80 books like The Witch's Boy

Puck is doing all she can to keep her and her brothers together after their parents die from an attack by bloodthirsty waterhorses surrounding their island home of Thisby. I admire how this one fantastical element changes a ‘normal’ life to an ‘otherworldly’ one, and makes the island a strong character in the story. Raising and racing waterhorses is Thisby’s livelihood, and dire circumstances lead to Puck competing for the annual Scorpio Race prize money as the first girl to race, against great odds by riding her beloved island pony. 

I love the feel of the small Thisby and its quaint community of characters. Some are mercenary, some tough, but, like Puck and love-interest Sean, most love the wild nature of the ocean and waterhorses, which is magic to me.

I just read this book—it’s been in my TBR pile since 2004—and it’s why I chose the theme of siblings. I loved the voice of this novel, the narrator’s young outsider perspective, her humour and heart—Daisy is such an unexpected character to tell a war story through. But what I loved most about the book is the sibling vibe in the house of her cousins. Edmond, Piper, Osbert, and Isaac—each of them is who she/he is because of their siblings. You could remove one from the plot (well, not Edmond!) but the others wouldn’t be themselves anymore. We feel that through Daisy’s thin bones: these people belong to each other, and maybe she could belong there too. 

For me, this picture book captures how childhood is both magical and terrifying.

For a younger brother, summer becomes a series of rules to navigate within a surreal landscape peopled only by unpredictable monsters and his big brother, who makes the rules. This imagined world, where stepping on a snail can conjure a tornado, feels strangely authentic and satisfying.

Each time I read this book, I’m fascinated again.

There are thousands of siblings in this book—the offspring of a single queen ant are siblings, aren’t they?—and they are most definitely understated. There are humans in the book too, but it’s the ants that interest me, and their sense of relationship to each other. This is one of my favourite novels. It’s beautifully imagined, and so full of fascinating facts that I can never retain them all, so I need to read it again and again. I tried to choose contemporary titles for this list; this is the oldest, from the 1990s, set in the near future, which we’re now living in. 

Written in poetic verse, this novel is captivating, clever, and emotional. I love it when a book is written with so much emotion that I have to wipe away the tears. Yes, I cried. Alexander combined sport with heart, and this book has depth, and covers so much more than basketball. The family scenes are realistic and powerful.

I love a good underdog story, and what better underdog is there an unwanted tweenager? Lisa wrote the Unwanteds as a fantastical answer to the loss of arts programs in public schools. In her story, set on the island of Quill, artistic tendencies are suppressed and those who fail to hide it are banished to (well, no spoilers). But if you love a good magical boarding school tale of friends, traitors, and new abilities, this series is for you.  

Collins’ The Family Plot is set Blackburn Island, off the coast of Rhode Island where the Lighthouse Family lived in a secluded mansion deep in the woods and isolated by their true-crime-obsessed parents.

After her twin brother disappears when they are sixteen, Dahlia leaves home at the earliest opportunity, returning years later after her father’s death. When the family goes to bury him, there is already a body in his grave—her brother’s.

The layered family drama, secrets, and one hell of a twist make this the kind of story I love—layered with tension and impossible to put down. 

Wow. The voice in this book takes my breath away. I’ve never read anything else quite like it.

There’s a plot full of adventure, tragedy, and healing, but mostly, there is Rueben Land and his sister Swede, two of the most compelling characters in literature. The story begins with a miracle when Rueben’s father commands his newly stillborn son to breathe.

Questions about miracles, hope, faith, and redemption pepper the story with no easy answers, again asking: What does it mean to be human? That’s a question all great literature grapples with.

This book damn near ticked every single box I have when it comes to what I love in a novel. 

A complex and conflicted addict as the main character? Check. Regrets? Check. Deep childhood friendships? Check. An evil magician and a creepy carnival? Check and check.

Black Mouth is dark and intense, and even though it plunges straight into the supernatural, it’s very much grounded in the real world. A world full of pain, heartache, loss, and broken people. 

It also features a character with a disability, and he’s drawn with such love and tenderness that I can’t help but think more novels would benefit from disability representation. The character of Dennis is often seen most clearly in the way others interact with him, revealing much about the kindness or cruelty of the other characters. 

A special book that I didn’t so much read as live inside. 

Long a favorite of mine, every couple of years I enjoy returning to this book about two brothers who fall in with a group of Venetian street children and the young master-thief who oversees them. Funke's classic, assured style grants this relatively contemporary novel (first published in Germany in 2000) a charming, old-fashioned sensibility, while the pacing and characterization should appeal to the most modern of readers, at least to my eyes. The book has everything I love in stories for young readers–mystery, magic, friendship, and startling plot twists–and the interior illustrations done by Funke herself are lovely.