91 books like Big Bad Bubble

I feel like I lived this story as a kid. I’ll bet a lot of kids do. A young boy overcomes his fear of the high dive. 

Step by step, Gaia Cornwall takes us through Jabari’s jump. Jabari starts by telling his dad he’s not scared at all. He clearly is. He delays, makes excuses. Dad never pushes. He wants this to be Jabari’s decision, Jabari’s victory. It’s so relatable, the perspective even changes to first person once Jabari is high above the pool. 

Everything rings true. It’s exactly what a scared kid would say and do. It’s exactly what I said and did when I was Jabari’s age trying to summon my own courage on the high dive. Except when I hit the water, my swim trunks fell off.

I’m a creature of habit. So is Scaredy Squirrel. We both know the comforts of feeling safe in perfect routines where nothing is left to chance, where nothing can go wrong…right?  

Scaredy writes lists of his emergency procedures, draws grids of his safety equipment, diagrams his secret exit strategies. I feel this poor squirrel’s pain. How many nights have I lain awake before a school visit mulling over my presentations? No plan is fool proof. So when Scaredy accidentally falls from his tree, he does what he must: thinks quickly and improvises. And discovers a secret ability he never knew he had. 

In the end, Melanie Watt gives Scaredy most of his old routine back, but now it’s balanced with a healthy dose of adventure. Perfectly balanced, I’d say.

This book does such a good job of engaging the reader. I love how Grover communicates with the reader and actively tries to stop them from moving forward.

It doesn’t hurt that Grover is my favorite Sesame Street character, and his energetic voice came through in the text.

Here’s a book about being shy in a world that rewards the bold. 

Sugar is the beloved therapy dog at school. She puts people at ease. Kids, teachers, parents, all give her pets. But not Hannah. Whenever it’s her turn, she shrinks away. Then, when Sugar gets lost, Hannah finds herself reaching out to calm her. Her fear evaporates when Sugar’s the one in need. Kate Berube evokes Hannah’s quiet bravery with a beautifully-timed wordless scene. 

When I was Hannah’s age, I was shy too. I hid when I thought my teacher was going to give me a shot. But her “syringe” was just a fountain pen. As she wrote my name, my fear evaporated. I could have used a dog like Sugar. Or a book like this.

I love a story set in a time and place I have scant reference for. Based partly on the English author’s experiences visiting Hollywood (during the filming of Brideshead Revisited), this book features a hyper-specific look at British expat life in Los Angeles in the 1940s. Sure, why not?

Things really get moving when the pet funeral home and love triangle plots begin a catastrophic entanglement that can only end in tragedy (but, like, in that ironic way, that’s fun to read about).

As shocking as I felt Kubrick’s film was, I think the book is possibly more startling. Some scenes Kubrick played for laughs are described as violent and sadistic in the novel. If, like me, you are a fan of the film, it’ll fill in some blanks for you. Ever wonder why Alex and his friends drink milk?

The book is written in futuristic teen-speak that did take me a while to get my head around, but this ultimately adds to the strangeness of the insular world these ‘droogs’ inhabit. Though it was first published in 1962, I think this is still a very relevant and unflinching look at the place of violence in society.

Overstuffed and labyrinthine, Eco’s novel dives into a highly academic rabbit hole of conspiracy theories that toss me head over heels like a strong wave in the ocean. It reads a bit like The DaVinci Code written by Thomas Pynchon (who we’ll get to in a minute), the paranoias stemming from historical entities like the Knights Templar and the Rosicrucians.

I’d be hard-pressed to provide an accurate summary of events, but it all makes for a pleasantly bewildering reading experience.

This collection of short stories left me a bit depressed but in a good way. Cook writes with pure beauty and poetry. The ideas of this collection were, at times, odd and uncomfortable, but they succeeded in making me consider the darker elements that exist within all of us as humans. These stories kept me engaged through their balance of settings as well. Some stories felt present, while others crafted bleak futures that were all too believable. A few of the stories had some racy elements too, so if you’re into that kind of thing, you won’t be disappointed.

Many could argue that picking the most mind-bending Philip K. Dick book is an impossible task. His imagination spawned some of the best science fiction books of his era, which inspired several groundbreaking films (Bladerunner, Total Recall, Minority Report, etc.) I agree: it’s impossible to pick one.

But I love this book because it explores an intriguing idea from drug-induced psychosis—that of cross-chatter, or the notion that the brain’s two hemispheres can keep secrets from each other. The story follows the hapless Bob Arctor, an undercover narcotics agent trying to spy on himself and his junkie friends who are addicted to the mysterious Substance D. 

Dick conjures a mesmeric psychedelic tale, at turns hilarious, unnerving, and a poignant farewell to real-life addict friends who died too soon.  

This book has had a profound impact on me, as a child reader, as an artist, and as a parent. (It was initially published in 1978 and was reissued more recently.) The images are stunning. Each spread is a sweeping perspective of a surreal, Edenic valley. When I first read the book as a kid in the 1980s, I was transfixed. It’s a thriller! In a tension-filled operation, seven goblins are trying to steal the colors of the rainbow.

When I read the book now, I see the story as a parable about resource exploitation and environmental stewardship. The Rainbow Goblins (I won’t spoil the ending, but it is spectacular) has nestled its way into my brain and has become a touchstone for me in thinking about the most effective ways to tell a story.