Here are 100 books that Max the Mighty fans have personally recommended if you like
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I’ve always been fascinated with the first-person voice, the way it magically pulls us into a story through the character’s/narrator’s perspective, and how when done well, can feel so natural and personal. I’ve tried to write in this perspective over the years, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. I hope I have done it adequately with this current novel. I wouldn’t say I’m an expert when it comes to the first-person, but I am an interested participant. I am a creative writing professor, but I am also a student of writing and always will be. The more I investigate, the more I read, the more I learn. Focusing on this topic has been no exception.
Some first person voices are just so naturally nostalgic, like you’re sitting around a campfire listening to someone telling you a story.
“The year my mother started hearing voices from her dead brother Clyde,” or “But Gigi was the first to fly.” So many moments to hold onto in this novel, each an introduction to another tale, or a memory you can’t wait to listen to and run off down the street to share it for yourself.
The voice of August is so real and clear and poetic that one forgets there’s even a writer behind it. This close first-person voice lets us in, welcomes us into the secrets of the street. “Everywhere we looked we saw the people trying to dream themselves out.” And dream I did, along every glorious page, only I never wanted out.
THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER FROM A NATIONAL BOOK AWARD WINNING AUTHOR
A TIME MAGAZINE TOP 10 NOVEL OF 2016 | SHORTLISTED FOR THE NATIONAL BOOK AWARD FOR FICTION 2016
FROM THE WINNER OF THE ASTRID LINDGREN MEMORIAL AWARD 2018
They used to be inseparable. They used to be young, brave and brilliant - amazingly beautiful and terrifyingly alone. August, Sylvia, Angela and Gigi shared everything: songs, secrets, fears and dreams. But 1970s Brooklyn was also a dangerous place, where grown men reached for innocent girls, where mothers disappeared and futures vanished at the turn of a street corner.
As a troubled teen who wasn’t raised in a traditional family environment, I had always gravitated toward books with transformative characters—underdogs who were lost or lost their way by accident and on purpose.
The genre never mattered to me as much as my ability to relate to struggling protagonists who needed to escape their situation or environment, regardless of what they had to do, right or wrong. Love them or loathe them, I learned something from each of them. I hope you enjoy their journeys as much as I have.
As a bad boy protagonist, I’ve always loathed Gene Forrester and love to loathe him. He starts as a quiet, intellectual student whose best friend and roommate is charming, self-confident, athletic, and a daredevil without being arrogant. Gene even seems to admire his roommate for having all those qualities until we learn the truth. He resents him.
Like Gene, there were times in my life when playing wingman to a vastly more popular friend could be frustrating, doubly so when they made terrible decisions. Yet, Gene’s journey to the heart of darkness helps put things in perspective. There is no better warning against envy and jealousy than the one immortalized by John Knowles.
'A novel that made such a deep impression on me at sixteen that I can still conjure the atmosphere in my fifties: of yearning, infatuation mingled indistinguishably with envy, and remorse' Lionel Shriver
An American coming-of-age tale during a period when the entire country was losing its innocence to the second world war.
Set at a boys' boarding school in New England during the early years of World War II, A Separate Peace is a harrowing and luminous parable of the dark side of adolescence. Gene is a lonely, introverted intellectual.…
I’ve always been fascinated with the first-person voice, the way it magically pulls us into a story through the character’s/narrator’s perspective, and how when done well, can feel so natural and personal. I’ve tried to write in this perspective over the years, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. I hope I have done it adequately with this current novel. I wouldn’t say I’m an expert when it comes to the first-person, but I am an interested participant. I am a creative writing professor, but I am also a student of writing and always will be. The more I investigate, the more I read, the more I learn. Focusing on this topic has been no exception.
When it comes to “selling the voice” in the first-person narrative, so much depends on the language and the style by which the chosen character tells the story. How convinced is the reader of this voice that promises us everything?
Let us only pay attention to Jabari Asim and his slave narrative Yonder, to know how to do it well. From the first chapter we are thrown into William’s world, the harsh truth of living on a plantation in the American South.
Once he starts narrating in his believable and lyrical voice, we feel the danger, and the hopelessness: ”I had known death could come at any time. You could keel over in the fields. You could be crushed under a wagon wheel, kicked by a horse, or have your skull split open because a slice of ham…had gone missing.” The first-person magic takes over and we have no choice…
The Water Dancer meets The Prophets in this spare, gripping, and beautifully rendered novel exploring love and friendship among a group of enslaved Black strivers in the mid-19th century.
They call themselves the Stolen. Their owners call them captives. They are taught their captors’ tongues and their beliefs but they have a language and rituals all their own.
