Fans pick 87 books like The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane

When I was little, I would draw for hours, captivated by the female experience. Art, film, and literature focused on women’s lives have always felt the most compelling to me. Whether it’s gazing at a woman painted centuries ago, watching a film about a woman navigating her time, or reading a book that delves into her inner world, I’m drawn to their stories. Their complexities and imperfections are often what I love most. This lifelong fascination has shaped my career. Whether illustrating fashion, designing book covers, or authoring my own books, the emotions and experiences of female characters inspire me, fuel my creativity, and remind me of the power and importance of their stories.

I am a faith-based psychotherapist with over twenty years of experience working with couples, families, and adults recovering from trauma and relational wounds. I believe in evidence-based psychotherapy modalities, as well as the power of the Holy Spirit, to guide us each to our ultimate healing. I find journeying with others a sacred privilege and strive to foster love, authenticity, courage, and empowerment not only as a therapist but as a friend, wife, mother, and sister.  

I lost my marriage. I lost my dad to cancer, and my mom to Alzheimer’s Disease (and wrote a memoir about it). Along the way, I lost my sense of superiority and entitlement. I gained the ability to laugh at myself and trust God for everything. I found that I was not as important as I had tacitly assumed. I’ve learned Jesus’s words are true: “Whoever loses his life for My sake will find it.” When I see this depicted well in a book, I think, “Thank God for writers who will tell me the truth.” Today, I’m a fiction book coach with a goal of helping writers tell the whole awful, glorious truth.

When I was six years old, my Dutch relatives visited. Stories swirled about their bravery in getting secrets from the Germans and sharing the intel with the Allies, about their privation during the hunger winter, and their work hiding their Jewish countrymen. I studied abroad in 1977-1978 and took the opportunity to visit my Dutch relatives. They told me more stories of their resistance work, their escapades, and, most importantly, their “why” during my time with them. Such stories don’t leave you–ever. They percolated in my head for years until a voice came to me, Rika’s voice, and I began to write. Sixty Blades of Grass is the result.

I’ve always been deeply interested in how people connect to those around them—it is something I write about constantly. My first novel, So Much Love, was about how a community reacts to terrible loss and uncertainty, and my recent book of nonfiction, These Days Are Numbered, is about how my own community—and I—reacted to the Covid-19 pandemic. I am always looking at how humans human, separately and especially together. That is one of the joys of narrative fiction for me—the way we can use it to examine our behaviour and interactions, and how we form relationships and communities. I hope these books enthrall you as much as they did me.

As a shy, dreamy kid, I relied on middle-grade books to learn about the world and feel less alone. That’s why I eventually started writing them. Growing up can be hard. Being grown-up can, too. Fiction can thrill, educate, and stimulate, and I love it for those reasons. But sometimes, I want a book to assure me things are going to be okay. In case you’d forgotten that the world can be scary and unpredictable, the last couple of years probably reminded you. I continue to find comfort in middle-grade books that make my heart feel full, tender, and hopeful. I needed books like these back then, and still need them today.

As a shy, dreamy kid, I relied on middle-grade books to learn about the world and feel less alone. That’s why I eventually started writing them. Growing up can be hard. Being grown-up can, too. Fiction can thrill, educate, and stimulate, and I love it for those reasons. But sometimes, I want a book to assure me things are going to be okay. In case you’d forgotten that the world can be scary and unpredictable, the last couple of years probably reminded you. I continue to find comfort in middle-grade books that make my heart feel full, tender, and hopeful. I needed books like these back then, and still need them today.

As a shy, dreamy kid, I relied on middle-grade books to learn about the world and feel less alone. That’s why I eventually started writing them. Growing up can be hard. Being grown-up can, too. Fiction can thrill, educate, and stimulate, and I love it for those reasons. But sometimes, I want a book to assure me things are going to be okay. In case you’d forgotten that the world can be scary and unpredictable, the last couple of years probably reminded you. I continue to find comfort in middle-grade books that make my heart feel full, tender, and hopeful. I needed books like these back then, and still need them today.

After losing my beloved brother, I came to see the importance of taking risks and pursuing my dreams. What I learned is that with those risks come setbacks, even failure. I’ve lived a life of adventure and I’ve fallen down a lot, but I’ve also learned to get back up and go on. I love reading books about people who have learned resilience by trying, failing, gaining strength and wisdom, and carrying on. This experience is at the heart of what makes us human. It’s what connects us. I hope people who read my memoir will find the encouragement to keep going.

Hello, I am Jennifer Cramer-Miller—an author, speaker, and joy seeker. Thirty-some years ago, at 22, I had a cozy apartment with my best friend and a promising PR position. Then I was diagnosed with an incurable autoimmune kidney disease, and suddenly, doctors discussed my “quality of life.” At a very young age, life’s uncertainty fueled my will to survive. And I’ve learned that life is a mix of beauty and bummers. So as long as we’re alive, we should appreciate all of it. That’s why I’m drawn to books that illuminate what it means to be a human managing uncertainty, holding onto hope, and finding joy.