Fans pick 44 books like The House at Pooh Corner

I adore this book about a rambunctious, but lovable, dog named Broccolli who lives at an animal shelter, awaiting his perfect home. Beautifully illustrated, and written with a good dose of humor, readers will love following Broccolli’s antics as he shows off his many clever (but loud) skills. How will he ever find a home? Broccolli shows us there is a perfect match for every one of us. And that we don’t need to be perfect to be perfectly loved.

This is the middle-grade novel that I so wish I had written. Kate DiCamillo is the best kids’ author writing today, and I devour everything she writes. She really gets kids, and Winn Dixie is my favorite dog in books.

The story of ten-year-old Opal and her found dog, Winn Dixie, makes me laugh, want to snuggle my dog, cry and reach out to hug motherless Opal every time I read it (usually once a year). I love the remarkably imperfect people Opal and her dog befriend, and the language is rich and authentic to the story. This is an unforgettable story about making a home for yourself against the odds.

A perfect book to celebrate summer and the magic of nature. Nicky is not eager to vacation at his grandmother’s country home. But nature and the animals have a different plan. And when the two find each other among the banks of a peaceful river, a delightful friendship unfolds. I love this book for its beauty, sense of peace, and quiet adventure. Surrounded by the splendor of nature is a call to come home, to quiet our minds and to see the world as animals do. With the animals to inspire him, Nicky not only discovers a talent for art but a reverence for the world around him.    

Whenever I read this book’s opening lines, I sink under the author’s magic spell.

Forget Faulkner, forget Joyce, try Grahame’s poetic prose. When Grahame wrote this, the whole idea of writing books for kids was still fresh, and the idea of anthropomorphic animals was novel, too. The book is so good it still seems like something new under the sun. 

If you don’t have a child available, pretend that a wise, kind adult is reading the book to you.

Growing up, I was enchanted by Jill Barklem’s detailed watercolour illustrations of this miniature world of mice. The cosy, fire-lit interiors—crammed with furniture, food and flora—are so intricately drawn as to give you the feeling you could walk through them.

Barklem also makes liberal use of one of my favourite devices for visual exploration: the cutaway. It’s used to excellent effect here as the mice carve out even more real estate under the snow, namely an Ice Hall for their winter ball.

These illustrations instilled in me a love of detailed artwork, and faithful rendering of a three-dimensional environment, that persists to this day in my own style.

One reason I love snow so much is the way it muffles the world, making everything soft and fuzzy around the edges.

The essence of that feeling is distilled perfectly in Lewis’s beautifully-lit pastel and pencil illustrations, squeezing so much colour into every inch—even of “white” snow.

It’s a lovely story about a little boy taking responsibility for his action. I love a children’s book with a final illustration that undercuts the sentimentality of any preceding message, and this does that hilariously.  

This story is a great exploration of FOMO for young children.

Two best friends are split apart when one moves a long way away. Herman the bear feels increasingly left behind and obsolete when he reads Henry the racoon’s correspondence (actual letters pasted into the book) describing new friends in his sunny new home. Herman feels too miserable to write back; when he finally does, deep snow has set in and the post office has closed for the winter.

So he sets off into the swirling blizzard to deliver the letter himself—up steep cliffs and frozen waterfalls, over creaking crevices and the tallest mountains, all gorgeously painted by Percival in a perfect balance of three-dimensionality and looseness. At the end, the pictures do the talking: Herman and Henry are still best friends.

Like millions of others, I grieved when the magnificent Calvin & Hobbes cartoon strip came to an end. So, this last published collection was one to savour.

I loved how Bill Watterson would draw snowy scenes, bringing them to life with a few ragged strokes of India ink, and there are few better examples than the last strip he ever created, which closes this book.

“Everything familiar has disappeared! The world looks brand new!… It’s like having a big sheet of white paper to draw on!” declares Hobbes (that connection with an un-started picture’s potential is one reason I find snow so visually compelling).

“A day full of possibilities!” replies Calvin. “It’s a magical world, Hobbes, ol’ buddy…”

The final huge panel sees them launch into the expanse of white on their sled, whose tracks trace the topography with glorious minimalism: “… Let’s go exploring!”

What an end to ten… show more.

I love books that show children (and adults) how to get along with others who look and live differently from them.

The relationships in the Pooh stories go well beyond a bear and a boy. The other characters are more than just different animals—each has a unique personality. There are many Pooh picture books to choose from, but I like the classic version.

I was thinking of Winnie-The-Pooh when I wrote my series. Not the specific stories or characters but the tone of the stories and the feelings they evoke. As a child, the Pooh stories fostered curiosity, calmness, and kindness. Read any Pooh story and see if you, too, feel the zen.

A group of toys discarded by their former owners get together to find a new home and someone to love them. I love this book because it shows children that they need to take responsibility for taking care of their possessions. By personifying these toys, kids learn how easily a friend or loved one’s feelings can be hurt. It helps them learn about empathy and compassion. Readers get the message that respecting feelings and the rights of others is a desirable trait.