100 Books Like The Original Adventures of Hank the Cowdog

I love this book because of Enzo, the canine narrator. In fact, he may be my favorite narrator of all time. He is one of those narrators I would love to be friends with or who I would love to have as a professor or a spiritual guide. 

The first time I tried reading it I put it down because I ugly-cried in the first chapter when Enzo recounted the story of how he planned to simplify his beloved human’s life. Thankfully, a trusted friend convinced me to give it another try because it’s now one of my all-time favorite books. Coming from an English teacher of twenty plus years, who reads a lot of good books, I think that's pretty high praise.

Yes, I cried a lot in this one, too, but I also laughed and did not want to leave Enzo or the humans he loved so dearly… show more.

My dad used to read to me every night as a kid, and among my favorites were those of the whimsical Dr. Seuss-esque variety.

While this book isn’t technically penned by Dr. Seuss, it maintains the same whimsy through its illustrations. The simplicity of the text helped me learn to identify words as a small kid. Upon revisiting the book as an adult, I am also delighted by the blunt honesty of the illustrated dogs.

My dad passed away recently, and the memory of him reading this book to me has become even more cherished.

I read it in the 5th grade, and it set the bar for the type of story I yearn to read. It’s such a heartwarming story up until it rips open the heart. It helped me through a difficult loss in my youth.

I found myself walking beside the main character and his two dogs, enduring their cold hunts and sobbing over his loss. 

This one is pure fun. It’s hard to believe no one thought to make a female chemist the star of a cooking show before! The story is witty and original, artfully combining the hard truths of being a scientist and a TV personality in male-dominated fields, with femininity and motherhood.

Sexism is rampant (obviously, it’s the 1950s), and the challenges the protagonist faces often seem insurmountable. Garmus takes these difficult themes seriously, while delivering them with humor and a lightheartedness that makes for a refreshing read.

Like a lot of folks, I found out about this book when the movie version came out, Who Framed Roger Rabbit.

The world-building in the movie was so compelling and unique that I decided to pick up the book. And I’m so glad that I did. The plot in the book is much more complicated, and the social satire is even sharper. One of my all-time favorite noir mysteries.

Technically, Stephanie Plum isn’t an amateur sleuth because she works as a bounty hunter, but since she was never trained and tends to succeed despite her bungling and ineptitude, I consider her an amateur sleuth. Besides, when you’re sorely in need of a good laugh to release some endorphins, you can’t go wrong spending a few hours with Stephanie and her colorful cohorts. This twenty-seventh outing in the long-running series is one of the best when it comes not only to the humor, but it offers up a well-plotted story, and lots of red herrings. Plus, there’s plenty of Grandma Masur in this one. What more could you ask for?

One of my favorite characters in this middle-grade mystery has always been Chris Theodorakis, the teen boy with an unnamed neurological condition that confines him to a wheelchair and, for the most part, to his house.

Even if he can’t leave home—and even if people often look away from him when he does—Chris plays a key role in solving the mystery at the heart of the book by being a keen observer of everything that passes in front of his window. I love how this novel depicts Chris’s inner world to young readers, including his awareness of how his condition affects others’ perceptions.

More importantly, it shows how much people with disabilities and illnesses still have to offer. 

I laugh out loud at the awkward social situations Lady Georgina, 34th in succession to the throne of England, gets into.

Although she has been trained in all the proper graces, she is impoverished, and I find her creative, muddled attempts to figure out who murdered the body in her bathtub while meeting royal expectations endearing and amusing. I also enjoy glimpses into the mores of the royal family in 1930. 

This witty young adult novel cleverly up-ends the traditional vampire mythology.

These Australian urban vamps are sickly, socially isolated, and barely able to defend themselves. Fifteen-year-old Nina has been a vampire since 1973. She’s part of a group of vamps who meet once a week for therapy sessions to help them refrain from attacking humans.

When one of their members is murdered, they decide to track their enemy, assuming that once the slayer sees how pathetic and harmless they are they’ll be left alone. Ill-equipped for danger, Nina and her fellow vamps stumble into a world of guns, thugs, werewolves, and vicious humans.

This is a fun read, packed with plenty of suspense, a clever plot, and a nice sprinkle of understated romance.

When I cracked the spine on Patrick deWitt’s book, I knew I was in for a treat. Contract killers, endless bloodshed, and belly laughs? How could you go wrong? The novel is technically a Western, but represents a revisionist and darkly comedic pivot in the genre, following two brothers, Eli and Charlie Sisters, from Oregon to San Francisco during the Gold Rush on their quest to murder a man called Hermann Kermit Warm, accused of stealing from their client.

One brother, Eli, questions his purpose in this world, while Charlie cannot satiate his blood lust, all with deadpan humor, which left me thinking hard about the nature of violence and man’s capacity for change, and a little worried about my own dark sense of humor.