89 books like Secret Scribbled Notebooks

Since there was a Winn-Dixie grocery store less than two miles from my house growing up, I was first drawn to this book because of the title.

But the moment I opened it I was swept into the heartwarming story of a lonely little girl who finds, and rescues, a stray dog at Winn-Dixie. This is a beautiful story of how a relationship with a dog can transform your life. It’s a book about friendship, compassion, and courage—and a story that stayed with me long after I closed the book.

This story’s protagonist is a caring, trustworthy, thoughtful young man. Harry’s life holds its share of loss. His loving dad is raising two boys alone because their mother has died. My heart both bled and soared as I watched Harry, a deep-thinking soul, make sense of the world. His tale holds timeless flavours of the past sprinkled with plenty of honesty.

Free verse delivers so much story in very few words. Each verse is a poem that stands alone and, besides reading from start to finish, I often dip into it in random places to enjoy glimpses into the heart of a wonderful male role model. It’s no wonder that the United States Board on Books for Young People placed it on their Outstanding International Book List.

I picked this up at a jumble sale. It sat on my shelves unread for years, many associates in publishing telling me it was still their favourite book. Supernatural romance isn’t my thing but respect for others is, so I was delighted when finally reading it. Not only about good versus evil, it showcases relationships of all kinds. Without any didacticism, it compares right from wrong, particularly with regard to not crossing lines for personal gratification.

Sorensen, who joins protagonist Laura in her journey, is an admirable and timeless role model for every male. Despite fighting his own demons, he behaves honourably. His interactions with Laura revolve around the dangers of inviting trouble upon yourself. Each of them learns to value the magic within themselves and to accept who they are. No wonder it won the 1984 Carnegie Medal.

Thank goodness those in Nashville’s world are nurturing and full of common sense. He’s like no other child but his story shows that difference doesn’t need fixing. His adoptive family doesn’t always expect him to adapt to the way they do things, sometimes adapting their own behaviour. I love how Nashville and his sister bake cake every night because there are 364 non-birthdays to celebrate each day.

Nashville’s tale embraces the idea that impossible is a ridiculous little word and shows that no matter how different we are, we share the same hopes, fears and a need to stay true to ourselves. One of my favourite lines in the book relates to a life-changing injury Nashville accidentally causes to another being. The vet says this little bird will just have to make do. It’s true for any of us in many situations.

This is a children's book – the story of the three Fossil children, their peculiar upbringing, and the ups and downs of their lives at stage school – but it is a wonderful read at any age. Brilliantly infused with the texture of daily life in 1930s London, it creates a really specific and compelling atmosphere. The food they ate, the cost of clothes, transport, the make-up of their household, even the quality of the air they breathed, is all described, as part of a warm and engrossing tale. Nothing I've read quite transports you to that time in the way that this does. 

V.C. Andrews was my first dive into gothic fiction. Fans often fawn over Flowers in the Attic but something about Andrews' only standalone book (let's not talk about the sequel!) really spoke to 14-year-old me.

I loved the isolating setting of the aging Whitefern estate. I hated every member of the family. Audrina herself is an unreliable narrator who assures the reader just how unreliable she is. And so, of course, when a boy shows her interest, she dives headfirst into her only source of comfort.

Teenage me was smitten with this book, and adult me now sees all the red flags these characters wave. Andrews might not have been the best writer, but her storytelling ability sure cut into my coming-of-age female psyche like no other writer could.

Departing from the surreal is Ramona, the antihero-turned-hero of Beverly Cleary’s Beezus and Ramona series.

Ramona is an entirely realistic child who is filled with passionate desires and intense feelings, all of which she acts on, even when she knows better. The interesting thing about these books is that Ramona was introduced as a foil and annoyance to her long-suffering older sister, Beezus.

But anyone with blood in their veins would find Ramona preferable to Beezus, and so, clearly, did Beverly Cleary, who switched her focus from color-inside-the-lines Beezus to wild Ramona with her varying confusions and longings—such as her insurmountable urge to boing the ringlets of another little girl in her class, which earns her a suspension, and her equally irresistible yearning to kiss little Davy—and in doing so, created a hero beloved for over fifty years.  

Hathin needs to cover up that her sister isn’t an oracle. Actually, she’s pretty useless. But now leaders are coming to investigate her sister. Can Hathin fake it? 

Frances Hardinge writes so many good books, but this is my favorite of hers by far. She sets up what you think will be the plot… and then zip! Something totally unexpected happens. So you figure you know where the story’s going… and nope! Now it goes a different direction entirely! And each zig builds tension until the finale of the story, wrapping everything together. If you enjoy female protagonists in a rich fantasy setting, check this out!

Austen writes sisters like no one else, and the dynamic between tempestuous Marianne and practical Elinor is the template for so many novels that have followed.

Austen keeps the two sisters from becoming caricatures by making them more alike than different, and the love that anchors their relationship is at the heart of the novel.

I first read this as a freshman in college, and I still think about it every time I’m writing sisters. A classic.

This novel is a murder mystery, of sorts, that also has a lot to say about socio-economic divides in contemporary Korea. This was particularly interesting to me because when I lived there in the 1970s, everyone was poor. No one owned a motorbike, much less a car, and they were all barely scraping by. Now, though, great wealth and privilege have emerged alongside persistent poverty, and that class divide looks too familiar to Americans. The rich are privileged and have access to things the poor do not, including justice.