94 Books Like Big Bad Bubble

I feel like I lived this story as a kid. I’ll bet a lot of kids do. A young boy overcomes his fear of the high dive. 

Step by step, Gaia Cornwall takes us through Jabari’s jump. Jabari starts by telling his dad he’s not scared at all. He clearly is. He delays, makes excuses. Dad never pushes. He wants this to be Jabari’s decision, Jabari’s victory. It’s so relatable, the perspective even changes to first person once Jabari is high above the pool. 

Everything rings true. It’s exactly what a scared kid would say and do. It’s exactly what I said and did when I was Jabari’s age trying to summon my own courage on the high dive. Except when I hit the water, my swim trunks fell off.

I’m a creature of habit. So is Scaredy Squirrel. We both know the comforts of feeling safe in perfect routines where nothing is left to chance, where nothing can go wrong…right?  

Scaredy writes lists of his emergency procedures, draws grids of his safety equipment, diagrams his secret exit strategies. I feel this poor squirrel’s pain. How many nights have I lain awake before a school visit mulling over my presentations? No plan is fool proof. So when Scaredy accidentally falls from his tree, he does what he must: thinks quickly and improvises. And discovers a secret ability he never knew he had. 

In the end, Melanie Watt gives Scaredy most of his old routine back, but now it’s balanced with a healthy dose of adventure. Perfectly balanced, I’d say.

First of all, I have always adored Sesame Street’s loveable, furry old Grover, so if he is the star of a book, I’m in! I still remember my mom reading this book to me over 50 years ago and feeling so proud that I was able to thwart Grover’s efforts to get me to NOT turn the pages. (Though, admittedly, that first time… I was totally nervous, like him, to get to the monster at the end!)

All subsequent readings, though, even when I dared to do it on my own, felt like an accomplishment, moving forward despite being afraid. And the end? Well, maybe we are not just who others think we are.

Here’s a book about being shy in a world that rewards the bold. 

Sugar is the beloved therapy dog at school. She puts people at ease. Kids, teachers, parents, all give her pets. But not Hannah. Whenever it’s her turn, she shrinks away. Then, when Sugar gets lost, Hannah finds herself reaching out to calm her. Her fear evaporates when Sugar’s the one in need. Kate Berube evokes Hannah’s quiet bravery with a beautifully-timed wordless scene. 

When I was Hannah’s age, I was shy too. I hid when I thought my teacher was going to give me a shot. But her “syringe” was just a fountain pen. As she wrote my name, my fear evaporated. I could have used a dog like Sugar. Or a book like this.

I first read this book as a teenager and missed the full force of its ferocious satire. Re-reading it years later, I laughed out loud. Waugh’s genius is to set his story of a love triangle in a Los Angeles funeral home. This way, he gets to poke fun at Hollywood and the American funeral industry while giving the dead a prominent role in the drama.

When, for example, embalmer Mr. Joyboy starts wooing young cosmetician Aimée Thanatogenos, he does it through the expressions he puts on the faces of the corpses he sends to her makeup studio. When Aimée falls for his rival, a poet and pet mortician, the beatific smiles of Mr. Joyboy’s death turn into ghastly grimaces. It’s one of my favorite moments in the book—but there are many more.

As shocking as I felt Kubrick’s film was, I think the book is possibly more startling. Some scenes Kubrick played for laughs are described as violent and sadistic in the novel. If, like me, you are a fan of the film, it’ll fill in some blanks for you. Ever wonder why Alex and his friends drink milk?

The book is written in futuristic teen-speak that did take me a while to get my head around, but this ultimately adds to the strangeness of the insular world these ‘droogs’ inhabit. Though it was first published in 1962, I think this is still a very relevant and unflinching look at the place of violence in society.

Overstuffed and labyrinthine, Eco’s novel dives into a highly academic rabbit hole of conspiracy theories that toss me head over heels like a strong wave in the ocean. It reads a bit like The DaVinci Code written by Thomas Pynchon (who we’ll get to in a minute), the paranoias stemming from historical entities like the Knights Templar and the Rosicrucians.

I’d be hard-pressed to provide an accurate summary of events, but it all makes for a pleasantly bewildering reading experience.

This one leans heavier on the laughter, lighter on the thinking—but sometimes a little bit of fun is exactly what I need.

It’s a chaotic mash-up of The Hunger Games and Ready Player One, except with far more laughs and a talking cat. It’s the first in a long series (which I admittedly haven’t finished yet), but even on its own it’s a blast: action-packed, darkly funny, and weirdly endearing.

I fell in love with the two main characters and happily followed them into the madness.

This story completely threw me for a loop and I read a lot of mysteries and thrillers, so I am not easily mislead.

When you think you know where it’s going, it takes a completely different turn. And it’s not only that you are being fooled, it’s the main character who is fooling himself.

Perception shapes reality 100%, and so do mind-altering drugs. I loved this one so much. It pops up in my mind often.

This collection of short stories left me a bit depressed but in a good way. Cook writes with pure beauty and poetry. The ideas of this collection were, at times, odd and uncomfortable, but they succeeded in making me consider the darker elements that exist within all of us as humans. These stories kept me engaged through their balance of settings as well. Some stories felt present, while others crafted bleak futures that were all too believable. A few of the stories had some racy elements too, so if you’re into that kind of thing, you won’t be disappointed.