9 books like Joe Grey Mysteries

This book features a calico cat who reminds me very much of my own cat, Peanut Butter. But Conrad the cat is a very special cat—he talks!  And he helps retired police detective Lulu Lewis solve crimes. Lulu lives on a canal boat in Little Venice, which has always been a dream of mine. I gather this is the first in a series of Conrad the cat cosy crime mysteries, and I can’t wait for the next one!

Niffy is a beautiful smoky grey cat, just the right colour to hide in dim and dark places. Niffy guides a young prince through the perils of ruling and loving in this award-winning author’s enchanting and sophisticated fairy tale for adults and intelligent children alike. I first read this book twenty years ago and have reread it several times. I love it. It’s a great story to read with your children.

It’s quite possibly the scariest book ever written. Much scarier than most adult horror books. Adult horror books rely on cheap shock value to elicit cheaper scares. It provides the same (or greater) level of unease without resorting to the gratuitous.

I cannot fathom how this book managed to pull that off. But I can say that this book has more to offer adults than it can give to children. An adult can see the subtext of a story where a child disappears because a stranger offers them candy and toys, as well as the implication that such strangers may not be entirely human.

And I can’t tell you what makes it so great without spoiling the whole story. I was so engrossed in this story that it practically kidnapped me. I can’t recommend it enough.

This book has become so familiar to us through cartoons and movies that we often forget how very weird it is as a piece of writing. The book begins when Alice, bored of her sister’s company, notices a white rabbit muttering to itself “Oh dear! Oh dear!”, and starts to become curious—not, mind you, because talking rabbits are impossible, but only because they are so very intriguing.

The rest of the book shares this bemused tone: Alice will be subjected to all sorts of indignities, including a near-beheading, but as a “good” Victorian girl, she will generally accept the bizarre reality that is presented to her. Carroll’s mastery of language is key to this effect. Nearly every character sounds sensible, turning well-formed logical sentences, but they never make much actual sense, and their speeches are riddled with so many puns, double meanings, and other linguistic tricks that one can never… show more.

This is the first book in a series for adults that can also be enjoyed by teens. Unlike most space fiction, it's not about heroic exploits but about an ordinary young man coming of age while doing an ordinary job aboard a merchant starship. I like its portrayal of the human-settled part of the universe in the era of travel between stars. No aliens, no space battles–just a culture much like our own offering freedom and opportunity for personal achievement. The specific lifestyle described is anachronistic because cultures change over time; yet it's no further from realism than wildly-imagined changes would be. I believe fiction that shows significant future developments should let readers identify with its characters' experiences rather than depict differences merely for the sake of difference.

All of Robert Heinlein's YA novels are good (better, in my opinion, than his adult novels), but this one has special meaning for me because it was the first book I ever read about colonizing an uninhabited world. At the time it was published in 1950 I was sixteen and had been enthusiastic about the possibility of space travel for four years, since long before the general public was familiar with it; but all the space fiction I knew of was about mere adventure, usually adventure focused on fighting. The idea that families could someday settle a new planet--and, despite danger and hardship, accomplish something of immense importance to the future of humankind--made a strong impression on me and became one of my deepest convictions.

I don't ordinarily care for stories about dragons or speaking animals, but this book's beautifully written descriptions of them and their world made it compelling, and the singing dragons remained in my memory long after the first time I read it. Moreover, the familiar elements of such fantasy–a hidden prince, animal companions, magical objects, imprisonment in a dungeon, and so forth--are here presented in unique and believable ways. The protagonists are heroic but vulnerable and the villains who seek to enslave the world are truly evil, so that the reader feels that what happens to them really matters. And looking it over recently, I was struck by the realization that in the years since its first publication in the 1980s the timeliness of the story has increased.

I love this series of three short novels enough to have read it more times than I can count. The language of the novel is simple and evocative. I love the main character, a young wizard who starts out as proud, angry and arrogant, but becomes deeply compassionate when his hubris leads him to make a tragic and evil use of magic.

I could feel myself grabbed by the world of the novel, a world of men and dragons, of islands dotted in an endless sea, of powerful mages who interfere at their peril with the precarious balance of the world between good and evil. 

What truly is there left to say about this masterpiece of classic fantasy that hasn’t been said a million times already?

After devouring the light appetizer that is The Hobbit, my teenage imagination was utterly blown away by what I only later understood to be the quintessential blueprint for nearly everything that’s followed throughout the years in this genre.

The sheer level of minute detail and painstakingly developed mythos is nothing short of a masterclass in world-building—a must-have skill for writing this kind of epic tale—but it was the story itself, with its core principles of friendship, loyalty, and sacrifice, that resonated so deeply with me.