100 Books Like Penguin Days

I know, the title sounds like a downer, especially for kids, but the book is full of new learning, acceptance, and even dealing with revenge. I loved it. And since the title already gives away the scary moment, your young reader doesn’t have to feel nervous.

The story, which takes place in Africa, is simple and powerful and even though the moment of loss is alarming and sad, the story doesn’t slide into sentimentality. In the end, Pedru, the main character, is able to put away his need for revenge and ultimately embrace lion conservation. The book transported me to Africa and lion country. It made me think, too, about hard forgiveness. The best kids’ books are ones that intrigue us as adults. Nailed.

Mercy stole my heart from the very first page. Although more accurately, it’s Mercy’s eccentric foster aunts who did the initial stealing. Their quirky excuse notes—one says Mercy has “the collywobbles,” another that she can’t participate in inter-house cross-country because she “has a bone in her leg”—is just a taste of the humor to come. The story in this gem from South Africa is complex and surprisingly powerful with its focus on Gandhi’s response to discrimination as he traveled through South Africa and how he lived the Sanskrit word satyagraha, which means truth and polite insistence. I was fascinated by South Africa’s complicated ethnic diversity, not unlike America’s complicated diversity, which made the message of satyagraha even more potent for me. 

Third-grader J.D. has the entrepreneurial and problem-solving spirit I adore. Great at cutting hair, he starts a barbershop in his bedroom! But when the town barbershop loses business because J.D’s charging less than they do, they challenge him to a barber battle. The story made me laugh out loud and cheer for J.D.

Suki is a treasure. She’s courageous and irrepressible and a perfect role model for every young girl of any nationality. Suki decides to wear a kimono to school on her first day of first grade. The kimono, a gift from her grandmother, is full of warm memories. As you can imagine, some of the other kids initially laugh at her—including her own sisters. But in the end, she wins her classmates over with an impromptu dance that captures the joy of a summer festival with her grandmother. I love how this spirited story teaches kids of any culture to embrace who they are. Stephane Jorisch’s playful watercolor and ink illustrations capture the spirit of the book perfectly.

Steph has a way with words, that will make you laugh and cry at the same time.

Her survival guide to therapy takes us on a journey that I entirely identify with – trying to find therapy for all of our ‘problems’ from therapists who don’t really get it. I learned so much (and know now what to do) and enjoyed myself along the way.

This book isn’t objectively funny, but it left me with a smile on my face. It has a well-written, believable, neurodiverse character who grabbed my heart. I have a child on the autistic spectrum, and Booth captured the essence of autism without slipping into the depressing parts.

Nexus’s confusion over things “normal” people do, for example, tickled my funny bone but didn’t make me laugh. The characters who help him on his journey aren’t sappy do-gooders but people who genuinely like him and want to help. The overall tone of the book made me believe the world could be a better place. 

Corinne Duyvis is autistic, and so is the narrator for this book, Denise. Unsurprisingly, given she shares the disorder, Duyvis has absolutely nailed this aspect of the character. As an autistic person myself, Denise feels relatable to me in a way that few fictional protagonists do. 

While other characters in the book struggle to understand her, her habits and mannerisms frequently make me say, “Hey! That’s like me!” Nothing beats having that experience with a character, and the book’s story, which sees Denise use her unique talents to attempt to secure a place for her family on a generation ship fleeing from catastrophe on Earth, is well-crafted and gripping throughout. 

This is a speculative novel, asking readers: how might we use technology to replicate loved ones before they pass, so in a way, no one ever has to die? How would we want to remember them? How do we process and avoid grief through technology? And how might technology with an ableist focus create an erasure of neurodivergence?

The novel gives this speculative backdrop but focuses on authentic interactions and a beautiful relationship between the autistic protagonist Cora and her ADHD friend Adrien. The way Cora and Adrien express the pressure a neurotypical society imposes on neurodivergent people is resonant and nuanced. It also does a great job of showing the similarities and differences between autism and ADHD in a compelling way.

When my daughter was diagnosed as autistic aged 10, I was desperate to be able to describe her and her ‘condition’ to the school so they would know how best to help her.

I was so grateful to discover this book by Clare Sainsbury (of the supermarket family), who is autistic herself. In it, she describes her schoolgirl experience and how she felt like a 'Martain in the Playground.' She was eight or nine when she realized she was ‘different in some nameless but all-pervasive way.’

I found reading this book to be nerve-wracking and heartbreaking but necessary. It looked into how my daughter was likely feeling every day. In a way, it was a guidebook for my own child. 

This was one of the most honest books I have ever read.

Marian shares her life story with utter candour, from her early life up until her autism diagnosis as an adult. Her anecdotes and tales or faux pas and other social screw-ups are so relatable and she made me want to give her a hug in pure solidarity. I feel your pain, Marian!