The most recommended friendship books

The entire Wings of Fire series has stories full of mystery and adventure. And the best part is that the main characters are dragons. This is an animal-based fantasy where the dragons have to end a war. Dragons are definitely one of my favorites! I highly recommend this series to my peers (around my age, 10+). 

My daughter loved how scary this book was. She often complains to me that books for kids aren’t done right; they’re not very scary.

This book, however, kept her on the edge of her seat. It gave her bad dreams (which, she tells me, she wanted because it’s a sign of a really good book). She thought Jac was a great main character and she liked the friendship between her and her best friend, Hazel.

If, like me, you’re a fan of Studio Ghibli films like Spirited Away or Ponyo, then this graphic novel is for you. It not only tackles a story revolving around growing up with magic but it adds in many other things that many of us have struggled with such as family expectations, living up to your potential, and more. Of course, everything feels a little more exciting when magic is added to the mix, but those themes that exist in the real world ground this story and allow for a strong connection to Sophie, our young protagonist.

With all the gorgeous scenery in New Zealand, my family and I have thoroughly enjoyed getting out into nature by hiking on weekends.

In sparse but skillful rhyme, this book follows a group of families that go exploring together. A gentle story with soft illustrations, this contemporary picture book feels like a cozy classic.

This poignant, tragi-comedy of a novel is both relatable and uplifting.

And though the protagonist is going through a bit of a crisis, it’s ultimately a story of a woman finding herself and coming into her own.

Grace’s relationship with her teenage daughter is so well described – as mum of a teen girl I recognised the sadness she felt when she realised her daughter needed her less than she’d used to.

Maddie, a pilot, and Verity, an SOE agent, are two girls from very different pre-war lives who forge a deep friendship during World War II.

Verity has been captured and, while being interrogated in France, is forced to write a confession. Into this, she weaves the story of how she and Maddie came to know each other. Maddie’s version of events comes later in the book and provides a different reading of what happened. To say more would involve spoilers, so I won’t go any further.

I was gripped by the plotting – Verity is under a death sentence – and by the vivid writing: two young women pouring their all onto the pages. It’s a harrowing read at times, thrilling, beautiful, and heartbreaking. And it’s the first book that’s made me cry for a very long time.

I’ve always loved animal fantasy, but this book felt unique. Instead of turning animals into mini-people, it explores and celebrates their lives in nature.

Here, ordinary critters I know from my own backyard and bird feeder take on big ecological themes of community, care, and the important place of every creature–even predators. The main character, a storytelling rabbit named Buttercup, also validated my sense of the importance of stories in understanding our lives. The book’s satisfying close thrilled my childhood wish to reach out and talk to nature in its own words.

In a not-very-distant future, Ben finds a robot at the bottom of the garden. Not one of the usual, fancy AI robots, but a rusty, creaky, and distinctly quirky one. Ben decides to keep the robot, whose name is Tang, over the protests of his wife. But Tang isn’t well, and Ben finds himself more and more invested in both Tang’s well-being and in finding out where the robot came from. This leads to a strange and beautiful buddy-road-trip style tale, as Ben and Tang trek across half the world to find Tang’s maker and, hopefully, the repairs Tang needs. And they find much more besides, as does the reader – discoveries about friendship and love and life and humanity.

Absurd, funny, ingenious, sad, and violent, this book is an ode to Belfast. The first line – and I’m big into first lines – runs: “All stories are love stories.” Are they? Are they not? I still don’t know. Yet that’s the nature of the characters here, the nature of this cynical society too, back in 1994 as the ceasefire trembled into life and everyone was confused by the silence. So, ceasefire time, an obese Protestant waster cashes in by selling ‘ethnic accessories,’ including walking sticks for leprechauns. And his erudite, tough Catholic mate prowls Belfast while getting hassled and thinking deeply about getting laid. Self-appointed ‘revolutionaries’ get torn a new one here, and rightly so. All of Wilson’s books are blunt among the beautiful. Sadly there’s all too few of them.

My newspaper comic strip had just finished its run, and I was looking for my next big thing. That’s when I came across Diary of a Wimpy Kid.

The drawings were simple and hilarious, and the clever writing didn’t seem to be just for kids. Greg Heffley has this flawed prickly everyman edge which makes him easy to identify with. But as good as this book and series are, I was more impressed with the new way Jeff Kinney had found to sneak comics into chapter books.