Books like Crushing It

This was the first published book I read with a nonbinary main character. That alone makes it one of the most personally important books I have ever read. The fact that I encountered it just after writing my own novel about a nonbinary figure skater made this beautiful book hit even harder.

It showed me that even though two books may have the same hook and some of the same basic ingredients, the execution can be diverse and take those ingredients in directions you never expected. It sparkles, both in its descriptions of figure skating and in its nuanced and honest exploration of identity. It also makes for an excellent read-aloud book.

I will never get sick of hearing people’s roller derby names. I absolutely flew through this book. I mean, as sports go, roller derby has gotta be one of the coolest! The first in this series follows Dynamic Duo Kenzie (aka Kenzilla) and Shelly (aka Bomb Shell) as they round out their derby team. They both have big expectations for how everything will come together, but, of course, getting more girls involved in a duo leads to new, thorny dynamics.

I particularly love the ensemble cast of this book as it builds for the series to follow. Derby Daredevils also comes with a lot of great interior illustrations throughout the story—it’s not quite a graphic novel, but it scratches that itch. 

Heartwarming sports movies never really got me when I was growing up… until I read this book. Now, I understand. Getting to hear Obie’s inner monologue—full of humor and heart—as he navigates the sport of swimming as a transgender boy is exhilarating… and, at times, challenging because of the bullying and transphobia Obie faces. Those challenges are tempered by a beautiful support system and a rallying insistence throughout the book that trans youth are both powerful and needed.

Like all good sports movies, this has all the emotional heft you could want. Pro Tip: Snag this one on audiobook to hear author Schuyler Bailar thread even more voice into Obie.

This is one of those books that bends time. It opens a conversation between the here and now of baseball-loving, closeted Silas’s life and 1977 when gay baseball player Glenn Burke invented the high five—a conversation that is absolutely absorbing.

This book surprised me in the best way. It crackled off the page and was a deeply enjoyable read while also sparking important conversations around the stories we choose to tell, how we create community, and what it means to share our true selves with the people around us. This is one of those books that makes me feel cared for as a reader. 

A rough-and-tumble gaggle of middle-schoolers on the C-string girl's soccer team navigate first crushes, coming out, queer identity, and relationships – and being really, really bad at soccer. Johnson’s perfect ear for tween voices is matched by a frenetic art style that pops with crisp energy and a delirious, bouncy pace that rebounds around its panoply of League Of Their Own-esque characters like a soccer ball zig-zagging across its field. All the cheers, all the skinned knees, all the dizzying emotions and close friendships of the tween years come rushing back. 

If ever there was a book that felt like it had been written just for me, this is it. Set in a fictional European country in the early nineteenth century, it has swashbuckling, nights at the opera, complicated family history, politics, magic, and lesbians. The way that Christianity is integrated into the fantastic element won’t be for everybody, but I was won over by Margerit’s earnest insistence on claiming her identity as a queer woman of faith and power. I’d wholeheartedly recommend the rest of the series, too.

In this book, barrister-turned-novelist Sarah Caudwell strikes a perfect balance of intricate, cozy mystery and zany British humor.

While I adored all of the books by this author, I particularly loved the Gothic threads that run through this last one, as well as the satisfying queer aspects of the storyline. If I could live inside any mystery series, it would be this one: the characters are so much fun, especially the narrator, Oxford professor Hilary Tamar.

Interestingly, Professor Tamar’s gender is never disclosed—a pretty radical concept for a series that started in the 1980s—which manages to avoid ever feeling gimmicky and which helped me to reflect as I read on my own expectations and assumptions about gender in mystery stories.

This book has so many tropes that I despise, such as miscommunication, deceit/manipulation, and third-act breakups. Yet somehow, Bryn managed to execute them all with such finesse that I fell in love.

Both main characters are adorable in completely different ways. Wes is such a confident goof, while Vincent is so sad and adorable that I just want to hug him. The romance is cute but fades to black. However, there are apparently some spicy short stories that follow up with the lives of Wes and Vincent. I need to get my next dose of these cute boys.

I opened this book and immediately felt comfortable with the narrative style: dual POV, third person, with a hint of humor right on the first page. It’s a cute little Christmassy novella. One character is a lesfic author and the other is a huge fan of hers (but doesn’t know it’s her) – I enjoyed the “mystery” of Ivy trying to piece together Kit’s pen name. Kit’s young niece was also very cute. Overall, this story just felt like a safe space. I was able to curl up and know that everything was going to be okay.

I have to admit, although I know a lot about gods, I haven’t spent a ton of time reading about folkloric creatures, like faeries, brownies, and selkies. This book, set in a gothic old house in the English countryside in the 1850s, definitely made me feel my neglect of the topic; luckily, I got to learn alongside magician John Blake and Lord Thornby as they investigate the spell that’s holding Thornby trapped.

One remarkable thing about this book is the intriguing and clever magic system. The romance is great. And the twist at the end—well, I didn’t see it coming.