Books That Royally Screwed Little Abby Up (In a Good Way)

I was at Barnes and Noble the other day, and I told my sister after an arduous search that it seemed that the store still wasn't carrying the Dear Dumb Diary series, which was devastating.  Those were some of my favorite books when I was in elementary school, and I think a big part of why I liked them so much is because they had this weird edge to them.  That's an important quality to a lot of the things I like - it's gotta unsettle me a little, but in, like, a good way.  And I want other young readers to have the same opportunity to feel a little fucked up after reading something, too.  (Or adult readers - a good book is a good book, after all.)

So, it got me thinking, and what it got me thinking is that I need to compile a list of books that made me feel that when I read them.  These are books that when Little Abby read them, they left her with a pit in her stomach and a sense that she was no longer the same person she was before she had started them.

Now, this is not a list for the Harry Potters and Percy Jacksons - as much as I love those, too.  These are the standalones, the one-offs, a list of books that brings together titles that are well-known and titles that don't get talked about as much.  And keep in mind that I haven't read many of these in a very long time - all of these are books I read in or before sixth grade, which was over a decade ago - so I'm sorry if my memory is a bit fuzzy on the details and heavy on the feeling words.

Let's dive in.

1. The Dear Dumb Diary series, Jim Benton

“I'm telling you, the gorgeous of the world can actually look pretty intimidating when they scowl.  Imagine a snow-white swan with a scary tattoo holding a chain saw.  There's just no way to really prepare for that.”

As I mentioned, what I liked about this series is that it's fucking weird.  I first started reading them in third grade - before I was even in middle school, like the main character Jamie - and that some parents were upset with my teacher for having them in her library because the title had the word "dumb" in it.  But fuck 'em.  Obviously, Dear Dumb Diary is not the only middle school diary series, but it's certainly got the weirdest sense of humor, the weirdest illustrations, and still feels like a pretty realistic depiction of an angsty, incredibly candid middle schooler.  There are things from this series that I still reference to this day, such as somebody being the eighth cutest boy or the sentiment, "the problem with here is that it's where I'm from", which is honestly a pretty important idea to me philosophically.  And I got it from a book that makes jokes about plumber's smiles and mutant meatloaf.

2. Loser, Jerry Spinelli

“Because that's what you do, you stand up for your best friend.  And you eat lunch with him and talk with him and share secrets and laugh a lot and go places and do stuff, and when you wake up in the morning, he's the first person you think of.”

Read this in the fifth grade and I remember it absolutely crushing me.  (I read a lot of great books in fifth grade because my teacher had one of the best classroom libraries I have ever seen, and one of the best reading lists.  Too bad she's totally weird now.  Or, she probably always was.  But at least she gave us that library, and I will always be grateful for that.)  This is a book I would probably relate to more now than I did then, when I had my little sisterhood, so I should probably hurt myself by rereading it.  Jerry Spinelli is an amazing writer (who shows up twice on this list - and it's not even for Maniac Magee, which was another great fifth grade read), and this book encapsulates the feeling of being invisible and unwanted by your peers.  Which I unfortunately understand, but that wasn't for me to know when I read it.  Just good practice in empathy, which the best books all are.

3. The Wednesday Wars and Okay For Now, Gary D. Schmidt

“When gods die, they die hard.  It's not like they fade away, or grow old, or fall asleep.  They die in fire and pain, and when they come out of you, they leave your guts burned.  It hurts more than anything you can talk about.  And maybe worst of all is, you're not sure if there will ever be another god to fill their place.  Or if you'd ever want another god to fill their place. You don't want the fire to go out inside you twice.”

“Why can't poets just say what they want to say and then shut up?”

I put these two together because they're companions to each other, and I read them more or less back-t0-back in the fourth grade, so I think of them in tandem.  These are a couple I haven't read in a while, but what I remember is how easy they were to read because the voices of the main characters - Holling Hoodhood and Doug Swieteck - were so humorous, captivating, and kind as they dealt with topics such as the Vietnam War, religion, abuse, and cancer.  

4. Each Little Bird That Sings, Deborah Wiles

"You did what needed to be done.  That's what it means, Comfort.  You did the right thing even when, somewhere deep inside you, you didn't want to.  Because you knew, somewhere even deeper, that it was the right thing to do.  And...by doing the right thing, you saved yourself as well.”

