100 Books Like All We Ever Wanted

Nothing is accidental. Every word that you think is throwaway is part of the character build. Nothing is told. You have to link it. You have diverse characters without commentary. You have an understanding of motivation. You have illicit love. You have a challenging protagonist. What you think is true may not be true. You may glimpse real people, but you cannot say for sure. Unspoken truths. Secrets. Sex. Glamor.

Written from alternative viewpoints, it rounds out the real-life aspect that there is no truth because everyone’s truth is colored by their own bias. Again, it's unexpected and a fast read–and just like with my last recommendation–you don’t like her, then you do.

Talk about a complicated mother-daughter relationship! Almost as soon as her daughter is born, Blythe suspects something is…off. And no kidding, is it ever? This book takes the idea of not being able to connect with your kid to a whole other, really terrifying level.

What I particularly love about this book is how much it challenges the idea of who is in charge in the mother-daughter relationship, and what it means if your kid is really, truly, bad. This book actually made me gasp. The title refers to the central incident of the book, but I like it because the book also pushes against all kinds of societal norms. 

I identified with WIllow, the musician, who poured her whole heart and soul into a record that never hit the big time. She is disappointed with her current level of success and goes home to New York to stay with her Aunt Gloria in her famous mother’s old penthouse. The story revolves around an investigation into stolen art and I adored the seventy-year-old Gloria who chose herself instead of the love she found in the arms of a passionate artist turned art smuggler. The characters are richly detailed and women you want to know, and the prose is lyrical and complex, so beautiful you have to pause to appreciate it. 

This book has so much to teach us about race and misconceptions. Faced with the decision of intervening to save a newborn baby’s life and the orders she’s been given not to touch the child of white supremacists, a NICU nurse, Ruth, hesitates for a moment then provides care. Her hesitation causes her to be charged with a serious crime. She is assigned a white public defender who wants to plead out and keep race out of the equation, but Ruth stands her ground. The women have to learn to trust each other and to find common ground. This is the most beautiful struggle about race from both perspectives that leaves you with a deeper understanding of both sides of the issue. 

I regularly recommend this terrific book, recently updated for the digital age, to both teens and their parents. Sean Covey is the son of the famous Stephen Covey (The 7 Habits of Highly Effective People). Sean is an experienced father, nationally known character educator (creator of The Leader in Me program), and highly talented author in his own right. His book on “the 6 most important decisions” tackles areas of a young person’s life where good decisions can bring big benefits and poor ones can carry a high cost: (1) choosing friends, (2) making the most of school, (3) creating a positive relationship with your parents, (4) building self-confidence, (5) dating and romantic relationships (without sex), and (6) steering clear of drugs, pornography, and other damaging addictions.

Covey’s gift for connecting with young readers combines straight talk, practical tips, humorous cartoon graphics, and hard-to-argue-with wisdom illustrated with true… show more.

This book was published ten years ago, and it’s as fresh and relevant as ever. I’ve chosen to highlight it here because, honestly, it’s the classic book that catalyzed many researchers into properly listening to young people and really respecting their views.

I learned a lot from danah boyd’s fieldwork about how to put effort into gaining teens’ trust, avoiding adult assumptions, and properly listening to what teens had to say. The teens in this book are often troubled, struggling with mental health problems and difficult life circumstances – but it's not their fault, they are facing so many real-world problems – poverty, family breakdown, racism, etc.

As a result, teens turn to technology for support, privacy, intimacy, and belonging. But in key ways, technology can also make things worse. I found this book truly thought-provoking.

Chocolates for Breakfast was frequently compared to Bonjour Tristesse and Moore was called “the American Sagan.” Like Sagan, Moore was only eighteen when she wrote the bestselling novel. Written in the third person, it tells the story of a young woman’s sexual exploration and her feelings of depression. Courtney, a child of divorce, moves from her posh Connecticut boarding school to Beverly Hills when her depression keeps her from performing at school. She grapples with her mother, a down-on-her-heels alcoholic actress; explores her sexuality with both a gay male actor and an older straight manager in Hollywood; then relocates to New York where she drifts through cocktail parties, having affairs, until her best friend Janet commits suicide. Like Bonjour Tristesse, the novel flirts with existentialism but ultimately adopts a more hopeful tone as Courtney matures and aims to create meaning in her life.

Probably one of the darker reads on my list but, man! This Trinidadian book delivers such top-notch story-telling that you’ll ask yourself why you don’t read more Caribbean fiction.

This book also looks at twins but the choices are taken out of their hands and placed in those of their parents. The author injected it with a bit of humour but it’s also a tear-jerker in the end. I highly recommend.

If I want to get into the mood for fall, there’s nothing better than reading this Rainbow Rowell graphic novel.

Set at a Nebraska pumpkin patch where high school seniors Josiah and Deja work each year, it’s absolutely crammed with the sights, sounds, and scents of the season leading up to Halloween–not to mention a sweet, slow-burn friends-to-lovers romance between two characters I absolutely rooted for.

Despite high school freshman Melinda’s refusal to speak, I was immediately drawn into this contemporary (1999) novel by the pitch-perfect, first-person voice in which she tells her poignant story.

Melinda isn’t abandoned on a desolate island like Karana or exiled to a barren cave like Ayla but shunned by her friends after busting an end-of-summer party by calling the cops; her refusal to speak renders Melinda similarly isolated and remote.

I especially admire the way Anderson’s deft narration plays out the paradox of silence giving voice to revelation. As Melinda comes to terms with her devastating secret—having been raped by an upperclassman—she finally speaks up and breaks her silence.