Books like The Happy Prince and Other Stories — picked by fans

It wasn’t long after beginning our family when we started collecting Chris Van Allsburg books, loving the moody feel of his detailed pencil illustrations, and this book, not as well known as Jumanji or The Polar Express, is one of my favorites. 

Losing its magical powers of flight, a witch’s broom ends up in the garden of widow Minna Shaw. While frightened at first, she comes to enjoy its quiet company and help around the farm. But after meting out well-deserved punishment to some children, the neighbor’s demand that she give up her companion, and it seems as if this unusual friendship will come to an end. A twist in the tale brings the story to a warm and satisfactory ending.

Wilde suggested this story be read aloud. My father, ever the storyteller, obliged. He adored Wilde’s other writings as well. I remember borrowing other Oscar Wilde’s books, as a young adult, from my father’s library. However, my dad had modified the ending of The Selfish Giant by eliminating the nail and blood part. I only found out about the actual ending years later, but somehow he had managed to keep the essence of the story regardless of his change to the ending. The Selfish Giant, is a vast story with all the beautiful seasons and all the tender love a human needs. I will cherish this story in my heart, forever.

An old-time favourite and, like Enid Blyton, a good link between picture and chapter books. It was one of my childhood favourites and one I have read to my son more than once. It is a story of the bullied overcoming the bullies and perhaps something that resonates with kids as the small foxes manage to outwit three rich men and their machines trying to dig them out. The fox characters are anthropomorphised and so outside of the ‘real’ and yet there is a strong sense of place, and although the characters of Boggis, Bunce, and Bean are exaggerated, they are recognisable and realistic.

I wasn’t sure how Cornwell could possibly make a Cinderella retelling fresh and unique, but she did. She roots Nicolette—who her evil stepsisters call Mechanica—deep enough in the classic fairytale that we get all the satisfying beats, but then Cornwell turns them on their head. I love steampunk stories, and Cornwell replaces the Disney-fied animal helpers with mechanical insects and a metal horse fueled by coal and outlawed faery magic. She also addresses some outdated ideas in earlier renditions for a modern twist set in a Victorian-ish time period. Though Nicolette is not the first mechanical Cinderella on the YA bookshelf, Mechanica is not a rip-off of Marissa Meyer’s Cinder. I enjoyed both of them. 

This book is a classic story that transported me to a realm where fairies come alive—I felt I could be there dancing with them, too.

I love the story's initial opening with the magical expression, “Once upon a time.” It’s like opening a gateway to my mind’s eye, imagining life in that country that was very close to Fairy Land, guided by the exquisite illustrations in the book.

I like also very much the simplicity of the names of the characters, like for example, “Princess Niente (Princess Nobody) and of the structure of the story divided into three chapters.

The end is sweet: “Journeys end in lovers meeting, and so do stories.” And offered me a pearl with the quote of Apuleius and the poem.

I just discovered this book and want to teach it in every one of my classes! Folk is a series of stories about the villagers in a tiny, closed-off island filled with strange rituals and a cacophony of alliances and grudges. Her language is simply thrilling, and the fairy tales are shocking in all different ways. We hear a different perspective in each story, so the book results in a fairy tale about how small communities work and what the ‘folk’ in them must do—and believe—in order to get along.  

Anna-Marie McLemore’s prose is so poetic and elegant that I sometimes reread sentences just because they have such a beautiful cadence to them.

This book is a reimagining of “Snow White and Rose-Red” with elements of Swan Lake and Latinx folklore.

Everything McLemore writes is magic, but this story weaves together everything I love about their work: magical realism, velvety descriptions, and fairy tales cracked open in new ways to shed light on racial and gender politics.

I love the complicated, loving relationship between the two sisters, and I love that the boy Blanca falls in love with has a complicated relationship with gender that is in part inspired by McLemore’s transgender and non-binary husband.

Three sisters vanish as kids and mysteriously return with no memories of what happened and a lot of strange quirks… in other words, the perfect set-up for a modern story about changelings! Initially, I was skeptical about this one because—while I shamelessly loved Twilight back in the day—I’ve also been kinda burned out from all the froofy falling-in-love-with-magical-creatures/worlds books that surfaced in its aftermath. (And c’mon. That cover? It practically screams froofy tortured teen magic.)

But let’s just say the marketing team failed here because while this book was beautiful, it was also kinda rotten, incredibly atmospheric, and genuinely creepy in places. The perfect read for a dark, modern twist on a traditional myth. 

The crime scene generally occurs near the start of a mystery—something incomprehensible and threatening the reader and detective will endeavor to explain by the book’s end. Sometimes, though, the world is the crime. In almost painfully beautiful language, this book sets us down in a frightening fairytale forest. We’re traveling with a failed detective looking for a runaway wife, but much of the investigative work emanates from the reader attempting—and often failing—to break through the atmosphere, through the visceral but unmappable feelings of danger and loss the text produces in order to find something that can be named, explained, neutered.

This is the kind of book that affected me sidewise; I never saw it coming, but it got me over and over again. The Spanish edition includes illustrations, the English a suggested playlist.

As a writer obsessed with folklore and magical realist fiction, I adore this book!

Based loosely on the Russian fairy tale of the same name, The Snow Child is set in 1920s Alaska and balances the ethereal arrival of a magical child with the harsh reality faced by homesteaders in an unforgiving landscape. My favorite elements in this book are also primary themes I aspire to in my own writing: characters who face hardship with grit, perseverance, and a deep connection to their wild home. 

The author was born and raised in Alaska, and you can tell by the detail and specificity in her writing. In this novel, the natural world truly is the main character, to breathtaking effect.