The best books about girls

It’s one thing to tell young girls (and women...and men and boys) to “be” more confident. To have confidence in themselves and their abilities. Easy to say. Harder to do. Living the Confidence Code bridges that divide in extraordinary fashion. I love how this is a compilation of real girls sharing their real stories of risk-taking, successes, and failures – and, most importantly to me – sharing their thought processes on why they did a certain thing or reacted a certain way. A very engaging and informative book. Empty platitudes are gone and what remains are relatable stories providing multiple templates for finding – and building – your own inner confidence. 

The popularity of The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie may have obscured its structural genius.

Never have I read a book so comfortable drifting between present and future within a single paragraph, even a single sentence. The short novel simultaneously exists inside a classroom in the 1930s and throughout the lives the students will later have as women.

If the Scottish author Muriel Spark had a literary model for this design, I’ve yet to discover it. Sometimes an artist creates something entirely new.

I’m not a feminist and I don’t feel oppressed as a woman. But after reading this book, I’m glad that Elizabeth Cady Stanton hosted the first Women’s Rights Convention in 1858. The young protagonist, Bridie, has experienced some of the wrongs that Mrs. Stanton tries to put right. I enjoyed getting to know the famous activist through Bridie’s eyes. Bridie flees from a cruel master and finds work with “the strangest lady she’s ever met”. Mrs. Stanton comes across as a down-to-earth woman, not the crusader type at all. I laughed at the detail of the two young Stanton boys romping through the cabbages. Kudos to the author for including other events and issues for context—the Irish potato famine, poorhouses, the Free Soil Party, the Erie Canal, and the Underground Railroad. Young ladies will appreciate their privileges after reading this novel.

When I read the first line of this book, “It’s harder to drive a polar bear into somebody’s living room than you’d think,” I knew I had stumbled upon something good.

And I was right. How can you not love a book that starts with a polar bear being driven into a living room? How can you not want to keep reading to find out why exactly this polar bear is being driven into a living room? I rest my case.  

On School Sports Day, an exuberant girl is already planning her celebration because she knows she is going to win. When she loses several competitions to another girl, she is anything but gracious as she makes excuses and decides sports aren’t her thing. She wants trophies and ribbons so she competes in a spelling bee and dance contest and loses – to the same competitor! Our narrator is mad but when she sees her nemesis lose and happily congratulate the winner, she begins to understand that winning isn’t everything.

Filled with humor and whimsy, this is a book where children can easily identify good and bad sportsmanship as they come to realize that doing their best is what really matters. It also shows that everyone has special talents – they just need to practice to get better.

This book was a hidden gem for me. I found this on a dusty shelf in an old bookstore and was instantly in love with its whimsical drawings. The simplicity of color use and a narrative are told only through its illustrations. Intended for young adult readers, however, this book really is for all dreamers of ages. 

I love that this book encourages girls to be ambitious, speak up, and be confident. I think that when girls are shamed into silence, false meekness, or restrained by pointless societal conventions, everyone loses. In this book, Harris’ main character won’t be deterred by damaging words that try to label her “too loud, too assertive, etc.” just because she’s a girl. She is encouraged to tell the world who she is, not the other way around. My choices and my voice are precious to me and I am painfully aware that not all females have these truly precious things.

In a post-apocalyptic world run by an oppressive American empire, we find Little Bird hiding in a hole. Though her mother was a great leader of the rebellion, Little Bird has found herself very lost, in a very cruel world - and she just might be the last chance that the freethinking people of the Western world have. 

I love that this story takes familiar forces and fears of our modern life and cranks them up to eleven. With that in mind, the star of the show must be Ian Bertram’s artwork. All the huge ideas and themes created by Darcy are elevated to a startling degree by the way Ian is able to build this world visually. The iconography, the violence, the characterizations, it slaps you in the face page after page.

I like this book because it encourages girls to dream and dream big! You’re a superhero with your own sense of style? Cool. Having an amazing ocean adventure? Awesome. This book encourages girls to hold onto their dreams despite pressure from others who wish they would conform. Dreams are where some of my best ideas come from and I’ve always thought that it’s a shame to dream about the mundane. The more fantastical, the better! Dreams can be the start of a real-life great idea. I like this book because it invites girls to think about who they are and imagine all the possibilities for themselves.  

This stunning short novel captures everything about the deep ties that both religion and family have on the Irish experience.

As a boy, I remember my grandmother’s deep religious devotion and how it fueled her way of life. The story touches on this, including an affection for the land, love of community, and the power in doing the right thing. Its moodiness reflects both the story’s unspoken depth and its sublime tenderness.

In Small Things Like These, the protagonist struggles with what he should or should not do after hearing rumors about the local convent and the young girls who live there.

Keegan is a master at delivering the below-the-surface emotions that drive men and women through life’s difficult decisions.

This book is difficult to describe. One part crime, the other part literary fiction and narrated by a child, Dead Girls is unlike any other thriller I’ve read. I couldn’t put it down. When Thera’s best friend goes missing, despite being eleven years old, she decides the grown-ups are doing a bad job at finding Billie and begins investigating on her own. This is a super dark tearjerker about violence towards girls and women. But do check trigger warnings because this one is disturbing.

You might be wondering why I included a book about valuing the birth of girls on a conservation list.

