Love The Boundless? Readers share 100 books like The Boundless...

To put this on a list of gay coming-of-age graphic novels feels potentially like a spoiler, but in the hopes that I’ll convince at least one other person to read this near-perfect book, I’ll take the risk!

A decade after its publication, few, if any, graphic novelists have managed to match the quality of this brilliantly written, elegantly drawn, subtly rendered, and wonderfully atmospheric book about two girls whose sexualities start to manifest during a summer vacation with their families.

Mariko and Jillian Tamaki are always brilliant, but this book remains, in my opinion, their best work.

Okay, okay, I realize that using webbing isn’t an actual way to get around, but neither is my digger. And I wouldn’t be a reader, writer, or artist today if it hadn’t been for Spider-Man. Young Kevin spent every day imagining the freedom of spinning a web and flying through the air. Even though I grew up in a small town with two steeples and a three-story inn, it was a captivating idea.

And wow does this version of the story kick things up a notch. I mean, I already love the Miles Morales version of Spidey, but Reynolds kicks it all up a notch or five. He has such a deft hand as a storyteller with a message. Never preachy, but deeply felt and funny (sort of like a super-hero version of Jerry Kraft’s New Kid) this was a ride. 

And a cover pic by Khadir Nelson? Sign… show more.

One of my kid-lit heroes, and clearly a writer/illustrator who grew up (like me) with a love for the vehicles we saw in science fiction. He has Eva Nine and her pals (and enemies) flying around in ships that are clearly inspired by pod-racers, x-wing fighters, the Millennium Falcon, and Flash Gordon. (Then, as the series goes on, we even get airships!)

But the thing that anchors the series is the wonderfully drawn characters. Eva Nine is all of us as kids… eager to break away but also tied to the adults around us. That tension between knowing when to hold on and knowing when it’s time to say goodbye is what really kept me with her on her journey.

I wear two hats. In addition to being a children’s book writer, I’m also the executive copy editor at Random House Books for Young Readers. I had the good fortune recently to work on a new novel from R. J. Palacio, of Wonder fame. It’s a one-of-a-kind Western that seamlessly and skillfully melds the material and the supernatural worlds. And it’s beautifully written and filled with heart-stopping suspense and iconic characters. Pony, a mysterious horse, leads a boy, Silas, on an epic quest to rescue his father from desperadoes. This haunting, deeply moving coming-of-age tale stayed with me long past its completion.

This book should be made into a movie! Yes, it is written by two legal historians and yes, it is about a court case, but it reads like a thriller. Great characters, twists and turns in the plot, prime ministers, feisty ladies, the whole nine yards. It is the story of how a British court decided that women were “persons” and thus could be appointed to the Canadian Senate. At the time, only certain “persons” were eligible and only men were considered “persons.” It is not about eugenics, but the events take place around 1929 and the authors do a great job of explaining what Canadian society was like then. This helps us appreciate why the ground was so fertile for eugenic ideas and why women like the “persons” involved in the story were also eugenicists.

The gold standard source for what life was like for the hardy souls arriving in Upper Canada in the early 19th century. Although writing from a position of relative privilege, Moodie writes of hardships and deprivations that make the modern reader blanch. We wonder whether we could have survived what she and her family endure.  She writes with richness and great humanity so that we can vividly imagine what it must have been like for her to be taken from the relatively comfortable life she’d known and to make a life in the bush.  Despite her trials and tribulations, she comes to have a great love for the beauty and wildness of her adopted home.

I loved this book because I loved the characters. Richards invested them with dignity even when they were flawed or endlessly frustrated by fate. They can go through life largely unnoticed except by their closest acquaintances and relatives. But they offer hope despite their failures and tragedies.

This was the first novel in Richards’ Miramichi Trilogy. It and the two subsequent novels, plus much of Richards’ later work, create a strong sense of the province of New Brunswick, even when the characters have a universal quality.

Canadian immigration policy has always been a subject of fierce political and public debate and in this authoritative work Ninette Kelley and Michael Trebilcock examine the interests, ideas, institutions, and rhetoric that have shaped it. The authors begin their study in the pre-Confederation period and interpret major developments in the evolution of Canadian immigration policy. Among the shameful episodes they describe are the deportations of the First World War and Great Depression and the uprooting and internment of Japanese Canadians after Pearl Harbour.

Gabby Petito. Natalee Holloway. Laci Peterson. These names probably sound familiar. Lauren Cho, Stephany Flores, and Latoyia Figueroa might not. This illustrates what news anchor Gwen Ifill dubbed “missing white woman syndrome,” the disproportionate media coverage in missing persons cases that attractive, upper-middle-class white women receive.

McDiarmid’s moving book illustrates this phenomenon, following the cases of thousands of Indigenous women who have disappeared from a stretch of road in British Columbia dubbed “The Highway of Tears.” For decades, the cases garnered little media attention until a white woman named Nicole Hoar disappeared in 2002, bringing more resources and coverage.

In painstaking detail, this immersive and necessary book follows several of these previously ignored women’s lives, illustrating the systemic issues that failed the victims and their loved ones.

This book dovetails with those of Kitnick as well as Sharma and Singh. While framed by a broader concern with the emergence of the Toronto School of Communication, it gives particular attention to how McLuhan’s notions about “information art,” came to influence artistic practice through initiatives such as “N.E. Thing and Company” (NETCO), Robert Smithson’s West Coast work and “General Idea.” Echoing some of the issues raised by the Sharma/Singh collection, he examines these ventures through the lens of power and gender. It is impeccably edited and handsomely illustrated, in line with the high production standards of McGill-Queen’s University Press.