99 books like Harriet the Spy

I wasn't an orphan, I wasn’t raised on a farm, and no one teased me for my ordinary brown hair, but my identification with “carrot topped” Anne Shirley was immersive and all consuming. I could smell the flowers and taste the russet apples she delights in, and I could feel the unrelenting joie de vivre that, despite life’s many slings and arrows, courses through her childhood, adolescence, and young adulthood.

This book may date from 1905, but this beloved story of an orphan girl who comes to live with an aging brother and sister on their farm on Prince Edward Island has lost nothing of its irresistible charm. An awkward outsider looking in upon a world she longs to join, outspoken, feisty, wildly imaginative Anne came alive for me and won my heart from the moment I met her on the page. 

The imagination of a child should be nourished and fed–growing up, this book did just that for me. I could relate to the protagonist in the sense that I loved to learn–and to this day, I am a sponge for knowledge–but I was easily bored with the mundane, often creating worlds that led to my becoming an author.

This was probably one of the earliest works to cultivate that. The characters are rooted in real-life comparisons and still live in the back of my mind. It continues to resonate with me today because despite some tropes being beaten into the ground, this novel took simple concepts, like talking dogs and numbers and letters at war, and made them have a fantasy life of their own.

I was twelve when I fell in love with the old fashioned allure of the 19th century that I discovered in this book, which provided an early template (1868), for generations of books to follow that break down female stereotypes.

I identified with different aspects of all four March daughters, but most powerfully with Jo, the writer, who secretively pursues publication, prevails as a successful author, and no doubt provided a template for my own development as a writer.

And Marmee’s nurturing model of mothering was especially consoling to me as I grew up entangled in a difficult mother/daughter relationship, later to be recycled in my own books.

I first read this extraordinary, heartwarming story of self-reliance and survival when my own children were growing up, and I’ve returned to reading Island of the Blue Dolphins often throughout my adult years, typically at times when I find myself struggling to regain my footing as I face personal problems and challenges.

Published in 1960, this book tells the story of a young girl named Karana who spends nearly two decades abandoned and alone on the desert island her tribe evacuates after a deadly conflict with Aleutian otter hunters. I’ve often recommended this slight but powerful tale to women friends suffering from feelings of desolation and helplessness, and Karana’s courage, resilience, and creativity have succeeded in lifting their spirits and inspiring hope.

I can’t find a more deeply philosophical book, among all adult literature, to compare with the works of Madeleine L’Engle.

The protagonists of these stories may be children, but they live in a world of scientific supernature that blurs the lines between measurable, observable reality and mystic philosophy. Even before researching Madeleine L’Engle’s life, I could tell that she was a serious thinker.

Few books have had such a profound impact on the way I approach living in the “real” world of adults. Einstein would have loved this book.

This book is an unusual, magical story about differences and how we often react to those who don’t conform to the norms in society.

The plot is tremendously intertwined with suspense, the type that unexpectedly creeps up on you and surprises you every time. You are instantly hooked from start to finish.

Unputdownable. I was totally immersed from the first page. It's an unforgettable book. If you believe in non-conformity, then this book is for you.

When I had my son almost nine years ago, I dreamed of the day I’d be able to share my favorite childhood books with him. Matilda, which I remembered as a riveting, oddball page-turner, did not disappoint. As I read to him, we cheered for tiny Matilda to topple the mythically bad school principal, Miss Trunchbull, and we laughed until we cried when Matilda’s mother scolded her kind-hearted teacher, Miss Honey, for reading too much.

We still quote the line to each other that cracked us up: “Looks is more important than books, Miss Hunky.” I don’t know why it’s so funny, my son said at the time, but it is.

Miranda Sinclair is a latchkey kid who lives with her single mom on the Upper West Side of New York City in the late 1970s. I love the way Miranda navigates her dirty, dangerous, yet enchanting city – her street smarts, her fears, her relationships with the adults in the neighborhood who keep a watchful eye over her. And the book, while totally gritty and real, also has a lovely, melancholy element of magical realism that makes the story mysterious and poignant. 

Nestor Lopez can’t catch a break, which feels all too real for many of us who grew up moving around.

In Nestor’s case, it’s because of his father being in the military, but as we get to experience him adapting to yet another new school, we discover he has the neatest of abilities—talking to animals.

Nestor’s journey to save his town under the noises of the adults reminds me of when I was a kid keeping secrets from the adults in my life. And with lots of twists and turns, Nestor’s story only gets better and better.

This book is indeed a “creation of comic genius,” as Nick Hornby blurbed. The movie didn’t do anything for me; I found Renée Zellweger quite blah, and Hugh Grant was playing the British cad as usual. However, the book was so funny I had a hard time putting it down.

Basically, it is about Bridget, a British “Everywoman” who falls into the clutches of her slimy boss, Daniel, while on a quest for the traditional Holy Grail of womanhood—true love. One of the things I most enjoyed about this chick-lit classic was the rather graphic booze-and-smoking sessions, as well as the eccentric minor characters, especially Bridget’s mother. My mother is also a maverick and very much a free spirit, so this really resonated with me.