Books like The School for Good and Evil

Kimberly Shannon Murphy’s story of unspeakable abuse by a trusted family member is as heartbreaking and harrowing as it is a testament to the importance of truth-telling. If only others had been as brave as Kimberly and spoken up, her abuse wouldn’t have happened.

I loved this story because no matter how hard life was, little Kimberly felt a “glimmer” deep in her soul—magic that promised she would live happily ever after. It’s a raw retelling, but I reminded myself that she lived it, so I owe it to her to read it.

She excavated these memories, bringing them out of the dark and into the bright spotlight where she now stands as an award-winning stuntwoman who defeats monsters on the big screen! 

Patricia Wrede’s Dealing With Dragons empowered me to subvert societal roles which are not to my preference.

The fact Princess Cimorene could eschew her given position and become a dragon’s princess, rather than princess to a prince, was incredibly novel. At the time, it was as surprising as the future reveal, eleven years later, of Fiona to Shrek.

Cimorene’s characteristics of being immensely capable and clever, with a refusal to suffer fools, are qualities I continue to admire and aim to cultivate within myself. 

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.

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.

These stories run deep in my blood! I remember my Mum reading "Cinderella," "Hansel and Gretel," "Rapunzel," and "Snow White," to name a few, and being totally enthralled, captivated, and scared all at once.

Reading this edition as an adult evokes the same feelings, but I also experienced a sense of wonder and intrigue as I read the lesser-known stories such as "The Boy Who Left Home to Find Out About the Shivers," "The Girl with No Hands," "The Nixie of the Millpond," and "Hans-my-Hedgehog." 

I loved discovering these stories, closer to the originally published ones in their first collection, Children's and Household Tales in 1812, as they are much darker and scarier in nature than modern versions, and reading what Philip Pullman says about each one is an unexpected delight!

As a lover of fairytales growing up, I enjoyed the fairytale elements of Rapunzel, which are interwoven throughout the story of Hailey, a sheltered, rich man’s daughter, who has been kept apart since the Impact.

With her father’s unexpected death, she’s forced to make a difficult decision about her future, because as a single, young woman, there is nothing for her alone in this harsh world.

I love that she doesn’t feel sorry for herself or whine, but makes the best choice possible available in allying herself with Levi. While she doesn’t believe in love, hope, or happily ever after, I love that her choice leads her to find happiness anyway.

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.

This book is so much fun. I loved how Jane was determined to fall in love with all the romance tropes and they backfire. It felt like a reverse fairy tale, which made me laugh and swoon.

And when the main characters finally got together, I was kicking my feet in delight. Such a fun story set in the small-town island of Sunset Harbor.

Verlyn Flieger is the doyenne of Tolkien criticism, and this collection sees her at her best.

I’ve often found that her brilliance lies in pointing out what’s been hiding in plain sight–and once you have seen it, your view is forever changed. “But What Did He Really Mean?” and “Politically Incorrect Tolkien” are my favorites, but there are many gems here worth excavating.

This book's heightened literary consciousness suggests a lifetime of practice, but it is, in fact, Gwendolyn Kiste's debut (she has quickly become one of contemporary dark fiction’s most celebrated, leading figures). Throughout Untether, the author examines both societal and individual forms of suffering (e.g. depression, dissociation, and the dangers of socially imposed normativities). My favorite piece is “Skin Like Honey and Lace,” which depicts a group of women who achieve social induction by taking skin from strangers and applying it to their own bodies. A staggeringly accomplished collection.