Fans pick 100 books like Shrek!

The only book you need! Compiled over several short stories, you can pack just this one book with you on a trip and be set for your entire trip. It is so fun to have short stories as an option—you can read one if the baby is tired or five if the baby needs time to wind down before bedtime.

Crockett Johnson worked as a cartoonist for Collier’s before his strip Barnaby first appeared in newspapers in 1942. He illustrated a couple of children’s books in the 1940s, before writing and drawing his minimalist ode to the power of creativity, Harold and the Purple Crayon.

He’d do six more books about Harold, but for my money the best is the second one, in which Harold visits a castle, and has to do all sorts of creative problem solving to defeat a witch. The ending – in which Harold returns home and asks his mother to read him a story – is a cozy happily ever after.

This book is not about supply chain, but it is about dragons, and it definitely talks about a behind-the-scenes phenomenon that we see in the world. This is one of those lessons-wrapped-in-a-story books that I think are so effective… you don’t know you’re learning a universal truth about human nature until it jumps up cutely and breathes fire in your face.

In this case, the truth is that refusing to recognize the reality of an unpleasant situation will only make it worse. It’s better to name the dragon in the room and discuss it courageously instead of making blanket statements about why it doesn’t and can’t exist. At the end of the day, acknowledging our shared reality and talking about our struggles is something we can all get better at... because we, like dragons, just want to be seen.

A fact lost in their massive success in children’s books is that Stan and Jan Berenstain started as cartoonists.

In the 1940s and 1950s their work appeared in the likes of the Saturday Evening Post, Collier’s, and McCall’s, and they had a series of best-selling “cartoon essay” books. Their famous bears debuted in 1962 as part of Beginner Books, a line created by Theodor “Dr. Seuss” Geisel, Helen Palmer Geisel, and Phyllis Cerf.

With 1978’s The Spooky Old Tree, The Berenstains created the quintessential early reader, using repetition and predictability, prepositional phrases, rich visuals, and high drama to captivate their young audience (and their parents). “Do they dare? Yes. They dare.”

No one, and I do mean no one, can craft a sentence like Larry Doyle.

What Usagi Yojimbo is to a katana, Doyle is to the English language, building statements that manage to at once stretch the imagination but be immediately recognizable. Doyle will describe a feeling, an instant, a moment that is universal in words you’ve never seen strung together.

On top of that, this book is a hilarious romp in an alternate history with monsters and mad science, and it manages to pull off one of the most incredible narrative twists I’ve ever seen.

There is nothing more fun than a rag-tag group of kids living in a tree house and battling monsters, zombies, and whatever else bleeds into their dimension.

Max Brallier does an amazing job of tapping into a middle grader’s pituitary. What he squeezes out is a thrilling and hilarious roller-coaster of an adventure. Just writing this makes me want to take the ride all over again. And I didn’t even mention the art yet either.

Douglas Holgate draws monsters so cool, that they are often drool inducing. Seriously. Do a Google search if you don’t believe me.

It always seemed unfair to me that not only do we get just one life, but we only get to live it once. So I fell in love with this novel from the moment I read its premise: Ursula Todd is born and dies and is born again… and again… and again.

I love that she doesn’t remember her previous lives except as vague intuitions that help her avoid making the same mistakes twice–and I also love that avoiding those mistakes often means she makes other (often fatal) mistakes. I found this book funny, moving, and thought-provoking, but what I love most about it is the way its down-to-earth, realistic style allowed me to fully inhabit the impossible conceit at its heart. 

This is the second book in the Guards sequence, but it’s easy enough to start here. This detective story set in the sprawling, smelly metropolis of Ankh-Morpork, featuring dwarves, werewolves, and (occasionally) humans, is a laugh-out-loud and anarchic book, managing to be hugely joyous and page-turningly compelling at the same time. Insanely silly and utterly real, with characters so solid you can see (or in some cases, smell) them long after you turn the last page.

Skippy Dies is nearly 700 pages long, but I wished it had been longer, it was that fun to read. It’s both tragically sad and laugh-out-loud funny—a difficult feat for any writer to pull off, and Irish novelist Paul Murray does so brilliantly. I’m not giving away anything by saying that the protagonist dies—after all, he dies in the book’s title—but I won’t reveal how or the circumstances. Let’s just say that if you are a diminutive, shy, buck-toothed 14-year-old at an all-boys boarding school in Dublin and somehow manage to develop a crush on the girlfriend of an older, drug-dealing, violent bully…well, things can’t turn out good. The cast of characters—the teenagers, the teachers, the school principal—are wonderfully drawn. Murray’s dialogue captures the boasting machismo as well as the angsty insecurities of teenage boyhood. A real gem.

Since I was ten, my parents insisted I watch every major party-political convention. So, it was no surprise that now as an adult political junkie, I devoured every page of this book. I loved the what-ifs the book translated to in today’s political picture.

I marveled at how author Dorsey deftly took the unquestioning tool of the powerful special interests incumbent Florida Governor and transformed him into a candidate with a conscience three weeks before the next election. I gave a standing ovation to Dorsey, who used zippy dialog and a fast-paced plot to hysterically make mincemeat of the hypocritical, holier-than-thou morals of an alley cat displayed by state party officials.