Fans pick 55 books like Baby, Mix Me a Drink

This picture book is one of the only contemporary books for children that shows drinking for pleasure.

After a mouse gets eaten up by a wolf, he meets a duck that lives in “the belly of the beast.” The two become fast friends and live happily in the wolf’s stomach. Together they make soup, dance to records, and enjoy the finer things in life.  When the wolf complains of a stomachache, the duck calls up a cure for him—advising that he eat a hunk of good chess, a flagon of wine, and some beeswax candles.

After the wolf does so, mouse and duck don top hats, tuxedo jackets, bow ties and sit down to feast, raising their glasses of wine to the health of the wolf. Ultimately, duck and mouse save the wolf’s life and in return he grants them their wish to return to their home in his stomach.… show more.

What terrible tome would Morticia and Gomez have read to little Wednesday in order to ensure that she would have the most noxious nightmares? I believe they would’ve cracked open this gothic children’s classic, written and illustrated by the enigmatic Edward Gorey.

This book recites the alphabet, with each letter representing how a child died. Take, for instance, the representation of our second letter: “B is for Basil assaulted by bears.” What better way for a wicked whelp to learn her letters?

I both chuckled and winced while reading this book, especially with the paired black-and-white illustrations. It’s funny and deeply dark, which is, of course, the perfect mix for an Addams Family fan.

The appalling schoolgirls that attend Ronald Searle’s fictional girls’ boarding school drink copious amounts of alcohol, smoke, and regularly set the school on fire. In Searle’s cartoons horror and humor are tightly wound. But don’t let the girls’ boarding school gym slips, high black socks, boater hats, and hair bows fool you. These young ladies grin at violence and delight in rule breaking.

Searle drew the second and third St. Trinian’s cartoon while he was a Japanese prisoner of war during World War II. Remarkably, Searle kept a visual record of his time in captivity, including self-portraits, four hundred secret sketches of prisoners and the brutalities of the guards as well as seventy-two cartoons, including the second and third St. Trinian’s drawings which were published in 1945 after his return from the war.

I love all of Lynda Barry’s comics, but It’s So Magic! is my favorite collection.

Barry’s adolescent heroines steal wine from parents and from synagogues; they drink the cheap stuff like Boones Farm Apple Wine, and concoctions of mixed hard liquor made from whatever they can find in their houses that give the reader a hangover just thinking about it.

Barry’s graphic narratives also include stories of sexual abuse that are visually overlaid with gross-out drinking humor that will make some laugh and others turn away. Through visual humor, she brings into view both drinking girls and knowledge about sexual assault often hidden from view.

Barry’s alternative lessons remain radical in this politically fraught time when neo-temperance advocates attempt to tie #MeToo to abstinence, once again trying to enforce the idea that girls and women are to blame if they drink too much alcohol.

So funny! Diary of a Wimpy Kid for adults. Just love these fun little cartoons, easy reading, you don’t need your brain at all, just relax and enjoy.

Loss and grief torpedo inner peace. Dogfulness is a tap on the head that reminds me I can rest on islands of serenity.

Loss makes us hold on, to grip. My dog flops down and goes Zen. Instead of pacing through the minefield of my mind, Dogfulness urges me to go for a walk. This book nudges me to “travel hopefully.” Like my dog, every walk is a good walk.

Simple, brief, golden peace filled quotes and reminders. Dogfulness gives me permission to be more present each day. To enjoy acts of kindness, mine, and others towards me. To allow the promise of giving and receiving love again.

Words of support don’t have to come from long, dreary memoirs, airy-fairy self-help books, or “You think you are suffering? I’ll see your tragedy and raise you one” best sellers. Respite can come from a dog.

This is an engrossing tale of love, loss, trust, and life-changing choices. Springer’s endearing, well-drawn characters sucked me in from page 1 as they faced a myriad of real-life challenges while struggling to both maintain old relationships and develop new ones. But as Springer demonstrates, real love—not just the romantic variety—can see us through the messiest of situations. While none of the situations depicted in this book were ones I had personally experienced, the author’s deep-dive depictions gave me exactly the kinds of character insights I look for in my reads.

This book had me in stitches!

It’s a comedy about a woman who gives up her job as an undercover spy to raise her family. But beneath the school runs and bake sales, she’s never quite said goodbye to the past and when the opportunity to work for MI5 again presents itself, she can’t say no. But does she still have what it takes?

If you’re terrified of your child’s class Whatsapp group, shudder when you see anyone from the school’s PTA, and are juggling being a mum with a career, then I think you’ll enjoy this one. 

I felt a kinship at Schulz’s expression of dislike for the “well-intentioned” euphemisms for dying.

Her visual explanations of what well-wishers really feel and the almost cinematic movement through her experience in losing her father reveal a skilled writer. I’m drawn more to fine writing than trodding through a stranger’s personal journey. The confusion of grief is shared in a scholarly manner including literary references that show loss is a time-worn path.

The self-assignment as torch bearer for our focus of grief is another mantle I recognized. I have found that the legacy of the one we’ve lost becomes a painful need. As with Schulz, keeping the flame burning relieves the ache until the ache burns out in its time. An uplift from the loss is Schulz’s “finding” of love. Hope pushes through the sorrow.

Casey wakes up in the hospital to discover that she cannot move, or see, or speak. She infers from the conversation around her that she's been hit by a car. Soon, she realizes the supposed "accident" was, in fact, an attempt on her life. Soon after that, she starts to wonder if her husband was involved. But she is utterly defenseless and unable to warn anybody about what she thinks she knows.

This is a masterclass in suspense. This book breaks every rule I thought I knew about giving characters agency and taking them on a journey—imagine an unputdownable thriller in which the main character doesn't even get out of bed for 300 pages. It should be impossible. But Joy Fielding just cracks her knuckles and says, "Hold my gin."