100 Books Like Two Naomis

I’m a little bit obsessed with children’s books. I have an extensive personal library of books from my own childhood as well as my kids'. I’m also a person who has become increasingly, shall we say, concerned about the deepening of the culture wars in our society and the ways in which children’s libraries end up being the battleground for those wars. Children’s books matter; if they didn’t, no one would be trying to censor them. And I’d argue that children’s books about ethics and morality might matter even more than most. The five books I’ve recommended here are, in my opinion, truly among the best. 

I am a rabbi and educator who lives in the midst of a large Jewish community and a large Muslim community. But up until about 10 or so years ago, I had no Muslim friends. My wife and I set out to change that. (She formed the Sisterhood of Salaam Shalom and I benefited as a plus one.) I am also the author of nearly 100 books, a growing number of which are for children and some focus on the relationship between Muslims and Jews. 

Growing up in the South Wales Valleys during the 1970s and 80s, I witnessed firsthand the effects of multiple adversities on the lives of those around me. Life was difficult for many families in the area as they battled with poverty, ill health, and lack of opportunity. I watched many amazing, creative, and talented young people fail to realise their potential. This sparked a passion and a career for supportive intervention with families and young children. It is my aim to help equip the workforce to better understand and respond to childhood adversity, be trauma aware, advocate for children’s rights, and make a positive difference in the lives of children and young people.

I write about topics I’m curious about. When a friend’s daughter converted to Islam that piqued my interest in the religion. I started researching Islam, not entirely sure of where the journey would take me. Around that same time, I saw a picture in my minister’s office of a Syrian refugee and her young son. They held a handwritten sign that said, WE ARE FROM SYRIA, CAN YOU HELP US? I started writing a story about a Christian girl whose church is helping a Syrian refugee family. To enrich the book, I sought a Muslim coauthor to tell half of the story. Together, we read LOTS of books by collaborators. 

I write about topics I’m curious about. When a friend’s daughter converted to Islam that piqued my interest in the religion. I started researching Islam, not entirely sure of where the journey would take me. Around that same time, I saw a picture in my minister’s office of a Syrian refugee and her young son. They held a handwritten sign that said, WE ARE FROM SYRIA, CAN YOU HELP US? I started writing a story about a Christian girl whose church is helping a Syrian refugee family. To enrich the book, I sought a Muslim coauthor to tell half of the story. Together, we read LOTS of books by collaborators. 

When my sister got divorced, she and my nephew, Jordy, moved in with our parents. My mother was—and still is—a big music fan, and she decided to play the same music in her house that Jordy’s dad played in his. The music became a bridge; a way for Jordy to feel like he was at home in both places. I loved this and kept it tucked away for years before Here and There came to me. I feel passionate about helping kids find a way to feel safe and comfortable in themselves—no matter where they are or what they’re going through—and all the books on my list do this brilliantly.

When my sister got divorced, she and my nephew, Jordy, moved in with our parents. My mother was—and still is—a big music fan, and she decided to play the same music in her house that Jordy’s dad played in his. The music became a bridge; a way for Jordy to feel like he was at home in both places. I loved this and kept it tucked away for years before Here and There came to me. I feel passionate about helping kids find a way to feel safe and comfortable in themselves—no matter where they are or what they’re going through—and all the books on my list do this brilliantly.

I like Harold and the Purple Crayon as much as the next guy, but what I look for most in a picture book—or really any work of fiction—is whether it touches my heart. I write most often about history, and in those books, I aim to be as rational as possible, but as a reader, I deeply appreciate honest sentimentality—the kind that an author earns through authenticity rather than contrivance. It’s what I struggled to achieve myself when Habitat for Humanity asked me to collaborate with them on a picture book that evoked the spirit of the organization.

Why do I love dual-timeline romance so much? Because, for me, it’s all about character depth. I’m fascinated by what makes characters tick—those defining moments in their past that shape their inner wounds, their dreams, and subsequently, their reactions in the present. When a dual timeline is done right, I am fully invested in both narratives. And being able to watch the main characters fall in love not just once but twice doubles the emotional impact and makes their happily ever after even sweeter. Witnessing them fall in love initially and then earn their second chance in the present always keeps me riveted!

I have spent over fifteen years researching, collecting, and archiving the work of Fred Rogers through the Neighborhood Archive–an online resource for all things Mister Rogers. In addition to an established working relationship with Fred Rogers Productions (Pittsburgh, PA), the Archive site itself has grown to be used by academic professionals, child development researchers, television writers, and countless others with fond memories of their visits to Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood.