By: Peggy Sue Wood | @pswediting

When I was researching readings for the development of my Graphic Literature course, I picked up a handful of graphic novels from the nearby Barnes and Noble. One of the most memorable was Halfway There, a graphic memoir by Christine Mari. Long after I finished reading it, I found myself reflecting on its themes of identity, belonging, and self-acceptance. It is a work that resonated with me far more deeply than I expected, and it deserves recognition as one of the strongest graphic memoirs I encountered during that search, which I would love to recommend to all of you reading.

At its core, Halfway There follows Mari, the author and memoirist, a Japanese-American woman who has spent her life feeling caught between cultures. Born in Tokyo but raised in the United States, she grows up with the persistent sense that she is never fully “enough” of either identity. She is too American to be Japanese and too Japanese to be American, existing in a space between categories that others seem eager to define and which she herself would like to figure out.

This central conflict gives the memoir much of its emotional weight. I found it emotionally rich and surprisingly relatable. Although my background differs significantly from Mari’s, her struggle with feeling out of place reminded me of my own experiences as a teenager and young adult switching between private to public school, growing beyond the community I grew up within, and struggling to find the right way to communicate or find community again as I developed into a young adult.

I think that broader relatability, the feeling of existing between identities of who you were and who you are now, and particularly in reflecting on moments of depression and searching for self as you grow, is one of the memoir’s greatest strengths. Although the description of the book emphasizes Mari’s Japanese-American experience, it ultimately speaks to a much larger audience of young adults finding who they are in the world.

Many people know what it feels like to struggle against expectations imposed by family, community, or society. The pressure to define yourself on your own terms while others insist on defining you first is a nearly universal challenge that I think stands out to me most.

I also liked the dismantling of the fantasy of geographic self-discovery. Popular narratives often suggest that moving somewhere new or returning to one’s roots will provide clarity and belonging. I see it a lot in fiction and non-fiction alike as people travel and find there way because of the right time or right place, people returning to their hometown and finding home and so on. Mari’s experience tells a different story.

When she moves back to Japan, she does not suddenly find the answers she has been searching for. In many ways, her sense of isolation becomes even more pronounced. The location changes, but the underlying questions remain the same, implying that these are not solely external factors but internal ones as well. Or, perhaps, more internal than external overall. She is not suddenly feeling that all is well again. Instead, she finds a new sense of stability and a healthier way to move forward.

So, despite not sharing Mari’s cultural background, I found her experiences deeply relatable. The specifics may differ, but the search for belonging, the discomfort of not fitting neatly into expected categories, and the gradual realization that identity is not always something that can be neatly resolved are experiences many readers will understand and, I think, enjoy.

While I ended up being unable to use Halfway There in my course materials at this time, it is a work I would very much like to recommend. It was funny, it was moving, and it was a read I could not put down after starting.

10/10 recommended!