100 Books Like All Four Stars

Oh dear, I’m cheating again. Sort of. This isn’t really fantasy, either. It’s an adventure for young adults featuring teenage spy Alex Rider. But I love it too much to care, and besides, cheating is cool, kids! But there’s a specific reason why I’m finishing this list with Stormbreaker. Despite its exciting action, the book is written as a relatable and grounded affair. Alex Rider is an ordinary kid with ordinary problems. He’s ginger, often lonely, underestimated, and regularly cast aside. He’s relatable and that’s why I loved the books.

The film adaptation is a ridiculous charade of impossible stunts starring an incredibly handsome blonde-haired model and it feels like someone threw up confetti over a story that actually meant something to me. Fifteen-year-old me was justified in throwing his popcorn at the screen.

You describe a book as “Ocean’s Eleven for teens,” and I am a hundred percent in.

Like most heists, this one has the cat burglar and the genius hacker and the femme fatale and the getaway driver—except this time, they’re all teenagers. What a dream!

I just love a good heist story. They have to be so carefully crafted, so tightly plotted, and as a writer I really admire any storyteller who can do that. All three books in the Heist Society series are remarkable feats of plotting and pacing. I got to see Ally Carter give an author talk once, and she spoke about just how hard it is to write something that looks this easy. That’s so true; it really stuck with me.

This book was in my third-grade classroom library, and I read it so many times that when the school year ended, my teacher let me keep it. I’m glad she did, because I’ve never seen it anywhere else.

This was the first book I ever fell in love with about a kid doing something you thought only grown-ups were supposed to do—namely, becoming principal of her own school! Adult readers might protest that this premise is “unrealistic,” but it’s written in such a way that as a young reader it seemed completely plausible to me.

As a kid, there’s just so much that you have no control over, so the idea of earning a position with real power is incredibly appealing.

I wrote my first book and started submitting it to publishers when I was eleven years old. I dreamed of publishing a book before I graduated from high school.

Ultimately, that didn’t happen—I was 25 by the time I sold my first book. So you can see why I loved a story about a character who lived my dream; a 14-year-old girl who becomes a bestselling author. Most people didn’t believe that kids can be authors, but seeing another kid do it—even if her story is fictional—makes it feel possible.

This cover completely drew me in because the typewriter, cityscape, and WWII airplanes all show an urgency and a story just waiting to be told. Cohen writes about prominent WWII foreign correspondents, including Dorothy Thompson and Frances Fineman, who travel the world in search of the latest war update. It was certainly not as easy to get from country to country back then—especially across vast oceans—so I really appreciated their determination to travel. 

As a former professor of sociology and media studies at the University of Virginia, I was (and, of course, remain!) interested in the history of communication. In this book, I discovered the backstory to the creation of well-known documents that fueled the American Revolution and fostered lively debate in the ensuing decades.

I also enjoyed reading about writers, publishers, and printers (often, one and the same) whose literary works raised mudslinging to an art form and deepened divisions that threatened to upend the grand experiment of democracy in its infancy. But somehow, the incendiary press of the late eighteenth century became “the basis of a humane and enduring society.”

A highly perceptive if rather depressing examination of how the British media works, how expensive investigative journalism has largely given way to opinion columns and trivia about so-called celebrities, how stories are often not stories, how papers dress up partisan opinion as fact. In short, an exposure of the falsehoods, distortion, and propaganda that have corrupted the media. Nick Davies was a journalist at the Guardian.

Before Life there was the Saturday Evening Post, a roaring success capturing the spirit of Middle America at a time when Middle America defined the cultural ethos of the nation. But by the late 1950s the potent reach of television advertising undermined the general-interest magazine business model, and the Post slipped into an inexorable spiral of decline that its top executives could never quite handle or even understand. There’s plenty of pathos and human drama as they struggle with forces beyond their control. 

Martha Gellhorn’s blend of reportage and imagination ensnared me when I was barely out of my teens, and her preferred form has come of age in my working life.

Not only do I think Gellhorn is a marvellous writer – at her best, one of the best – but I also identify with Gellhorn the woman. "The open road," she wrote, was "my first, oldest and strongest love." She lived from 1908 to 1998 and was writing the fighting for six decades, and although each conflict was different, her message remained the same: ‘There is neither victory nor defeat; there is only catastrophe." 

The book Washington chronicles the significant career of Meg Greenfield, an editorial page editor of The Washington Post. Greenfield, a winner of the Pulitzer Prize for commentary, wrote the book during the last two years of her life. Greenfield’s boss and close friend Katharine Graham contributed the foreword which provides context. Greenfield came to Washington in 1961 and was hired by the Post a few years later. Her editorials at the Post and her columns in Newsweek were witty and smart. Her stories provide a political picture of Washington, D.C. at the end of the American century. She was often at the place where change happened and tells the stories well. Greenfield’s book is a fascinating read about politics, journalism, and history.