Shyam Sundar Paliwal quit his job at the marble quarry because the owners refused to plant trees to help heal the land after the mining process. When he’s elected the head of his village, he proposes that every family plant 111 trees every time a girl is born.

At that time, girls were considered a burden to their families and welcomed with silence. Slowly, Sundar changed the villagers’ minds. The trees and the girls grew up together and the village continues to prosper.

I love this story of gender equality and healing a devastated land.

Another remarkable first novel, and the first of a trilogy, now complete. Dangarembga is a multi-talented Zimbabwean woman—filmmaker, playwright, novelist, and not least, political activist. A coming-of-age tale set in the late colonial period [when Zimbabwe was Rhodesia], the focus is on two girls, cousins. Tambu, the narrator, begins the book this way: “I was not sorry when my brother died."  Now, that will get your attention [we gradually learn why]. But it is her cousin Nyasha who will grab you: brilliant, passionate, troubled, sickly. In 2018 the BBC named Nervous Conditions one of the 100 stories that have shaped the world.

Written in 46 short vignettes, this is a coming-of-age story of Esperanza Cordero, a young girl growing up in a Hispanic neighborhood in Chicago. Yet the novel is anything but one protagonist’s story, as it consistently juxtaposes Esperanza’s story with stories of secondary characters who make a brief appearance in the novel to seldom reappear and tie loose ends of the “sub-plots”: Marin, Louie, Alicia, Geraldo, Rafaela, Minerva, and others. Narrative continuity via a protagonist’s psychological journey that is a key trait of coming-of-age novels, or of mainstream Western or realist novels at large, is repeatedly disrupted here, making the reader wonder, who is the novel’s protagonist?: Esperanza, Mango Street, or its Brown community, or young Latina girls and women in a 20th century USA, alluded by “las Mujeres” to whom the book is dedicated.

This memoir is by a girl who grew up in a small town in Indiana where “people helped their neighbors, went to church on Sunday, and kept barnyard animals in their backyards.” That pretty much describes the town I grew up in—and there aren’t a lot of books about that life!

Zippy’s anecdotes revolve around friendship, sibling rivalry, beloved (and not so) neighbors, cherished pets, and riding bikes. Even though I grew up in central Florida, Kimmel’s midwestern world was a close echo of my own. Reading her accounts of memories similar to mine kept me laughing out loud throughout.

Bonus: a section talks about the poetry of Robert Frost versus that of James Whitcomb Riley, which, given that I am a serious lover of poetry, I especially enjoyed.

As this novel is set in 1970s Islamabad, Pakistan and the ex-pats are mainly American, it’s technically not about the British in India. But the ex-colonial legacy is there to see: Pakistan was a creation of independence from British rule and is still being affected by geo-politics. I was gripped by the description of life in the Pakistani capital; an area where my grandparents had lived and worked and through which I had travelled in the ’70s. This coming-of-age story is told by teenager Aliya, (half-Pakistani and half-Dutch) who attends the American school. Not only are the tensions of identity well portrayed but also the growing unease between the communities after a traffic accident leaves a young boy dead and world events ignite further unrest. Fascinating and unusual historical fiction.

In Malala’s own kid’s eye view of the world, she tells how she yearned for a magic pencil, like the boy in a TV show she watched, so she could magically make the world a better place. One of the fortunate girls in Afghanistan who was sent to school because her parents believed strongly in education for women, she eventually realized she had that magic pencil already. Her words, her voice, could bring change. This is an empowering book for kids to see that they can make a difference in their world from one of the heroes of their time.

Lê Thi Diem Thúy’s novel tells the story of a young refugee girl in San Diego. The novel is a lyrical accounting, full of disjointed narrative and poetic language, that captures her thoughts and feelings as a Vietnamese immigrant to San Diego in 1978. Early on in the war, most of the literature was written by soldiers and correspondents and dealt strictly with the military side of the war. Later in the eighties and nineties, the scope and quality of the writing about Vietnam has vastly improved, as different perspectives are brought to bear on the war. Lê Thi Diem Thúy writes about refugees whose experiences were much more traumatic compared to the American soldiers who never actually saw combat. Originally published in 2003, it is imminently relevant today.

I wish I’d known someone like Hilda as a child. Heck, I wish I’d been Hilda! She’s adventurous, she’s kind, she’s unafraid to right wrongs. She makes mistakes – how else is one to learn and grow? – but her heart is true, and she admits her errors and becomes an even better version of herself. This book is great for making you see the magical potential in truly mundane things (like the space beneath your sofa or behind your bookshelf!). The story is beautifully illustrated. I never want to leave Hilda’s world, and I’m always eager to return.

Where does one begin to write about forced child marriage and childhood sexual abuse?

In her own words, Nujood writes, “I’m a simple village girl who has always obeyed the orders of my father and brothers. Since forever, I have learned to say yes to everything. Today I have decided to say no.”

Nujood Ali was sold by her family to a man who married her and continuously raped her before she even hit puberty. It is truly disturbing to read about the hell that Nujood endured, yet it is also astonishing and inspirational to see that she escaped and became Yemen’s first child bride to win a divorce. Nujood continues to be an international activist for Yemen and young girls all over the world, spreading light over evil.