100 books like Layla's Happiness

I love lyrical picture books with colorful illustrations. If you do too, you’ll enjoy The Boy & the Bindi. Vivek Shraya tells the story of a boy who wants to wear a bindi, the red dot Southeast Asian women often wear on their foreheads to show where creation began. Instead of chastising him for wanting to do something reserved for women, the boy’s mother welcomes him into the beauty of the bindi, explaining its significance. This book does a wonderful job of meeting children who are exploring their gender exactly where they are. 

This is a stunning bilingual story about a boy whose father teaches him about songs as a way of expressing love, and then helps him write a love song for a special boy. I fell in love with the story when I first saw the short-film version and am equally enthusiastic about the picture book. The author describes the story as a “queer reclamation of the Mexican serenata tradition” and shows us a family that transmits the deep meaning of cultural traditions while also re-imagining them. The gorgeous illustrations convey a sense of softness and magic.  Along with the narrative, written in both English and Spanish, the images carry the reader into a world that is pure beauty, affirmation, celebration, and joy.  

I first saw this book about an Inuit newborn on a list of LGBTQ-friendly books because it welcomes a baby into the world without focusing on their gender. This is just one of many things I love about this bedtime poem. Kulu is a term of endearment for babies and young children in Inuktitut and the poem introduces Baby Kulu to the arctic summer. The animals and land share gifts such as love, patience, respect for animals, gentleness, and kindness. The beautiful illustrations in soft hues, convey the same gentle tone as the words, and lead the reader to feel embraced, adored, comforted, and ready to dream. The book is available in English, French, and Inuktitut. 

Where Are You From? boasts breathtakingly gorgeous text and expansive illustrations. I love this book because it first draws attention to how our world wants to simplify a person’s story. The book then counters with the beautiful reality that we are complex. As the child of immigrants, I could relate to this little girl seeking answers to the narrow question people keep asking her. She turns to Abuelo, who refuses to answer in ways that might categorize her. Instead, his poetic words sweep her up in a triumphant story rooted in deep ties to generations past and ongoing connections with place. Ultimately, this story transforms that feeling of not belonging into a celebration of who you are. What a joy!

This book is colourful, joyful, and deliciously diverse. The simple rhyme is rollicking but not too sweet, the illustrations are bright and playful, with plenty of fun detail. I love the mixture of people (all ages and colours and abilities) at work in the community garden, and how there is room for different ways of doing things (some plots are neat and proper while others are messy and wild). Best of all is how the story ends with everyone sitting down together to enjoy a garden-grown feast. Community, humour, hospitality, gratitude, and care for the earth—this little story is a cornucopia of good things. 

Harlem Grown is the story of the beginnings of the Harlem Grown program. The Harlem Grown program is a program that supports and mentors youth through urban gardening.

In New York City there was a vacant lot across from PS 175 full of junk and trash. The author Tony Hillery became part of the PS 175 community and decided to work with the students to transform that 'haunted' lot. Together, Tony and four hundred students made that garden into their own farm, then invited the neighbors to share their adventure.

This first successful project led to an organization of twelve Harlem gardens, sustained by their communities but supported by full time staff. It is a beautiful story of recognizing our ability to create impact and how that can be amplified in community.  

This gorgeous and touching book shows the many ways community gardens are more than a name—they build community. In a time when it’s so easy to feel helpless, here are ordinary people taking small steps with a big impact. I particularly loved the use of community garden time as alternative sentencing for teen offenders, and how the kids turned around and used their skills to help homebound seniors. 

Instead of merely critiquing existing food systems, Will Allen’s Good Food Revolution documents a path forward that he himself created in Milwaukee, WI.

After a career spanning professional basketball and food production, Allen created Growing Power, an urban farm in an impoverished area of Milwaukee focusing on fish and produce. More important, Growing Power helps local youth and addresses the systemic racism that many face.

What I especially love about this book is that Allen shows the power of urban agriculture to change lives. Many denigrate community gardens and similar projects, stating that they can’t feed everyone. True, but they do provide education, community, and opportunities, Allen and Growing Power show food democracy can change a community.

Not really a farm-to-table book, but I love the inspirational message of this story—that anyone can grow a plant, anywhere that they are.

“For an anywhere farm, here's all that you need: soil and sunshine, some water, a seed.” The author goes on to inspire readers (in rollicking rhyme) to plant their “farms” in any type container they can find—an empty lot, a box or bucket, a shoe, or even a horn.

Again, not exactly accurate, but a wonderful way to spark creative discussions about growing a garden to make our world a greener and more beautiful place. For, “with soil and sunshine and water and care, one day all our anywhere farms anywhere might turn into an everywhere farm everywhere.” 

I might not have written my own family history without the example of this book. I was enthralled when I read this compelling, well-researched, and well-written “family memoir” (as Murray calls it) years ago.

Everything about it drew me in, Murray’s compelling voice, the depth of her research, her descriptions of her relatives, and the vanished world they inhabited. Magisterial in every sense of the word, this is family history as American history, by a woman who was a lawyer, activist, and, in 1977, at age 67, the first black woman ordained an Episcopal priest.

Her book continues to inspire me to strive to meet her example.