In a world that would be allegorical if it weren’t saturated in harsh truths, Cato and William meet at Placid Hall, a plantation in an unspecified part of the American South. Subject to the whims of their tyrannical and eccentric captor, Cannonball…
I’ve always been fascinated with the first-person voice, the way it magically pulls us into a story through the character’s/narrator’s perspective, and how when done well, can feel so natural and personal. I’ve tried to write in this perspective over the years, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. I hope I have done it adequately with this current novel. I wouldn’t say I’m an expert when it comes to the first-person, but I am an interested participant. I am a creative writing professor, but I am also a student of writing and always will be. The more I investigate, the more I read, the more I learn. Focusing on this topic has been no exception.
There such an intimate sense of discovery in this novel, narrated by Linda, a teenage girl taken under the wing of a strange family.
Linda guides us through this natural world, the cold woods of Minnesota, both mysterious and beautiful. Her simple descriptions of place always build on a subtle sense of dread in her voice, “The sky between the branches looked like sunburn. It was twenty minutes through the snow and sumac before the dogs heard me and started braying against their chains.”
Linda’s is a vulnerable first-person voice, not in command of her world, but constantly open to its possibilities, for better or worse. As authentic as it gets.
"So delicately calibrated and precisely beautiful that one might not immediately sense the sledgehammer of pain building inside this book. And I mean that in the best way. What powerful tension and depth this provides!" Aimee Bender
Fourteen-year-old Linda lives with her parents in the beautiful, austere woods of northern Minnesota, where their nearly abandoned commune stands as a last vestige of a lost counter-culture world. Isolated at home and an outlander at school, Linda is drawn to the enigmatic, attractive Lily and new history teacher Mr. Grierson. When Mr. Grierson is charged with possessing child pornography, the implications of…
All my life, I’ve struggled with accepting who I am. It’s no secret that the Vietnam War was unpopular in America; as such, I spent my adolescence hiding who I was. Literature like this didn’t exist when I was a kid. If it had, I think I would’ve seen myself differently. As a writer, I explore similar themes in my work and highlight the importance of discussing how our childhood experiences (good and bad) shape us. Uniformity is a destroyer of identity; my mission is to show how loving what makes us different allows us to love the differences we see in others.
April is the kind of character everyone roots for. She’s sixteen and fending for herself after her crappy father abandoned her in a motor home with no engine.
Teens who grow up like April have grit built into their DNA, and when she takes off for a new life, she soars. The problem is, our past has a way of dragging us backward, and seeing April fight to keep the life and friends she’s built is what makes you keep turning the pages. Oh, and also, she has a beautiful skill. April can sing.
Reading this book is akin to watching a flower bloom; you can’t help but be in awe.
Little River, New York, 1994: April Sawicki is living in a motorless motorhome that her father won in a poker game. Failing out of school, picking up shifts at Margo's diner, she's left fending for herself in a town where she's never quite felt at home. When she "borrows" her neighbor's car to perform at an open mic night, she realizes her life could be much bigger than where she came from. After a fight with her dad, April packs her stuff and leaves for good, setting off on a journey to find a life that's all hers.
I’ve always enjoyed reading true stories and stories that feel like they could be true. I enjoy learning about other people’s lives and experiences. If a character’s life experiences have been very different than my own, it is eye-opening and informative. If we’ve had similar experiences it helps me feel less alone. When writing, I usually draw inspiration from my own life experiences. With AWOL, I wanted to share military family culture and help readers affected by PTSD feel less alone.
Mai K. Nguyen pairs really tough topics: grief, loss, and overwhelming emotions with beautiful and soothing artwork and a little bit of magic. When Willow gets upset and runs off into the woods she meets Pilu, a lost wood sprite. Together, Willow and Pilu help each other learn to deal with their emotions and find their way home. I love that the reader can learn alongside the characters without feeling like they are being taught a lesson.
A heartwarming story of friendship, loss, and finding your way home from
debut author/illustrator Mai K. Nguyen!
Willow loves the woods near her
house. TheyaEURO (TM)re calm and quiet, so different from her own
turbulent emotions, which she keeps locked away. When her emotions get the
better of her one day, she decides to run away into the woods.
There, she
meets Pilu, a lost tree spirit who canaEURO (TM)t find her way back
homeaEURO"which turns out to be the magnolia grove
WillowaEURO (TM)s mom used to take her to. Willow offers to help
Pilu, and the two quickly become…
I am an author and illustrator of children's picturebooks, having completed my MA at the Cambridge School of Art. I am endlessly fascinated with the picture book as a rich medium for children to safely and slowly approach topics that might be challenging for them. Picture books can be such a versatile, interesting place for curiosity and confidence to thrive, while also creating a lovely time for closeness between parent/carer and child. As we grapple with the long-term effects of the pandemic, I feel that children will need stories more than ever, to help them make sense of their experiences.
For older readers, The Hideaway blends themes of domestic violence, difficult family life, community, environment, and care together. Besides an unbearable home life, we are shown how Billy, our main character, finds safety and space in the unlikely setting of a graveyard. His relationship with the old man he meets and the careful work they engage in, help maintain the old man's connection with the past, and Billy's connection with the present. Beautifully illustrated by Smy, and written by her also, this book celebrates the graveyard not as a spooky or scary site, but as a special place where we remember, connect with, and love those we have lost.