This book is - I swear - the reason I think so much about death.  It had me sitting at my desk on the edge of my seat in my fourth grade classroom.  The story revolves around a family-owned funeral home in a small southern town, and it's where I got my favorite iced tea recipe.  I was the same age as the protagonist when I read it, and she's got a strong narrative voice that speaks confidently about big topics such as, well, death.  This is one I have reread many times over the years and return to time and again, like The Outsiders.  The big dramatic climax still gets me, as well as the idea that death is a part of life, and that is something this book made me come to terms with earlier than I might have otherwise.

5. A Season of Gifts, Richard Peck

“Fiction isn't what 'was'.  It's 'what if'?”

In the fifth grade, at Christmastime, our English class was split into two groups: those that read Charles Dickens' A Christmas Story, and those that read A Season of Gifts.  I was in the former group, but the reason I went ahead and picked this up at the Scholastic book fair the following spring was the cover and the promise of a story set in the mid-20th century.  There's just something I love about stories set in small towns, with its colorful residents and - in this case - a trio of PK siblings.  The story just feels cozy.  I haven't read its two predecessors, but I've read this one enough times that I probably should.

6. Stargirl, Jerry Spinelli

“It’s really hard to do nothing totally.  Even just sitting here, like this, our bodies are churning, our minds are chattering.  There’s a whole commotion going on inside us.”

Another read from the fourth grade.  It took me a couple of tries to get into this one, but once I was in, I was in.  And it's got a great sequel, too.  The book deals with conformity, and how we otherize people that don't fit right into the mold we've made.  Some things and some people are destined to stick out, and that can draw a variety of responses, ranging from rejection to popularity - and Stargirl experiences both.  Told through the perspective of Leo fifteen years in the future, who fell for her over the course of the book (and she with him), it examines what it means - and what it costs - to fit in.

7. The Secret Life of Bees, Sue Monk Kidd

“It is the peculiar nature of the world to go on spinning no matter what sort of heartbreak is happening.”

Holy shit.  Holy fucking shit.  This book.  I reread this one (not for the first time) in summer 2020, and it just always, always hits.  I almost don't even have the words.  Everything about this book slaps.  My friend read it around the same time I did and got us all matching whale brooches like the one in the book, which I still have.  There is so much in this book about faith and family and love and standing up to prejudice with all these wonderful, indulgent details.  Just...just go fucking read it.  And go watch the movie, too.

8. How to Steal a Dog, Barbara O' Connor

“Sometimes the trail you leave behind you is more important than the path ahead of you.”

After their father leaves, Georgina and her family are forced to live out of their van, bathing in fast food restaurant sinks and struggling with her school and social life.  But Georgina gets an idea to steal a dog, and then return it when the owner posts a reward for its safe return, thus bringing money back to her family so they can stop living in their van.  This book is just profoundly sad (as so many of these books are, which I feel could explain a few things), as so many books with dogs in them are (though this time not for the reason you would think).  The secondhand embarrassment is strong.  I mean, the girl steals a dog and befriends the owner while hiding the fact that she stole her dog because she's trying to lift her family out of poverty.  But, even for the sadness and embarrassment (which, I mean, is the point - you're supposed to feel those things for Georgina), the book is a lesson in forgiveness and doing the right thing.

9. A Crooked Kind of Perfect, Linda Urban

“Never trust an exclamation point.”

This book is a lesson in not getting what you want and making the best of it anyway.  Instead of getting a baby grand to achieve her dreams of becoming a concert pianist, Zoe gets an organ, which is decidedly less glamourous.  So, not only does she have to deal with a workaholic mother and agoraphobic father and a weird kid suddenly hanging around her house, she doesn't even get to learn to play the piano.  But, she does it anyway.  She learns how to play the organ anyway, and ends up surprising herself.  I remember feeling a supreme sadness and sympathy for her not getting her piano, and found myself relating to the book and Zoe's situation more than I thought I would, which might be why this particular selection enamored as well as unsettled me.  Also, I always wanted the socks that are on the cover.

10. Love that Dog, Sharon Creech

“Sometimes/when you are trying/not to think about something/it keeps popping back in your head/you can't help it/you think about it/and/think about it/and/think about it/until your brain/feels like/a squashed pea.”

