52 Books Like The Power of Play

I grew up in the 1950s with a public playground in my backyard. I spent all my free time there once my homework and chores were done. It became the bedrock of my early development and, in many ways, my best friend. Later, leading two corporations, I saw many younger employees who hadn’t grown up on a playground. They often relied on ‘group think,’ believing another meeting would solve their problems, yet struggled to take true ownership. At my employees’ and wife’s suggestion, I wrote The Death of the Playground to capture the principles of free play and creative thought—lessons once learned firsthand but now largely lost.

I grew up in the 1950s with a public playground in my backyard. I spent all my free time there once my homework and chores were done. It became the bedrock of my early development and, in many ways, my best friend. Later, leading two corporations, I saw many younger employees who hadn’t grown up on a playground. They often relied on ‘group think,’ believing another meeting would solve their problems, yet struggled to take true ownership. At my employees’ and wife’s suggestion, I wrote The Death of the Playground to capture the principles of free play and creative thought—lessons once learned firsthand but now largely lost.

I grew up in the 1950s with a public playground in my backyard. I spent all my free time there once my homework and chores were done. It became the bedrock of my early development and, in many ways, my best friend. Later, leading two corporations, I saw many younger employees who hadn’t grown up on a playground. They often relied on ‘group think,’ believing another meeting would solve their problems, yet struggled to take true ownership. At my employees’ and wife’s suggestion, I wrote The Death of the Playground to capture the principles of free play and creative thought—lessons once learned firsthand but now largely lost.

I grew up in the 1950s with a public playground in my backyard. I spent all my free time there once my homework and chores were done. It became the bedrock of my early development and, in many ways, my best friend. Later, leading two corporations, I saw many younger employees who hadn’t grown up on a playground. They often relied on ‘group think,’ believing another meeting would solve their problems, yet struggled to take true ownership. At my employees’ and wife’s suggestion, I wrote The Death of the Playground to capture the principles of free play and creative thought—lessons once learned firsthand but now largely lost.

I’ve always enjoyed books that make me think and question. I love that they lead me to further brilliant works that do the same. I love a book that challenges the rules of writing and takes you into another world. As a full-time thriller writer, it’s always good to read a genre different from your own. To enter a realm of magical realism is fantastic.

I’ve always been a fan of short fiction. My debut book, The Escape to Candyland, is a collection of interrelated short stories. It was a finalist in two contests: The Restless Books Prize for New Immigrant Writing and Southern Fried Karma Novel Contest. My latest book, Sometimes We Fall, is also a short story collection. It includes several contest winners. I’m working on a third collection which will be published in 2024.

As a primary head teacher, then literacy consultant, I wrote many books about education but at the age of 50 I changed tack. A meeting with a researcher who’d discovered an alarming decline in young children’s listening skills led to eight years’ research on the effects of modern lifestyles on children’s development. It involved many interviews with experts on diet, sleep, play, language, family life, childcare, education, screen-time, marketing influences and parenting styles – and a great deal of reading. By the time Toxic Childhood was first published in 2006 I’d realised that, in a 21st century culture, society should be paying far more attention to child development, especially in the early years. I hope to go on spreading that message until my dying breath.

I’m a developmental psychologist and former professor of education. My life’s work and 10 books have focused on helping families and schools foster good character in kids. Educating for Character: How Our Schools Can Teach Respect and Responsibility is credited with helping launch the national character education movement. My first book for parents, Raising Good Children, described how to guide kids through the stages of moral development from birth through adulthood. My focus these days is kindness and its supporting virtues. My wife Judith and I have two grown sons and 15 grandchildren, and with William Boudreau, MD, co-authored Sex, Love, and You: Making the Right Decision, a book for teens.

Erica Komisar is a licensed clinical social worker, psychoanalyst, and parent guidance expert who has been in private practice in New York City for over 30 years. A graduate of Georgetown and Columbia Universities and The New York Freudian Society, Ms. Komisar is a psychological consultant bringing parenting and work/life workshops to clinics, schools, corporations, and childcare settings. She is a contributor to The Wall Street Journal, The Washington Post, and The New York Daily News. She is a Contributing Editor to The Institute For Family Studies and appears regularly on Fox and Friends and Fox 5 News. 

As a primary head teacher, then literacy consultant, I wrote many books about education but at the age of 50 I changed tack. A meeting with a researcher who’d discovered an alarming decline in young children’s listening skills led to eight years’ research on the effects of modern lifestyles on children’s development. It involved many interviews with experts on diet, sleep, play, language, family life, childcare, education, screen-time, marketing influences and parenting styles – and a great deal of reading. By the time Toxic Childhood was first published in 2006 I’d realised that, in a 21st century culture, society should be paying far more attention to child development, especially in the early years. I hope to go on spreading that message until my dying breath.