The wonderful long-awaited second novel from Pam Smy, celebrated author and illustrator of Thornhill.
The Hideaway tells the story of a boy, Billy McKenna, who runs away from a difficult situation at home and takes refuge in an overgrown graveyard. While hiding there he meets an elderly man who is tending the graves in preparation for a day in November when something magical is set to happen.
The book is written in two alternating narratives, both different aspects of the same story. One thread tells of Billy's experience of hiding away in the graveyard, his mixed-up feelings and emotions, and…
I grew up loving sci-fi and fantasy, but especially today, I recognize how a lot of older sci-fi is patriarchal or even misogynistic. When I started to write my own books, like A Dragonbird in the Fern, I vowed to create my fantastical settings as I’d like our world to be someday—with all genders considered equal. Whether it’s a queen wielding all of the power or a witch who can save the world, women and girls in my stories get things done, and no one bats an eye.
The two girls in City of
Shattered Light could not be fiercer! Asa’s a runaway rich girl who flees
home to save her sister, a victim of scientific tests. Riven’s a tough smuggler
gunning for a big bounty to guarantee her a place in one of the city’s
matriarchal (!) crime syndicates. There’s kidnapping, a wild neon sci-fi world,
and a healthy portion of romantic longing. I loved this misfit team!
As darkness closes in on the city of shattered light, an heiress and an outlaw must decide whether to fend for themselves or fight for each other. As heiress to a powerful tech empire, seventeen-year-old Asa Almeida strives to prove she's more than her manipulative father's shadow. But when he uploads her rebellious sister’s mind to an experimental brain, Asa will do anything to save her sister from reprogramming—including fleeing her predetermined future with her sister’s digitized mind in tow. With a bounty on her head and a rogue AI hunting her, Asa’s getaway ship crash-lands in the worst possible…
Bad boys in young adult romance have always been one of my favorite tropes to read. For seven years, I facilitated a poetry workshop with teens in a juvenile detention center and got to hear their stories—the heartbreak, the challenges, and the triumphs under all that bad boy façade. My memoir, Kids in Orange: Voices from Juvenile Detention, is about the workshops and helped me understand both myself as a writer and the “bad boys” who wrote poetry each week. There are a lot of complexities to bad boy characters and the most satisfying stories are the ones where the bad boys redeem themselves and find love.
Pushing the Limits is a can’t put down, read until the middle of the night book. Noah Hutchins is the ultimate bad boy with a tough attitude and soft interior. He knows just how to understand Echo Emerson and what she needs to fall in love again. I loved how a scar was used to show both Echo’s external appearance as well as the internal scar both characters carry. This concept of using a scar as a metaphor was an inspiration for a scene in my memoir, Kids in Orange: Voices from Juvenile Detention.
They say be a good girl, get good grades, be popular. They know nothing about me.
I can't remember the night that changed my life. The night I went from popular to loner freak. And my family are determined to keep it that way. They said therapy was supposed to help. They didn't expect Noah. Noah is the dangerous boy my parents warned me about. But the only one who'll listen. The only one who'll help me find the truth.
I know every kiss, every promise, every touch is forbidden. But what if finding your destiny means breaking all the…
While growing up in Spain, history was not my favorite subject. As told at school, it was a dreadful, long list of kings and battles. But, from time to time, I discovered, among the dry facts, a legend, a romanticized story of an event long past that ignited my imagination. Among these legends, the defeat of the last Visigoth king by the Arabs and the Asturian chieftain Pelayo’s consequent victory over them were my favorites. I believe these two stories, that figure so predominantly in my writing, are behind my love for books full of romance and adventure that take place in ancient worlds, like the ones I recommend here.
When Birle finds Orien stealing a boat by the river that runs through her village, and tries to stop him, she ends up falling in love with the young lord and his disturbing blue eyes.
Despite her infatuation, Birle is no fool. She knows that, as an innkeeper’s daughter, she has no chance to win Orien’s affections, yet she joins him in his ill-planned adventure, for she doubts the pampered lord will survive without her practical skills.
Together they enter a world that’s more dangerous than any of them could have imagined, a world that will bring them together and apart, as the wheel of fortune turns, moving the story to an unexpected, yet satisfying conclusion.
The Tale of Birle is a heartbreaking story of love and courage, that stole my heart from the first page.
There are some who say that the Lady Fortune has a wheel, and all men are fixed upon it. The wheel turns, and the men rise, or fall, with the turning of the wheel. Birle has agreed to be wed to the huntsman Muir as an escape from the drudgery of life at her father's inn -- but the moment she looks into the bellflower blue eyes of the man she comes upon stealing one of her father's boats, Birle knows she cannot marry Muir. Even after she discovers the mysterious stranger is Orien, a Lord and as unreachable to…
