The most recommended books about family

I was born in England but have also lived in Germany and Switzerland. I’m not – and never have been – an elite sportsperson, but I'm fascinated by the sporting world and in particular, how young people who are into sports cope with the pressures of growing up and dealing with the successes and failures of sports. I love playing sports and watching it, in particular the Olympics and Paralympics, because of the drama, the tension, the soaring highs of winning, and the miserable lows of losing. The books that I've chosen hooked me in and kept me turning their pages because they’re gripping stories with irresistible (sporty) characters in inspiring settings.

I'm a picture book author living in Los Angeles with my husband and two children. I love seeing the world through my children’s eyes and began writing stories for and inspired by them after they were born. Watching their relationships flourish with their grandparents and the grown-ups in their lives inspired me to write books that celebrate family and foster connection. My grandmas both live overseas and I treasure the time I spend with them. Just like my own children, the simplest moments together are the ones I hold onto and carry with me the most. I love books that celebrate these magical relationships and hope these books encourage readers to celebrate their own relationships.  

I'm a mom of two daughters who is fascinated with reading nonfiction parenting books and listening to parenting-related podcasts. My absolute favorite, though, is when fiction authors take a dense parenting topic and turn it into a relatable and engaging story so that readers can explore the same important issues and challenges in a more enjoyable way.

It's a pleasure to share these books with other readers because they so elegantly convey love in a way for young readers to easily understand. They contain elements of reassurance that both children and parents need, especially during times of transition. I didn't comprehend how much love I could have for another person until the birth of my daughter. My love for her was so immense and all-consuming that it brought an unfathomable joy to my life. I read these books to her during transitional times as a way to articulate the infinite love I have for her. I hope they bring as much comfort and closeness to other readers as they have to us.

I’ve always written funny, rhyming poems so, when I began reading picture books to my kids, I decided to give writing one a try. I now have seven published books (six are in rhyme). I love creating humorous, alliterative stanzas – I think that’s what makes rhyming picture books so much fun to read aloud! Here's an example from my book Cock-a-Doodle Oops: “I know that I’m quiet, but I’d like to try it. Here goes said a shy little sheep. / Her cock-a-doodle baaaa didn’t travel too faaaa. In fact, she made barely a peep.” I hope you enjoy reading the books I’ve listed and other humorous, rhyming picture books!

Anna Malaika Tubbs is the author of the critically acclaimed book The Three Mothers: How the Mothers of MLK Jr., Malcolm X, and James Baldwin Shaped a Nation. She is also a Cambridge Ph.D. candidate in Sociology and a Bill and Melinda Gates Cambridge Scholar. After graduating Phi Beta Kappa from Stanford University with a BA in Anthropology, Anna received a Master’s from the University of Cambridge in Multidisciplinary Gender Studies. Outside of the academy, she is an educator and DEI consultant. She lives with her husband, Michael Tubbs, and their son Michael Malakai.

I moved around non-stop as a kid, attending a dozen schools by age eleven. As a result, once I stayed put long enough to make real friends, I stuck to them like glitter glue. As a reader and writer, I can’t get enough stories about female friendships, whether rock-solid or fraying. My latest novel involves childhood friends whose loyalty is stretched like a pair of latex gloves yanked off at a crime scene. The book grew out of a meme I saw on Facebook, captioned: “Real friends help you hide the bodies”. My first thought was: who would I help? Straight off, I thought of my oldest friends.

I have accompanied dying people for more than twenty-five years—as a counsellor, volunteer chaplain, and companion. I feel passionate about changing the perception of dying and death, the way we care for people during their most vulnerable moments, and how we support families through this painful time. Since my twenties I have been immersed in Buddhist practise which inspires and informs my life and work. Together with other clinicians and mindfulness practitioners, we created one of the first contemplative-based training in end-of-life care for caregivers called “Authentic Presence”. Daring to be present might be the hardest thing you may have done in your life, and, you may come to discover, one of the most intimate, beautiful, and rewarding.

I’m a novelist and admire writing that pushes against the conventions of mainstream fiction, that goes around and beyond the formulaic, commercial concept of plot. In the Western world, we’re especially stuck on what film director Raul Ruiz calls “conflict theory”—the masculinist idea that only conflict can create narrative. Of course conflict is part of life, but hello—there’s more. Conventional plot’s well-worn heroes, helpers, villians, saviours, and conflict-based climax, so closely tied to Hollywood USA, are predictable and unfulfilling. Many people seek something more innovative, like the literary versions of Philip Glass or Fernando Botero.

I am a literary and cultural historian who has been studying death for three decades. But I am, first and foremost, a human who has suffered the loss of loved ones and grief and found my immediate culture an inhospitable place to experience, transform, and share those emotions. We have an urgent need to “re-imagine” the way we prepare for our own deaths, as well as experience the deaths of others. I hope my work, both as a scholar and a public citizen, will inspire people to form communities of conversation and action that will reshape the way we think about death, dying, and grief.