46 books like Princess Irene and Curdie

This book is an allegory that shows life as full of struggles and doubts as we make our way to our spiritual destination. I fully related to the main character, Much-Afraid, and her insecurities. This book helped me to focus less on my fears and more on trusting a loving God who wants to help me to overcome my insecurities and fears.

I loved this story! The world is darker than I expected but tactfully done. I found myself shivering with the descriptions of the fangs and getting angry at them, right along with the characters, when they did awful things—which was always.

I loved the forest, full of freshly created dangerous creatures I’d not read about before. I was tickled to read about the treehouse, and the treetop walk within this forest as it reminded me of some elements in my own story.

I found myself hoping Janner, a 12-year-old boy, would uncover the truth about his family and respected his determination to do so. I was often anxious about his younger sister's pet dog as I'm not fond of seeing pets harmed.

An excellent start to the series.

When I first discovered this book’s existence, I knew I had to read it.

C.S. Lewis ventured into the same territory I stumbled into, and I found few Christians that I could confide in back in the 1990s, about the ideas and concepts that swarmed in my brain.

Everyone has heard about The Chronicles of Narnia, The Screw Tape Letters, and The Great Divorce, all of which are theological classics. CS Lewis is a literary giant and a must-read for Christians.

But to learn that he wrote about outer space as the heavens, and his understanding that the word for “heaven” in Scripture is a plural word, bearing its origin from Genesis 1:14, was astonishing to me. He gets it!

I loved The Voyage of the Dawn Treader because I felt like I was truly sailing into the unknown.

I imagined myself standing on the deck, watching strange islands appear on the horizon, and I shared the excitement and fear of discovery.

I admired how Edmund and Lucy grew braver, and I found myself rooting for Eustace as he struggled to change—I saw parts of myself in his stubbornness and his transformation. I felt lifted by Reepicheep’s unshakable courage and hope. I loved how every challenge reminded me that I, too, can face the unknown and keep moving toward the light.

This book is the story of a boy who runs away from his chaotic but loving home in New York City to try his hand at living in the wilderness of upstate New York.

I found it totally charming and instructive. He hollows out a tree to make himself a comfortable place to observe and embrace the Winter on the side of a mountain. This book is written more for child philosophers than Earth-Loving elders, but I read it to my husband, and we both enjoyed it greatly.

It is a different take on mother nature love than the others I have recommended, yet it still shines.

This is perhaps the best-known and most obvious choice illustrating Nature’s healing powers. Mary, an orphaned girl, moves in with an estranged, reclusive uncle on his isolated English estate. Lonely and bereaved, Mary spends her days exploring both the house and extensive gardens, when one day she discovers a secret garden, locked away behind a wall.

This garden, tucked away and neglected for many years, is the key to Mary’s healing. Through quiet deliberation, she begins to bring the garden back to life and, in turn, finds new life in herself. The healing of the uncle is perhaps the most mystical scene in the book for me, brought about by a quiet moment beside a trickling stream, where he has an epiphany of heart healing. I find the book’s mixture of nature and mystery beguiling.

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.

Anne Shirley is a perfectly imperfect heroine, and that’s why I love her. She’s creative and imaginative and gets so lost in her daydreams that she can forget the flour in a cake or to cover leftover pudding, leaving easy access for a peckish mouse. Her temper matches her red hair, and she refuses to let anyone insult her dignity. She dreams of meeting kindred spirits—those individuals you just click with.

Although I first discovered Anne as a teen, I’ve returned to her throughout my life, and at each stage, she’s there like an old friend. The best part of knowing Anne has been meeting kindred spirits from all around the globe who share their own stories of reading and loving Anne.  

If I died, went to the edge of Heaven, and then returned, how would I be different? That’s what happens to a young boy named Diamond.

I love the premise, which wasn’t obvious until I realized the Back of the North Wind represents death. This is supposedly a children’s book, but the original is 300 pages long.

I love the sophistication and insights of the dialogue, the gorgeous passages, and the depictions of the god-like North Wind as a tall, beautiful woman. As the book progressed, I was introduced to a little girl, Nanny, Diamond’s companion in adventure.

MacDonald’s works radiate a deep respect for life, and especially for women. This may well be his best book.

George MacDonald was a Scottish preacher who turned to fantasy fiction, and became a sort of Victorian superstar: “Queen Victoria gave copies of Robert Falconer to her grandchildren. Everybody read his books—Lewis Carroll, John Ruskin, H.G. Wells, Charles Dickens, Edna Lyall, Mark Twain . . . as well as the queen herself.”

I don't think I can explain the attraction to modern reader, you'll get it or you won't: I first met his novel-length “romances” (Phantastes and Lilith) when I was eight, suffering after a horrible trip to the dentist, and found the stories very weird and comforting. Whereas most “fairy tales” are quite brutal, if you're paying attention.