100 books like C+nto

This is a story of redemption at its sweetest. Although written in 1911, it stands the test of time for today’s girls who think all is lost and find their happy place in the natural world.

I loved nine-year-old Mary Lennox’s exotic beginnings. Born in India to an absent mother and an often ill and busy English father, Mary’s frequent illnesses, lack of attention, and permissive nannies had turned her into an unlikable human. I had a hard time imagining this girl doing anything positive.

I thought for sure she was unretrievable. But when Mary, a seeming lost cause, is sent to live with a distant uncle, she is transformed. Inspired by a secret garden and determined to bring it back to life, she ultimately finds healing and happiness. Lost causes who are saved by birds and nature are my favorites! 

The first time I tried to read this book, I had to put it down. I like grammar, and this book is having none of it. Then I tried again a few weeks later because everyone said I should. Once I got used to it, I came to appreciate this stream-of-consciousness story filled with artists, poets, writers, lesbians, love triangles, and adventures, and, at its heart, unlikely female friendships between Black women living mostly in London, with plot twists and turns deepening their interconnectedness in often astonishing ways. 

The writing is so vivid that it made me feel as if I’d watched a film rather than read a book. A bright, multi-colored, hilarious, emotionally deep, socially aware, politically progressive, moving, and fast-paced film.

Who can resist a story that begins, “I write this sitting in the kitchen sink. My feet are in it; the rest of me is on the draining board, which I have padded with our dog’s blanket and the tea-cozy”? Especially when you know the author also wrote 101 Dalmations? 

I loved this coming-of-age story for the teenage narrator’s quirky, elegant writing. She’s an aspiring novelist, “capturing” the characters around her in her diary. She’s largely left to her own devices, along with her two siblings, on the grounds of a remote castle, with a bohemian stepmother and a distant father suffering from writer’s block. It’s a light, farcical story, tinged with sadness, set in the English countryside and featuring another unlikely female protagonist breaking the mold. 

I read this book before I’d found words to describe the impact on my teenage self of living in a patriarchal world that didn’t allow me to do things I wanted to because I was a girl—and that insisted I do things I didn’t want to. I read it before I’d heard the word feminist used other than as an insult. But the essentially feminist spirit of the novel touched me deeply. 

I raced through the book, hoping that this single mother who’d fled an alcoholic and abusive husband with her child would make it out alive, that she’d find her people, and that she’d get justice. Years later, I saw the book described as the first feminist novel, and for good reason—written in Victorian England, no less. 

If you’re not familiar with Pat Parker yet, you’re in for a treat.

This collection gathers the published and unpublished writing of a badass literary powerhouse who has yet to get her full due. Written from the 1960s-1980s, Parker’s poems, stories, essays, and plays give a foundation of black queer and feminist thinking.

With striking language and irresistible humor, Parker and her irreverent characters shed light on the complexities of gender identity, state violence, nonmonogamy, pleasure, and belonging. Parker’s work is both ahead of its time and right on time, reminding us that history—and our power to shape it—are less distant than we think. 

I had the incredible fortune of seeing Alabi read from Against Heaven about a month ago, and what I most remember is the feeling of calm that came over me as they read. It's the kind of calm you get when you're in the presence of incredible beauty—like a waterfall, a mountain, or a vast crowd of protestors—and you realize that this is what life is for.

These poems are dear to me because of the way Alabi wrestles biblical language into meanings that they, and we, need. I wish I could feel all the time the way I feel reading this book.

This book was chosen because of the deep, profound love that is displayed throughout the book. It speaks to how vulnerable a person makes themselves when they love deeply and how scary that can be. It also speaks to how you can feel so totally lost in loving another person that you forget to love yourself. I could identify with loving so intensely also and having my heart broken. I also identified with the journey of coming to loving oneself again and with that being open to finding someone better. 

This is a book full of enthusiasm and optimism, even when describing the darkest parts of life. Honestly, the pain hurt less after reading this book. 

It was a one-sitting read, and I thought there was a conversation between Courtney Peppernell and me the whole time. 

It felt as if my best friend and I were talking.

I can’t find another way to describe it - this book is just funny!

An autobiographical story about the author’s struggles to find a girlfriend and the general difficulties of dating, this book kept putting me in my own feelings because I recognized so many of those emotions. I used to believe that dating in the gay community was easy. (It’s not.)

I love it whenever someone manages to take an aspect of being gay and show the difficulties in a relatable or humorous way. I feel like almost everyone, gay or straight, can relate to the difficulties of dating. I also love that the author is not afraid to poke a little fun at herself in a healthy way. Sometimes, that’s how you get through the struggle!

This is the spark that lit me on fire and showed me that all the features of queer adolescence I thought were impossible to write about in “books for teens” are totally possible to write about.

Juliet, Puerto Rican teen from the Bronx, feels the weight of her community’s and family’s homophobia, and attempts to build her resume and find a wider world by interning for her favorite feminist writer—a thirtysomething eccentric, woo-woo white Oregonian, who despite having friends and exes of color and apparently genuinely hoping to offer Juliet wisdom, care, and research opportunities, is lackadaisical, irresponsible, and more than capable of shrewdly using Juliet to market herself and her books.

Juliet’s encounters with racist microagressions, feminist approaches to menstruation, weed, heartbreak, and the problem of regionally-specific queer buzzwords pull no punches. Rivera asks us to look at what responsibilities might be involved in “community”, including the responsibility to… show more.