99 books like New Girl

One of my all-time favourite stories is Romeo and Juliet but since it’s been covered so many times before it rarely feels new. However, Always Never Yours is a strong adaptation of this classic as it provides such an original viewpoint. Megan is definitely no Juliet, she is the one before guys meet their ‘one.’ She’s used to never being chosen and instead focuses on her ambitions in theatre directing. However, to get into her dream college she needs an acting credit. Seeking the comfort of the smallest part in the play, she’s aghast to be cast as Juliet. I love a story that shows us the development of a character and this is a great illustration of that as we follow Megan’s journey of self-discovery and love.

As an archery enthusiast, I always feel a bit Maid Marian when I’m practicing with my bow and arrow! This historical YA reimagining of Robin Hood gives a new perspective on one of our most beloved childhood tales. However, it doesn’t focus on Robin as we’d expect but instead on his teenage daughter as she flees the clutches of King John in search of the father she has never known. Finding herself forced into a world of criminals to search for safety. This is a great adaptation and gives the story a whole new angle which makes it feel brand-new yet still features the beloved characters we’d wish to see. I love that this book allows you to rediscover such a classic story all over again!

Peter Pan has always been a bit of a dark story, I remember as a child being quite concerned about how easy it was to kill Tinkerbell and why Peter needed his shadow stitched back on! Second Star is a modern but dark retelling of this children’s fable, set in sunny California and amongst the surfing community, we follow a 17-year-old Wendy as she searches for her missing brothers. Stepping into a dark world, she finds herself drawn to the Cove’s enigmatic leader Pete but she is also pulled towards his dangerous and drug-dealing nemesis, Jas. This novel shows how a classic can be used as inspiration but the author is still able to make the story their own and I always enjoy reading that.

Hands up who wasn’t in a play of Oliver Twist at school! This is such a classic and theatre favourite which I remember starring in twice. But this is a truly modern and interesting reimagining of a Dicken’s masterpiece. Olivia is an orphan, strong and independent but with wounds from her many years within the care system. When her computer skills are noticed she is recruited to Syke’s hacker gang of cyber thieves which masquerades as a home for unwanted children. Each chapter starts with a quote from the original which foreshadows the events to come and provides a nice correlation between this version and the original. I really love how endearing the characters can be despite their flaws. This adds a really nice dimension to the story.

This book follows the main characters and their journey through finding young love, dealing with loss, and becoming resilient to what life throws them. The art in this book is a wonderful blend of fantasy and science fiction.

I love how the story plops you into the world but doesn’t explain how everything works. Stories without info dumps make me feel like the author trusts their characters, and visuals can stand alone. 

Chocolates for Breakfast was frequently compared to Bonjour Tristesse and Moore was called “the American Sagan.” Like Sagan, Moore was only eighteen when she wrote the bestselling novel. Written in the third person, it tells the story of a young woman’s sexual exploration and her feelings of depression. Courtney, a child of divorce, moves from her posh Connecticut boarding school to Beverly Hills when her depression keeps her from performing at school. She grapples with her mother, a down-on-her-heels alcoholic actress; explores her sexuality with both a gay male actor and an older straight manager in Hollywood; then relocates to New York where she drifts through cocktail parties, having affairs, until her best friend Janet commits suicide. Like Bonjour Tristesse, the novel flirts with existentialism but ultimately adopts a more hopeful tone as Courtney matures and aims to create meaning in her life.

Friendship and navigating school social hierarchy is hard enough, but throw in a secret queer relationship and a bootleg anime dvd business? Yikes!

What I love about Forest Hills Bootleg Society is how messy it is; these girls have PROBLEMS. Of course they do, they’re teens. This graphic novel is so funny and relatable at times, while at other points, it’s heartbreaking. This especially speaks to me as a former anime-teen! 

We Run the Tides is a coming-of-age novel told through the eyes of Eulabee, a young girl growing up in the upscale Sea Cliff neighborhood of San Francisco in the 1980s.

The novel tells the story of the mysterious disappearance of Eulabee’s classmate from her toney private school and its impact on her group of friends. The story wonderfully captures the complicated relationships of young teen girls grabbling with identity, truth, and lies. Vida’s lyrical prose is filled with wit and attention to eclectic details in both her descriptions of San Francisco and the characters that she creates.

Jaye Robin Brown writes complex characters with a deft hand and everyone in this book felt deeply real to me. I didn’t just read about Jess and Vivi’s relationship. I joined Jess on her tumultuous emotional journey. As a mental health counselor, I often encourage people to seek out coping mechanisms to manage adversity, but it’s important to realize that sometimes the thing that made a person whole is inaccessible after trauma or loss, and that healing means forging new paths. This story captures that idea beautifully. Heart-wrenching, but ultimately a story of hope and renewal.

Despite high school freshman Melinda’s refusal to speak, I was immediately drawn into this contemporary (1999) novel by the pitch-perfect, first-person voice in which she tells her poignant story.

Melinda isn’t abandoned on a desolate island like Karana or exiled to a barren cave like Ayla but shunned by her friends after busting an end-of-summer party by calling the cops; her refusal to speak renders Melinda similarly isolated and remote.

I especially admire the way Anderson’s deft narration plays out the paradox of silence giving voice to revelation. As Melinda comes to terms with her devastating secret—having been raped by an upperclassman—she finally speaks up and breaks her silence.