15 books like We Regret to Inform You

This book is fire. For character arcs to work, the main character has to start with a flaw and then fix it by the end, but Kiera, a gaming programmer, is confident about her skills from the beginning.

I love that she knows exactly what her game is about, and she’s not about to let the outside world redefine it incorrectly. The flaw, in this case, is the world’s perception of her game. Today, the gaming world is still heavily male-dominated, so this book about a girl loving her craft, which, in turn, reinforces her confidence, is always high on my list of recommendations.

I know Sunny Dae would be fast friends with my book’s Dakota. Not only would they bond over using power tools for geeky purposes, but they are also both that rare type of 50-50, right brain-left brain maker who brings an artistic flourish to everything they build. I played bass guitar in a garage band during high school, so it was fun watching Sunny (and his reluctant D&D buddies) attempt to become their school’s hottest new band so that he could win the girl. Of course, his lie comes back to bite him hard, but I love a good reinvention story, especially when at least part of the lie eventually becomes the character’s new truth. 

All of Johnson’s books are swoony and awesome, but I love that Jill works in the family business—just like Dakota and Leo do—fixing cars in her family’s auto shop. It’s not something you see a lot of girls doing in YA books, but it makes so much sense in her bigger struggle of being a “fixer” in her everyday life. I have no mechanical skills, but boy, do I relate to trying to fix things that were never really my problem to solve in the first place. Teens with complicated family dynamics will appreciate seeing themselves portrayed in an authentic, nuanced way. Johnson leaves the reader with a powerful but gentle message that when faced with impossible situations, sometimes you need to fix yourself first.      

I wasn’t sure how Cornwell could possibly make a Cinderella retelling fresh and unique, but she did. She roots Nicolette—who her evil stepsisters call Mechanica—deep enough in the classic fairytale that we get all the satisfying beats, but then Cornwell turns them on their head. I love steampunk stories, and Cornwell replaces the Disney-fied animal helpers with mechanical insects and a metal horse fueled by coal and outlawed faery magic. She also addresses some outdated ideas in earlier renditions for a modern twist set in a Victorian-ish time period. Though Nicolette is not the first mechanical Cinderella on the YA bookshelf, Mechanica is not a rip-off of Marissa Meyer’s Cinder. I enjoyed both of them. 

If Young’s focus on just one play seemed hyper-specific, this book takes it a step further by looking at the afterlife of a single character from Hamlet. Deanne Williams and Kaara L. Peterson have brought together chapters looking at Ophelia in painting, photography, film, stage design, and even on social media. The international group of authors looks at Ophelia from different perspectives and demonstrates her connections with the history of women’s physical and mental health. The striking photograph on the cover – Gregory Crewdson’s Untitled (Ophelia) – is a key example of the collection’s scope: it restages a famous nineteenth-century painting of the drowning Ophelia, but sets it in a modern living room. 

Part coming-of-age story, part slice of adult drama and misbehavior, this book impressed itself on my memory with its deceptive sweetness and heart-wrenching likability. It touches on teenaged pregnancy while examining infidelity stemming from a faulty marriage between a likable man and a bitter woman. I loved its honest examination of problematic, complex relationships—husband to wife, and child to adult. It is beautifully drawn, complex, and definitely on my "Books I can Re-Read Endlessly” list.

I have never found a modern-day author who encapsulates the roaring 1920s in such a resplendent as Emmanuelle de Maupassant: the humour, the wit, the descriptions of the Highlands which Emmanuelle knows so well, and of course, the mystery of eccentric relatives who are not what they seem.

I love this trilogy, with more than one unusual marriage...

This criminally overlooked gem of a novel follows Owen Webb, a troubled young man with trouble at home. And the boy he befriends (or more accurately befriends him). Even more trouble. Basketball is Owen's obsession and outlet, and while it simmers in the background of this novel, it's one of the most accurate and lovingly depicted hoops books you'll ever read.

Complicated relationships often exist between teachers and students, but many novels paint one or the other as the enemy. In Wonder Boys, we have a joyous but still complicated friendship between Grady Tripp, a pot-smoking English professor who has lost his way, and his student James Leer, a budding writer who is emotionally troubled. I can relate to both the “going nowhere” middle-aged Grady and the troubled teen, James. The plot devices of the tuba, dead dog, and snake (most of it) that end up in Grady’s trunk somehow provide both gravitas and humor.

Black Brother, Black Brother doesn’t have science as its main focus, unless you consider the sport of fencing as a science. I’m including this book because of the complexity of the sibling relationship. Trey is white, popular, and athletic. Donte is black and bullied at his school. Even though they share the same parents (Civil Rights lawyer mom and, and computer architect dad), their experiences in school and in the world are completely different because of their skin color. Dante finds his place, his confidence, and himself when he takes up fencing with the help of an inspiring coach. 

I am half-Mexican. My siblings present as white, I do not. This story touched on the many complexities faced by siblings who are physically different -- as with me and my siblings, and with the characters in my book.