54 Books Like It's So Magic

This picture book is one of the only contemporary books for children that shows drinking for pleasure.

After a mouse gets eaten up by a wolf, he meets a duck that lives in “the belly of the beast.” The two become fast friends and live happily in the wolf’s stomach. Together they make soup, dance to records, and enjoy the finer things in life.  When the wolf complains of a stomachache, the duck calls up a cure for him—advising that he eat a hunk of good chess, a flagon of wine, and some beeswax candles.

After the wolf does so, mouse and duck don top hats, tuxedo jackets, bow ties and sit down to feast, raising their glasses of wine to the health of the wolf. Ultimately, duck and mouse save the wolf’s life and in return he grants them their wish to return to their home in his stomach.… show more.

I’m a completionist. I take pleasure in completing a game or task involving many steps that I can tick off as I go.

A to Z lists thrill me like nothing else can! Seeing different minds tackle the same 26 letters each in their own way, never gets old. I was a grown-up when I first discovered Edward Gorey and found him amusing.

But when I discovered this book, the hairs on the back of my neck tingled. He was taking on the A to Z challenge! And he nailed it. Each line is concise and yet tells me everything I need to know.

It’s a short book, but since each line comes with an illustration showing that letter’s victim’s last moments, it’s worth pausing to savor each page.

The appalling schoolgirls that attend Ronald Searle’s fictional girls’ boarding school drink copious amounts of alcohol, smoke, and regularly set the school on fire. In Searle’s cartoons horror and humor are tightly wound. But don’t let the girls’ boarding school gym slips, high black socks, boater hats, and hair bows fool you. These young ladies grin at violence and delight in rule breaking.

Searle drew the second and third St. Trinian’s cartoon while he was a Japanese prisoner of war during World War II. Remarkably, Searle kept a visual record of his time in captivity, including self-portraits, four hundred secret sketches of prisoners and the brutalities of the guards as well as seventy-two cartoons, including the second and third St. Trinian’s drawings which were published in 1945 after his return from the war.

This book comes in the form of a small baby board book. On the back of this parody of a board book, the author asks “Are you a parent? Are you thirsty? Too many of us allow our infant sons and daughters to lay about idly napping, drinking milk, and sometimes ‘turning over.’ Why not have them mix you a cocktail? Thanks, Baby!”

Each page includes a mixology template for different members of the family. I particularly like the first recipe- a martini for mama. Additionally, like educational shape recognition texts that purportedly teach babies to organize visual information, Brown inserts easily recognizable liquor brands, Bombay Sapphire distilled London dry gin and Martini dry vermouth.

That the martini is the mother’s drink tickles the viewer to question whether gin is mother’s helper or mother’s ruin. Brown’s tongue-in-cheek board book foregrounds alcohol as pleasure and a baby that brings ease rather… show more.

This is an excellent textbook to get readers and comic makers of all experience levels to loosen up, think deeply and personally, and make better, more confident comics. It’s warm but practical, smart but approachable, deep but unpretentious. This is a comics veteran generously sharing both her knowledge of comics and teaching, as well as her own methods for drawing, brainstorming, and writing. It’s an incredible resource and one I often find myself quoting and recommending to my own students. 

Everything Lynda Barry touches is earthy human gold.

One! Hundred! Demons! is one part memoir of a difficult childhood, one part comics how-to, and six parts warmth and humor and unruly red hair. It isn’t quite as dark as some of her other work, though it certainly gestures in that direction at times.

It also exemplifies Barry’s knack for finding beauty and delight inside the most difficult, unfair garbage life can throw at you. Such a great book.

How much do I love this hilarious, terrifying, completely bonkers carny show of a novel? Written and illustrated by Barry, a cartoonist, it opens with a suicide note by Roberta, a misfit teen with a busted-up face who’s left behind a rageful diaristic manifesto describing child abuse, theft, revenge, murder, and a cast of characters out of a circus nightmare.

I got whiplash, veering from stomach-cramping laughter to anxious dread, heartbreak, and complete wonder at the strange, freakish beauty of her prose, like finding chunks of gold in the trash. When I finished, I thought, WTF did I just read, and HOW TF did she do it? I really don’t know. But every few years, I re-read it to try and find out.

All game designers struggle with what it means to be creative, and whether they are doing it properly. What It Is and its companion book, Picture This are very personal guides to what it means to be a creative person, and are full of inspirational stories and very practical tips to create your best work and not get in your own way. 

Mancall’s background as an economic historian of the Atlantic world provides an interesting take on early interactions between European colonists and Native Americans in the early New World colonies. As an anthropologist, I am always pleased to see historians, especially economic historians, integrate ethnographic evidence and anthropological literature into their research.

In this book, Mancall explores the way rum and other alcoholic beverages connected Native peoples in North America to broader Atlantic markets. Moreover, Mancall highlights the way rum connected the plight of enslaved peoples in the Caribbean to the plight of Native peoples in colonial North America.

Alcohol is a highly readable, and useful, text on the cultural and material history of alcohol from ancient times through the modern-day. Phillips uses an international and comparative frame here to good effect—something not usually done in histories of alcohol. I also greatly appreciated his focus on colonial, ethnic, and racial histories around alcohol, as well as its regulation in different societies. Phillips makes a compelling argument against the idea that most earlier societies turned to alcohol because the water wasn't safe to drink (some did, but the assumption is far too widespread, he argues).