100 Books Like Peach Girl

I did not see that end coming, and to this day, this book has one of the most twisted twists that ever twisted my undergarments. 

I‘ve been a fan of Mr. Martinez since Gil‘s All Fright Diner, so I knew to expect a twisted humour; and I do love the humour in this book very much. The premise itself is so funny, you just have to read it.

But in regards to the apocalypse, it showed me the apocalypse might be just around the corner, and if anything, it starts with me, and with us. We are the ones who decide if the apocalypse will happen or not.

(You just have to read the book to understand that one, trust me.)

This book lives up to its title in such unexpected, thrilling, and disturbing ways that I continue to marvel at its many accomplishments. It’s tempting to use certain genre terms to describe it: a fairy tale, horror story, thriller. It is all of those things, but it is also a brilliant psychological novel, a historical novel with few peers, and a work of such persuasive realism that it will shake you to the bone. Few books exceed their ambitions in the way this one does.

Shrek! was a book before it was ever a wildly successful film franchise, but the book bears almost no resemblance to the movies.

Yes, William Steig’s ogre is both vile and reviled, and he has a donkey for a friend, but the story itself is very straightforward, detailing Shrek’s rampage across the countryside on his way to meet a “stunningly ugly princess” with whom he can live “horribly ever after.”

Steig had been a celebrated New Yorker cartoonist for almost four decades when he produced his first children’s book in 1968. He wrote and drew Shrek! when he was in his early 80s. He breaks the cardinal rule of using simple language, but makes up for it with fun-to-read-aloud choices in vocabulary and sentence structure, such as “The irascible dragon was preparing to separate Shrek from his noggin.”

Sri Lankan photojournalist Maali Almeida is stuck in purgatory and determined to find out how he died. Maali is no saint, and his questionable antics—both his sexual exploits and the questionable work he took on during Sri Lanka’s civil war—come back to haunt him as he slips in and out of places he had been when he was alive.

I loved the irreverence, the humor, and the insights into a civil war I knew little about and I was endlessly fascinated by the portrayal of purgatory and the afterlife.

Long before Harry Potter came The Secret of Platform 13, and the idea of a railroad station where a magical doorway existed.

I grew up in a town built on the railroad. My grandfather worked as a mechanic at the railyard. My field trips were to train museum or train-related locations, so the idea of hidden portal there made perfect sense to my childhood heart.

Trains take us places, why not a magical world? It simply makes sense to me to find a magical world beyond a train station.

In this silly romp, a little girl, despite her obnoxiously doubting brother, goes in search of fairies and gets more than she bargains for. My favorite line was: “Then a mermaid arrived. She brought her own ocean…” There are ogre boogers (yes, you read that correctly), and the brother eventually becomes a reluctant believer.

Funny is always good. This is funny. 

There is a special place in my heart for nature magic and nobody does it like Roald Dahl!

After reading this as a kid, I was fully convinced that, when the time was right, I, too, was going to crawl into a peach full of amazing cricket and spider friends.

I love these types of books, the best magic stories are always the ones that feel right at your fingertips!

I’m obsessed with the theme of living your calling to pay your bills, rather than exclusively chasing money. When I write books, I write to shift readers, rather than writing according to formulas that could sell more copies. So, I love Masumoto’s book on growing peaches that burst with flavor and sensual magic, even when others suggest he grow peaches that offer more sturdy shelf life. An artist-farmer, he takes the stand for one-of-a-kind quality and reveals a truly abundant life. Taking us directly into his intimate thoughts and decisions, this book is about living your destiny, choosing to work with natural forces, being insanely tenacious, and transforming your own life in the process. He “listens to his farm” and his writing is so beautiful we listen to it, too.  

During times of war, children often wonder what they can do to help. When Polly’s father joined fighting in World War I, she planted food, stopped eating meat on Mondays, and wrote to her father overseas. But she wanted to make more of a difference. After her teacher asked kids to save their peach pits for soldiers to use as filters in their masks, Polly suggested her town hold a peach pit parade to gather more peach pits. She made signs, wrote to newspapers to announce the parade, and sent notices to other classrooms, schools, and Girl Scout troops. In the end the parade gleaned enough peach pits to filter hundreds of gas masks—all from one girl’s idea. I try to emphasize that each child can make a huge difference with seemingly small and everyday actions.

Bizarre, misshapen, and sweet, this is the Roald Dahl book I find most alluring. A much-beloved tale, the plot sounds phantasmagoric in distillation: a house-sized peach sprouts overnight from a tree outside the shack where young James is essentially kept imprisoned by two cruel aunts; the boy tunnels into the fruit’s pit, befriends the band of enormous talking insects within, and the whole gang embarks on an adventure where the peach bobs out to sea, is carried through the air by hundreds of seagulls, is attacked by creatures who live on clouds, and eventually comes to rest on the spire of the Empire State Building. Intrigue, humor, and rambunctious versifying abound—and the once-forlorn James is not only unvanquished but happy. Nice ending.