Fans pick 100 books like Ash

This classic retelling of Cinderella is the one that first got me into fairytale retellings. We see El as a young woman living with her stepmother, stepsisters, and godmother who can only do small magic. El is cursed with a spell of obedience, and she must do anything if someone else commands it. She keeps her curse a secret to the best of her ability, with only the aid of her godmother to keep her safe. The story spans several years of El’s life and features a slow, sweet romance with the prince, whom she gets to know throughout the entire story. My favorite part is the ending, where we see how her strength of character has grown to the point that she is able to stand up and do the right thing, despite the power of the curse.

To me, what’s most striking about this book, a queer retelling of “Snow White,” is that in addition to the POV of the Snow White character, Lynet, there’s also narration from Mina, the Evil Queen insert. Only in this retelling Mina isn’t a superficial villain.

In fact, she’s no villain at all. I find her to be a complex heroine, and her relationship with Lynet is equally rich and complicated. I was compelled by Lynet and Mina’s struggles under the weight of feminine and royal expectations. Despite their conflicts, they are more alike than they are different, and their journey to realizing this was so satisfying.

The sapphic romance between Lynet and a surgeon provides a lovely subplot that adds to, rather than distracts from, the main storyline. One of my all-time favorite sapphic retellings.

This fairytale retelling is set in a land recovering from war. Cinderella is a landowner, but due to her late father’s poor management of funds, her estate owes significant debts. When she meets Friedrich, an intriguing noble who belongs to the enemy who won the war, everything becomes much more complicated. This fairytale retelling is clever and interesting, with a very different feel than most Cinderella retellings. It is engaging and definitely worth a read.

Lighthearted and fun, this retelling is centered on Cinderella’s stepsister, Charlotte. Charlotte is burdened with the unenviable responsibility of finding a wealthy husband, as their small family is nearly destitute. When they make it to the ball, Charlotte is smart and lucky enough to make an acquaintance with the prince. But Cinderella, aka Blanche, keeps getting in her way. This cute and sweet tale blends fantasy, humor, and a dash of philosophy with its new spin on this classic tale.

This story kicks off a series of fairytale retellings filled with intrigue and adventure by sweeping the main character into a world of complex political machinations. She’s offered an opportunity for freedom from her conniving and overbearing family—all she has to do is deliver a message in exchange. But it turns out, the message was more dangerous than she could have imagined. This Cinderella retelling is unique in that there isn’t much magic in it, but it is filled with mystery, conspiracy, and swirling political machinations.

What I loved most about Ferraro’s retelling of The Mysteries of Udolpho was his unique take on the classic YA love triangle. Not only does this love triangle stand out because it’s queer (all three characters involved are young men), but because it wasn’t obvious to me from the beginning how the love triangle would resolve. Typically, in love triangle stories, I can tell who the character – and thus the author – prefers. I’m pretty confident about who is going to win out in the end. 

But Ferraro took his time developing each love interest, and his main character’s struggle to pick one over the other is palpable and well-written. I was left guessing until the very end, and the way the love triangle resolved was both surprising and satisfying. 

No novelization of “The Goblin Market,” a poem by Christina Rosetti, has convinced me of the market’s allure like Not Good for Maidens. Lou, the novel’s main character, reflected my feelings in the beginning of the story, expressing confusion as to why anyone would enter the market knowing its horrors.

But as the past timeline of the novel developed, in which Lou’s Aunt May visited the market and began an unexpected sapphic romance, and as Lou had her own experiences related to the market in the present timeline, it was easier to understand why someone would be tempted. 

In their respective timelines, Lou and May search for themselves, desperate to forge identities unbound by family and duty. The market, in a way, grants them unique paths toward freedom, and I found that to be a compelling take on a classic I was never enchanted by before. Bovalino’s prose, illuminating… show more.

I loved McLemore’s retelling of “The Red Shoes” because the novel felt uniquely historical and modern due to its dual timelines, with one storyline in 1518 and the other five centuries later. Despite being so far apart, the timelines were connected by the intriguing mystery of a dancing fever. 

Another element I loved is that the 1518 timeline featured a queer romance with a trans character, which you don’t see often, even in queer retellings, and added another layer of richness to the story.

I’m a fan of everything McLemore writes because of their lush prose and compelling characters, but this one remains my favorite of theirs.

This graphic novel is stunningly illustrated with deeply relatable characters. Pan is a young woman on a remote world working in her father’s body shop and sneaks out at night to visit her friend, Tara, and sometimes they go dancing. Tara’s life was not her own. As a princess she was shut off from society and was going to be forced to marry the man who won the Cosmo knights Battle. Pan helps to smuggle Tara off-world and ruins her life on her backwater planet. When two strangers show up at her home needing help, her life is turned on its head. She leaves her planet behind and begins her real life in the stars. An incredible, original story about space, knights, princesses, and lost friends.

The narrator of We Are Okay was like a siren for me. Jorjeana Marie’s voice holds the pain of the main character Marin like a tiny secret clutched in her fist and hidden from view. You want to see it so badly, but you only get glimpses as she unfolds one finger at a time.

I love the delicate unraveling of this tragic story and how Marin’s loneliness gets under your skin, so you really feel it and feel for her. Like in What to Say Next, a death is a catalyst, but how the death is used in the two stories is entirely different. As an author, I enjoy studying these plot points to see how each author uses them to mold their style and voice.