarser paper which make for a thicker volume. All in all, American paperbacks don’t look or feel much like notebooks. However, Japanese paperbacks are tailored to a much more uniform size across publishers, use smoother, thinner paper (and are therefore more compact), and more popular in their home country. The bunkobon is an immediately recognizable and beloved format. In Japanese bookstores, the bunkobon shelves are allotted by publisher, and the row upon row of precisely matched, color-coded small books can be a sight to behold.

Here is a sample row of bunkobon (in the middle), with regular hardcovers on the left.


The bunkobon is 1/4 of an A4-sized sheet; top left is a collection of essays by Haruki Murakami, top right is the Hobonichi Planner, bottom left is a Life Premium notebook, and bottom right is a Midori Cotton MD notebook.

Given this background, I am naturally interested in other A6-sized notebooks, such as these Kokuyo “Buncobon” notebooks that JetPens is offering (but I’m not ordering them, as shipping alone costs $47!). Muji seems to make some out of recycled paper too. It was interesting to read the comments, though, for the former. People seem to dislike the soft covers, but in my opinion the soft cover is precisely what gives the notebooks their bunkobon flavor; more durable covers should be found in other, mostly Western brands, such as the Quo Vadis Habana notebooks. The memories of a soft, pliable, and light book are what give these Japanese notebooks their particular appeal.

A New Planner


A new planner is exciting for so many reasons. A whole year, as yet unsullied, no mistakes, regrets or embarrassments – at least not yet. Who knows what the future will bring? We are up for a transfer next year, but we do not yet know where we will be going next. Holland was a strong candidate until recently, but due to unforeseen circumstances, we are back to square one. I wonder just where I’ll be writing in this journal next, if not from a canalside café ;)

I did end up getting a leather cover for my Hobonichi, one of the simplest I could find. It’s from Midori and designed to fit their own slightly slimmer MD notebooks, so the fit is a bit tight. I had to press it down with a big book for a couple of weeks (my son’s French dictionary helped). Midori says you have to tan it in sunlight for 2-3 weeks before using it in order to let the leather develop a sort of patina that will protect it against water and dirt (the leather is sold completely untreated “so that the user can enjoy the mellowing of the leather himself/herself to the utmost”), so I was doing that with precious little to show for it, but then I learned that the tanning was a much, much longer, gradual process, so I’m just using it as is. The leather is a warm peachy beige and wonderfully soft to the touch. I wish it could stay like this forever!



Hobonichi Planner 2016 (Daily + Weekly)

My Hobo for next year arrived! I’m not a big fan of social media in general, but I have to say it is convenient for keeping track of new products and sales dates. So, although I wasn’t in any hurry (I was passing on the covers this year), I ended up placing my order on the day they went on sale, just to be done with the whole thing.


The box this year is a pretty shade of light turquoise.

The English-language planner is its usual self (it now has a serial number at the end but is otherwise unchanged in the most important aspects), and as it has been featured ad nauseam in the blogosphere (including my post) I will skip this and concentrate on the Weeks instead.


The standard weekly spread; it is available in the Japanese edition only and shows all the Japanese holidays in red. The only thing I’m worried about is whether there’s going to be enough space to paste things on in the right-hand page.


It has a few additional lines for memos at the bottom of the week. I agree with many out there who think the quotes just take up space, but the publisher seems to think these are an integral part of the Hobonichi so they probably won’t be going away anytime soon.


One surprise was the generous amount of free notepaper added on at the end. 71 pages – almost one-third of the book! The format is somewhat like the IDEA Notebooks I wrote about earlier, only the Hobonichi is narrower.


The good-to-know general info pages at the end feature the seasonal festivities associated with the lunar calendar, and year charts (for lack of a better term). The latter, which is actually an age-calculation chart, is especially useful because Japan still uses this antiquated year-numbering system based on the Emperor’s reign (for instance, 2015 is Heisei 27, i.e. the 27th year of the reign of Emperor Akihito), and surprisingly for a modern Westernized nation, often does not bother to note the corresponding year based on the Christian calendar. This is especially frustrating when you’re trying to figure out when a book was published and the end pages only say Showa or Heisei something. The chart also notes which animal on the Chinese zodiac is associated with that year. Saves you some googling.



The Weeks comes with a small pocket you can stick on to the back cover, plus a railway map of several major cities. The Tokyo rail map is impressive, but what’s more amazing is that they keep building and expanding! There are stations and lines I don’t recognize already.



