Books like Me, My Dad and the End of the Rainbow — picked by fans

Twins Sam and Sam (yes, their two mums, both psychologists, did decide to give them the same name) are not quite teenagers. They both struggle with fears and friendships on the brink of high school. I love this book because the humour is so subtle but spot on, the characters are so well-drawn, and the twins’ different anxieties about an impending school trip are so relatable. The fact that Sam and Sam have two mums makes their family distinctive, and the mums’ relationship is warm and believable, but is not the main element of the story.

Bea is a kid with big feelings who’s navigating major changes. After her parents’ divorce, she finds stability in a list of constants: that each of her parents will always love her; that she’ll always have a home with each of them; that they are still a family.

I felt Bea’s waves of elation and anger so intensely that some moments made me feel like my heart might burst. Ultimately, the love and support she receives from the adults in her life helped me remember my own things that will not change.

Billie Upton Green (B.U.G.) has two mums, an obsession with biscuits (the best varieties and correct way to eat them), and a problem with spelling. Young or old, everyone surely has a favourite biscuit-like Billie, I’m a custard cream fan - and even the most reluctant reader, whatever their own family is like, can pick up this quirkily illustrated book and find something to make them laugh or that they can identify with. Author Jen Carney, like me, draws on her own experience as a lesbian parent, and ensures that Billie is able to educate her classmates in a no-nonsense way on what it means to be adopted and to have two mums. 

I wasn’t sure whether to include this book at first. It’s over twenty years old now - probably one of the first middle-grade titles where a character has same-sex parents. But while some attitudes feel dated, the story is still gripping and relevant. There are still many kids, like Holly, who love their families but feel like they have to keep them hidden to fit in with their friends. Holly learns that keeping secrets leads to bigger problems than the ones she was trying to avoid. Nancy Garden is a pioneer in writing for young adults about LGBTQ+ themes. She is one of my inspirations in becoming a writer. I hope each generation will continue to discover and be inspired by her work, just like I was.  

As a pastor’s kid, this light, lyrical book about a church community gathering awakens my earliest memories: the bells and banners, candles and choir, warm greetings, and toddler wiggles. This community offers something many of us lacked: “A church for all!” From the first image of a mixed-race queer family waking early for church to the assembling “Weak and healthy/ Neat and messy/ Poor and wealthy/ Plain and dressy” chatting and worshiping together—this brightly illustrated book captures a true spirit of inclusion. Like many queer people, I had to leave my first faith community. Later I was amazed to find houses of faith like this one. I even married a pastor. Young me couldn’t have imagined living out, opening a service with a book like A Church for All.

While trying to learn about gay life in the 1920s, I was delighted to find this novel, “privately” published in 1919. One soon learns that Bertram Cope, who comes to teach at an undergraduate college as he works on an advanced degree, has a relationship with another young male with whom he plans to cohabit—interesting that two men could openly set up housekeeping together, even back then. Meanwhile an older matron, an aging homosexual man, and various young women hope to attract Cope’s attention. Though seen by some as a trivial social satire, Fuller’s light touch and subtle wit mask an undertone of eroticism and homosexual associations. His anonymous, authorial, third-person narrative voice is humorous and incisive, revealing his penetrating observations of social niceties and the layers of his characters’ maneuverings. Clever and understated, the book implies much that is never declared.

I love romance novels with characters who care about others who are different than themselves. In this one, an extraterrestrial crash-lands on Earth and is rescued by a human man. They’re both emotionally lost, devastated by the deaths of their respective spouses, but as the man nurses the alien back to health, they both regain the will to live. The way they protect each other, despite barely being able to communicate, is heart-wrenchingly beautiful.

Escape often gets a bad rap—staying and fighting or enduring your circumstances are seen as more noble—but there are times when choosing to leave a demoralizing, unhealthy environment to make a fresh start is what you need to do to save your soul. In this book, a woman tries to disappear—and finds herself. If you appreciate books where unassuming sentences land like devastating little bombs, read this.

In this emotional tour de force, a judge falls in love with the federal marshal who protects him during a terrorism-related trial. He’s kind, caring, and ethical; he’s intelligent, hardworking, and competent; and he knows all too well that in many people’s eyes, none of that matters. That betrayal feels painfully familiar; his spectacular vindication, cathartic.

When it comes to fantasy books, it’s hard to narrow things down to only one book in Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series.

He was a master of satire and the use of asides to parody the tropes of fantasy while also telling compelling stories and building a world you could imagine visiting. If we’re going to annoy the people trying to ban LGBTQ+ books, though, I’d have to recommend starting with The Fifth Elephant.

As the kingdom of dwarves is in disarray over the disappearance of the Scone necessary to crown their king, a group of Night Watch detectives from a distant land must work together to solve the crime while dodging evil werewolves.

One of the detectives on the case is Cheery, a dwarf who causes waves for openly identifying as female (the dwarves follow logic similar to J.R.R. Tolkien’s dwarves in that every dwarf has a beard and gender… show more.