I performed the poem quoted above for an acting class in college that focused on effectively using your voice.  Some people had longer poems so I worried that it wasn't a good choice because it didn't take me long to memorize, but was assured it wasn't the length of the poem, but the emotion that I could elicit by reciting it.  And the same goes for reading this book; I read it in one sitting, sat right by the bookshelf I had pulled it off of in my parents' room.  Poetry books tend to be quicker reads, obviously, but this one makes you feel like you've been hit by a car when you're done with it.  Bet you can't guess why.

11. Jeremy Fink and the Meaning of Life, Wendy Mass

“We are here because over billions of years, countless variables fell into place, any of which could have taken another path.  We are essentially a beautiful fluke, as are the millions of other species with which we share this planet.  Our cells are composed of atoms and dust particles from distant galaxies, and from the billions of living organisms that inhabited this planet before us.”

My friend recommended I read this, and I'm glad she did.  And - surprise, surprise - this one also deals with death.  (I'm sensing a theme here.  You probably are, too.  I came to terms with death mostly through fiction, it seems.)  Jeremy's father has died, and coming up on his thirteenth birthday, he discovers a box that his father leaves him that claims to contain the meaning of life within it.  He and his best friend go on a search throughout their city to find all the keys needed to unlock it, so it's also a fun adventure on top of a lesson about life and death.

12. The Anybodies, by N.E. Bode

“Well, children can do so many things until they're told they can't.”

It took me YEARS to track this book down.  Only just found it this year by describing it in a subreddit for books you don't know the title of.  This is what I wrote: "In third grade, I read this chapter book about this girl that had...some sort of mind power, it involved some pretty intense focusing on her part, and I think her mentor ended up being her dad? And I think her mother had passed away long before the book. I think the cover had her (I think she had red hair) and this old house behind her. And the author kinda broke the fourth wall at times and I think he had a foreword/afterword where he talked about this writing teacher he had who said he would never amount to anything with his writing and never get published. I know that's a lot of vague details, but does any of that ring any bells for anybody? I remember loving this book and I would love to find it again."  Thanks, random redditor.  I think I'm gonna give this one another read.

13. Bud, Not Buddy, Christopher Paul Curtis

“A bud is a flower-to-be.  A flower in waiting.  Waiting for just the right warmth and care to open up.  It's a little fist of love waiting to unfold and be seen by the world.  And that's you.”

To this day, when I think of this book, I think of the early scene with the kids sticking a Dixon-Ticonderoga pencil up Bud's nose "all the way up to the R!"  Christopher Paul Curtis is an amazing writer (I didn't even include his book The Watsons Go to Birmingham, 1963 on this list because it was starting to get so long, but that's yet another one that I loved).  After bouncing around foster homes after his mother's death, Bud goes on a journey to find family that takes him from sleeping under a Christmas tree to Hooverville to fictional jazz musician Herman Calloway.  I don't know, man - there's just something about stories about kids dealing with death.  Dealing with things way above their paygrade and making it through anyway.

14. Charlotte's Web, E.B. White

“It is not often that someone comes along who is a true friend and a good writer.”

I feel like I shouldn't even have to explain this one.  So I won't.

15. Ella Enchanted, Gail Carson Levine

“I trust you to find the good in me, but the bad I must be sure you don't overlook.”

Okay, this probably sounds weird, but the cover of this book made me feel...well, weird.  Like I thought it had a sinister vibe to it.  I have no idea why I would think that just based on the cover, but I did, but it didn't stop me from picking it up.  I think I can remember the exact shelf it was on in my elementary school library.  Of course, I had seen the movie by the time I discovered it was a book first, and I loved (love, present tense) the movie, so I figured the book couldn't be as sinister as I for some reason thought the cover was.  It's a great modern retelling of a classic fairytale, and now that I think about it, there is something sinister about this book: the stripping of Ella's autonomy.  Which is a heavy thing for an elementary schooler, but she triumphs with love and humor and gets to marry Hugh Dancy.  (Wait - that was the movie.)

There we have it.  I rediscovered some old, fucked-up favorites putting this list together, and it was nice to think about them again and recognize some running themes in what drew me to certain books when I was a kid.  Seems themes of death, conformity, friendship loneliness, and historical fiction were big with me even then.

I think it's high time I reread all of these again.  Sometimes, it's good to feel a little unmoored.  I suggest you give these a try, too.  Again - a good book is a good book at any age.