This year, I ordered some Frixion stamps to use with the planners. My first impression is that they’re cute but maybe not optimal in combination with Tomoe River paper… Review pending.

A Half Year With the Hobonichi


I am fundamentally a weekly kind of person. I’ve used the same one-week-per-spread format across many brands (the Japanese brand T’Beau, Paperblanks, museum planners, Moleskine weekly twin sets in pocket and regular sizes and special editions) consistently for the past twenty years. So my biggest worry upon taking the plunge into a Hobonichi was whether I could keep up with the daily format. I wanted to record more diary-style information than previously, but I also had a history of abandoning daily journals a few days into the new year.

Six months on, I have to say that the Hobonichi venture has been an unqualified success, because I have filled up nearly every page till now and am still going strong. And getting antsy for news of next year’s planner, too, because this time I’m going to get the larger Cousin AND the regular planner, both! This planner has made me sit down, not every day, but at regular enough intervals, to write down the particulars of my days.

I like the pull of the special paper, and I also like the fact that the grid-lined space invites me to use it freely for non-journalling purposes. My Hobonichi is becoming not exactly a diary but a snapshot of random bits of information on a variety of interests scattered over certain periods of time. I can’t draw so I haven’t attempted much by way of illustration; what I rather do is record factual information on topics of current interest, calling up my arsenal of colored ink and colored pencils. Early in the year I drew constellations after reading Eleanor Catton’s The Luminaries. A couple of months later I read a succession of books on Africa, which made me realize that my geographical knowledge of the continent was sorely lacking, so I drew maps. Maybe information drawn by hand is indeed better absorbed, the way experts argue that drawing letters help develop children’s brains. I certainly hope so. I also write down stationery wish lists and bits of information on pens and pencils that I want to save from emails on spare pages. I don’t paste things onto it much because I don’t want it to get too bulky; also, I’ve found out that masking tape tends to curl the paper, probably because it’s so thin.

(Last year’s MT Mizumaru Anzai special edition, the illustrator who was Haruki Murakami’s longtime collaborator.)

That said, the one issue I have with the Hobonichi is covers. The standard one I have is too ugly and unwieldy, and the nicer ones are just too expensive. In any case I feel that covers somehow detract from the simple beauty of the planner itself. I may just go coverless next year.

Kokuyo IDEA Notebooks (Tomoe River Paper)


Recently I discovered an interesting set of small notebooks at Nanami Paper. Tomoe River Paper products are still a rarity, and even then most come in blank sheet form, but this notebook offered the grid, my favorite ruling by far – but it was an interesting kind of ultra-minuscule grid. I bought it anyway because I haven’t been able to find any grid-lined Tomoe Rivers apart from the Hobonichi Planner yet.


Upon further research, I discovered that this notebook was not intended to be a stand-alone product, but is part of an elaborate planner system invented by a Mr Hideaki Sakuma called the “Jibun-Techo” (The “Me” Planner?). This three-part planner, manufactured and marketed by Kokuyo, consists of a Diary (the usual yearlong monthly/weekly scheduler, that you replenish each year), a Life notebook in which you enter all sorts of information that does not change year by year (lists, family trees, anniversaries, mottoes, addresses, passwords etc.), and a freestyle Idea notebook, which is this one. So basically what they sell at Nanami are the refills for this planner system, minus the planner itself. The Diary and Idea notebooks use Tomoe River Paper, but the Life uses something called MIO Paper.

The Jibun Techo system seems to be founded on a very different philosophy from that of the Hobonichi planner, which is why I can’t imagine myself getting one. In the early months of this blog I began a post entitled “The Limits of Japanese Design”, in which I argued that the simple, Zen-like aesthetic that people think comes naturally to the Japanese was actually the result of a superhuman effort to restrain the instinct towards complexity that, unchecked, would run to information overload. I ditched the post halfway through because it was starting to sound like a rant about something I wasn’t sure I knew all that well. But stuff like the Jibun Techo reminds me of all that all over again… Some ideas are great but just too complicated to follow through in practice (at least for me).

Busy busy busy…


It’s strange how small things creep up on you and before you know it, they’re claiming big chunks of your time.  (I’ve recently started Instagramming but on a subject other than pencils and stationery.)   The number of sites to check up on rises by the day!

It’s interesting, though, how a set of icons can represent a snapshot of your life at a certain moment.   Social-media services come and go; websites and providers rise and fall.  But paper lasts.  And your own handwriting lasts.  I bet my Hobonichi diary will outlast some of the icons up there.