Fans pick 100 books like Vampirita and the Angry Mob

I was all in on this one from the first chapter. I just love books about characters with secret double lives! I also enjoy stories that fly against gender stereotypes, and that’s what Princess Magnolia’s alter-ego, The Princess in Black, definitely does.

And the monsters that this atypical superhero fights are hilarious, partly because of how they are illustrated and partly because of their naivete and caveman-style way of talking. Because they are hilarious, and also, perhaps, because their most sinister desire is just to eat goats, they are successful villains without being remotely scary, which is nice.

This is also the beginning of a series with many installments, so once my daughter was hooked, she had a great pile of reading material to entertain her for hours and hours.

The voice of this book hooked me right away—the main character, Bea, is hilariously self-deprecating and quirky; I felt immediately connected to her. Plus, I tend to love epistolary books, meaning books that are structured in the form of letters, or this case, a diary with lots of fun cross-outs, footnotes, and lists. Even saying the word ‘epistolary’ is fun!

I was also charmed by the setting—a school for witches, which Bea’s charming, absent-minded-professor-type dad has accidentally enrolled her in. It has witchy trademarks like flying brooms, levitation spells, and rebellious magic wands.

And I was compelled to read to the end because I wanted to find out how Bea would fit in with a bunch of witches when she was a regular kid!

To be honest, I don’t normally like fairy tale retellings. I like my stories to be brand new. But this one won me over with hilarity. It is full of eccentric characters and laugh-out-loud moments, making the narrative feel fresh. Not to mention, there are so many original twists and turns, that by the end, there’s only a smidge of the Sleeping Beauty tale left hiding in the adventure.

This is another story where the princess does the rescuing, which I like, and we discover that many villains can actually be pretty sweet if they’re treated with respect. There’s also a wise guinea pig character, which is a big bonus for me as a guinea pig owner. With all of its wonderful irreverence, I wasn’t expecting it to end with as much heart as it did, but this book gives you the whole package. 

This is one of the books my daughter kept in bed with her while she slept in third grade—she was obsessed with it. This obsession was totally understandable to me, as I also went through a big sticker phase as a child. So, stickers that magically come to life? What could be more engaging than that?

I love how this book tackles a lot of normal elementary school struggles, like making new friends and conquering your nerves during a class presentation, but it does so with the added fun and excitement of a pink Pegasus sticker jumping off the paper and flying into the sky.

The best part of the book for me, though, is the main character’s sticker sidekick—a blunt and snarky talking cupcake named Craig. He’s too cute!

I had been wanting to read this book for a while. Then I read this book. Then I realized I needed to revise my book. Then I reread the book. Then I researched Natalie Scenters- Zapico because I think I fell in love.

If you are a word nerd like me, this is for you.

Every country has its own way of naming its suburbs, and often more than one way. Do-it-yourself settlements in the desert around Lima, Peru were barriadas until the government decided that pueblos jovenes or “young towns” sounds better.

Turkish gecekondu for new neighborhoods translates as “built over night.” The bidonvilles of North Africa are literally “tin can towns.” I won’t kid you, the chapters are written by academics, but they take you on a tour of improvised settlements around the world.

I first read this one in high school, and to say it blew me away is an understatement. Five people in sixteenth-century Peru die in a bridge collapse, and a devout Catholic priest sets out to see why—what about God’s plan for the world can be discerned from an examination of why these five, and no others, died that day.

This book's impact on my worldview was enormous: how we take what we experience and use it to make sense of our world. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve reread it, and it still strikes me to the heart every time.

Few scholars possess the ability to take complex historical situations and present them in a manner that is equal parts educational, palatable, and engaging. Brooke Larson is one of those rare talents. When I was in graduate school, I devoured Larson’s Cochabamba, and soon found myself looking to get my hands on anything authored by her. Needless to say, I was eager to read Trials of Nation Making when it was released. I was not disappointed. This wonderfully engaging history examines the role that race and ethnicity played in the framing, founding, and forming of Andean republics, where Creole elites sought to solve the so-called “Indian Problem.” But this is no top-down history. As Larson masterfully illustrates, Indigenous historical actors employed a range of strategies—from legal action to open rebellion—to demand participation in nation-making processes.  

María Elena Moyano is perhaps the most fascinating Latin American historical figure you haven’t heard of. A Black activist, feminist, and community organizer, Moyano led a brave and suicidal campaign for peace against the Shining Path, a fearsome guerrilla group that brought Peru to its knees in the 1980s and early 90s. Moyano describes, in her own beautiful prose, her meteoric rise as a champion of the urban poor, political leader, and women’s rights warrior. She speaks candidly of her repudiation of the “terror of the Shining Path,” and of the group’s obsession with smearing her good name. Diana Miloslavic’s illustrative annotations help further humanize Moyano and contextualize her sacrifice, offering a moving portrait of the woman popularly known as “Mother Courage.”

A Parrot Without a Name is the tale of a quest as primitive and compelling as any grail search from medieval legend. It’s the story of John O’Neill and Theodore Parker, two of the 20th century’s most accomplished birders and ornithologists, and their pursuit of the least known and most elusive birds in the whole of South America. Parker, whose death in a small plane crash in the Ecuadorian mountains cut off one of the most famous and unique escapades in birding – he ended up knowing and recording the calls of more than 4000 bird species – shows up as a colorful character with all the quirks of other great scientific iconoclasts such as Alan Turing and Robert Oppenheimer.