Fans pick 100 books like Orange Crush

As someone who has lived for several decades in a resort area that relies exclusively on tourists to survive, it was no shock that I was all over Carl Hiaasen’s book like white is to rice. I loved how biting humor could shine a light on the dark side of tourism and the impact it had on the locals.

Hiaasen’s debut book is a fast-paced masterpiece that focuses on protecting the Sunshine State from greedy, corrupt characters. I found myself in the unique role of rooting for Eco-terrorists, trying to scare builders away from further developing South Florida by murdering tourists and snowbirds. 

I’ve always marched to the beat of my own drum, so naturally, a fish-out-of-water coming-of-age laugh-out-loud comedy replete with a zany cast, spot-on dialog, and an unlikely hero had me from page one.

People go to Key West for different reasons…magnificent sunsets, key lime pie, to commune with the ghost of Hemingway…The unlikely hero of this cleverly plotted book went to Key West to become a gangster. I led the cheers and gave him a zillion attaboys for standing up for himself and not allowing anyone to rain on his parade. 

Maybe it’s because, as a woman who worked in a historically male-dominated industry, I always root for the underdog—be it a newbie with the chutzpah to say no to a pushy buyer or a small town fighting off a huge conglomerate. Give me a character who is a caricature of an amusement park scion, dialog dripping with sarcasm, and a zany plot that spits in the eye of corporate America.

I led the applause as S. V. Date gleefully poked fun at the greediness of big business while indicting a state government that, for a price, was more than happy to go along for the ride.

I bet it’s because I lived on a houseboat for ten years that this hilarious book grabbed me by the sea legs and never let me go. Nothing tickles my funny bone more than a group of people who have nothing in common and are thrown together on a boat out to sea but going in circles.

The antics of this ship of fools on a gambling boat who are seemingly clueless as to the ship’s nefarious real business make for a madcap tale of side-splitting laughter. 

I love being in the Everglades of South Florida. I love the crazy characters and their wild pursuits of making money. There are a lot of 70s musical references and nostalgia for the reader.

One could really believe this may be based on true events because, after all, it’s Florida. 

Shrek! was a book before it was ever a wildly successful film franchise, but the book bears almost no resemblance to the movies.

Yes, William Steig’s ogre is both vile and reviled, and he has a donkey for a friend, but the story itself is very straightforward, detailing Shrek’s rampage across the countryside on his way to meet a “stunningly ugly princess” with whom he can live “horribly ever after.”

Steig had been a celebrated New Yorker cartoonist for almost four decades when he produced his first children’s book in 1968. He wrote and drew Shrek! when he was in his early 80s. He breaks the cardinal rule of using simple language, but makes up for it with fun-to-read-aloud choices in vocabulary and sentence structure, such as “The irascible dragon was preparing to separate Shrek from his noggin.”

My newspaper comic strip had just finished its run, and I was looking for my next big thing. That’s when I came across Diary of a Wimpy Kid.

The drawings were simple and hilarious, and the clever writing didn’t seem to be just for kids. Greg Heffley has this flawed prickly everyman edge which makes him easy to identify with. But as good as this book and series are, I was more impressed with the new way Jeff Kinney had found to sneak comics into chapter books. 

There’s nothing childish about this rip-roaring fantasy adventure. I loved it long before Brandon Sanderson became a household name. While the book is steeped in whimsy, it sidesteps the pitfalls that render most Middle-Grade books inaccessible to adults. With realistic character motivations, a (strangely plausible) explanation for how all librarians could be secretly evil, and a cohesive magic system that could stand right beside any of Sanderson’s adult offerings.

I especially loved the way the book sucks the reader in with its deftly executed frame story. There are layers upon layers of storytelling here. I loved that, and I am not embarrassed to say it.

One of my favorite characters in this middle-grade mystery has always been Chris Theodorakis, the teen boy with an unnamed neurological condition that confines him to a wheelchair and, for the most part, to his house.

Even if he can’t leave home—and even if people often look away from him when he does—Chris plays a key role in solving the mystery at the heart of the book by being a keen observer of everything that passes in front of his window. I love how this novel depicts Chris’s inner world to young readers, including his awareness of how his condition affects others’ perceptions.

More importantly, it shows how much people with disabilities and illnesses still have to offer. 

I love to read this as the school year is beginning. Children can identify with feeling different on the first day of school.

I love how Penelope (the main character who happens to be a T Rex) is blithely oblivious to the impact she has on the students around her. The tables are turned when she crosses paths with a hungry goldfish.