100 Books Like A Wrinkle in Time

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.  

The mere thought of this book makes me smile – I enjoyed its style, which was charming and nicely wacky. 

Environmental expert and nature writer Gerald Durrell details his extremely unusual upbringing, when his mother transported her four (untamed, wilful, contrasting, more than lively) children from England to Corfu – and this was decades ago, when few people did daring things like that. They plunged into a culture clash adventure – filled with much alarming wildlife in the house!

I loved how it was continually surprising. I don’t see how his mother put up with all of them. It’s all valiantly shambolic and funny. 

The instant I saw the marvelous illustrations of plump little hippo-trolls floating on clouds, I was captivated by their fun-loving world of wonder-full adventures.

This book is about moments of discovery that add richness to our lives–like when Moomintroll ventures to the top of a mountain with his friend, Snufkin, and they discover a hat–the “Hobgoblin’s hat”–which supposedly has magical powers. Or when the Hattifatteners, ghost entities, steal Hemulen’s barometer. Or when everything the moomintrolls need can be found in moominmamma’s purse.

Well, you can imagine the sort of fun and childish interplay of these curious characters as they make enchanting discoveries full of awe and whimsey while spreading kindness and fun-folly in and around Moomintroll Valley. 

A fantasy novel packed with lyrical, elegant prose, this book impressed me because of the way Myer imagined music as the key to a lost system of magic through the story of a young woman who is challenging the patriarchal status quo by gaining admission to the previously all-male college of bards.

At the same time, Myer explores other perspectives on feminine power in a male-dominated world through several of her supporting characters, whose tales weave together and apart like beautiful melodies contributing to an epic medley.

This story of singing truth to power is a work of beauty from start to finish.

This book is unhinged in the best way. I love Gideon’s unique voice. Around her is a deadly-serious necromancer murder mystery with interplanetary stakes, and she cares more about cracking dirty jokes and finally eating some warm food. Her relationship with her arch-nemesis/only friend Harrow leaps off the page.

I love the scene where they get into a pool so Harrow can finally confess to Gideon her darkest secret—so hot and so disturbing all at the same time. While this book isn’t technically a romance and the genre feels more like a horror fantasy set in space, I couldn’t resist putting it on the list. As Gideon says to Harrow, “One flesh, one end, bitch.”

I first read this extraordinary, heartwarming story of self-reliance and survival when my own children were growing up, and I’ve returned to reading Island of the Blue Dolphins often throughout my adult years, typically at times when I find myself struggling to regain my footing as I face personal problems and challenges.

Published in 1960, this book tells the story of a young girl named Karana who spends nearly two decades abandoned and alone on the desert island her tribe evacuates after a deadly conflict with Aleutian otter hunters. I’ve often recommended this slight but powerful tale to women friends suffering from feelings of desolation and helplessness, and Karana’s courage, resilience, and creativity have succeeded in lifting their spirits and inspiring hope.

Reading this book reminded me that understanding another person is a continuous struggle, and that we lose the most when we mistake appearances for truth. Even for someone like Genly, an emissary whose role is to bridge cultures, truly understanding Estraven proves painfully difficult.

What stayed with me was the tragedy of that gap: how insight often arrives too late.

Estraven’s sacrifice, made so that Genly could reach safety, and Genly’s decision to visit Estraven’s family afterward, left me with a lingering sense that remembrance itself carries moral weight. Sometimes understanding cannot undo loss, but memory—how the living choose to carry it—can still salvage a trace of good from tragedy.

Le Guin’s novel taught me that empathy is not a destination, but an act that must be fought for, again and again.

I love the cunning, wit, and charm of the one-and-only Vlad Taltos. Though he’s an assassin, he’s never cruel or wicked; he merely does what he needs to appease the “mafia-feeling” organization he works for. He’s almost more a swashbuckling rogue than a killer.

In his interactions with his familiar, Loiosh, you see his more nuanced side, the morality beneath the magic and swordplay. And few fantasy worlds I’ve ever visited have been as rich and colorful as those created in the Vlad Taltos series. 

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. 

I am fascinated by stories of robots evolving into sentient beings. For a change, in this one, the robots do not rise up to destroy their masters. Instead, we are invited into a funny, tender, and exciting tale about a robot who finds herself castaway on a wilderness island and must learn what her purpose is and how to survive. As she and the animals who live there grow closer and closer together, she begins to find a home in the wilderness. A rich story that works on many levels at once. It is a tale about the interdependence of all things in nature, as well as about the perils and possibilities that technology is bringing to us. Best of all, it’s about kindness.