The Paper Dart
An ode to creativity and distraction

The Best, Diverse Short Story Collections for Busy Ladies (And Dudes, and Teens).

Here’s the deal: I don’t have a lot of time to read. And, if it’s been an especially long day, because the kids didn’t sleep, or the dog ate a dead bird at the park (that may have been today), by the time I do have a chance to sit down and read, my attention span is pretty comparable to that of a fruit fly (or a middle schooler after lunch).

So, short stories are really my jam. I love being able to read something deep, and thought-provoking, from beginning to end, in one night. Then, I can put the book down, spend the next four nights watching The Bachelor and scrolling Instagram, and eventually come back to my more intellectual pursuits without missing a beat (or having to re-read those first four chapters all over again).

In hopes that you, too, will fall in love with the genre, I’ve compiled a list of my absolute favorite short story collections (a few of which, TBH, I haven’t actually finished yet). The majority of those included on this list are written for adults, but I threw in one awesome YA option as well (heads up all you teachers of the middle grades).

I hope you find something you love, or that helps you see the world from a new perspective, or, even better, happens to do both.

The Short Story Book List:

Lot by Bryan Washington: Bryan Washington‘s stories are painfully real, and raw, but simultaneously lyrical and heartwarming. Washington has the magical ability to depict the messy, awkward, traumatic, and tragic events of everyday life in a way that is eye-opening, without being too precious or on the nose thematically. What I love most about this book is that the stories are all interrelated, but can also be read and understood in isolation. The collection tells the stories of the array of characters whose lives intersect in some way with the “protagonist’s”–an LGBTQ+, biracial young boy who is “coming of age” in a rapidly gentrifying part of Houston. I had to read some of these stories a few times over, not because the language itself is difficult, but because the narratives weren’t as “tidy” as I’m used to. This novel was so fresh and fascinating, and I can’t wait to read more of what Bryan Washington has to offer.

Buy It Here:

The Office of Historical Corrections by Danielle Evans: This was a recent Book of the Month selection and I’ve really been trying to savor it. As of this week, I’ve only read the first three stories, so I can’t speak to the entire book, but so far, so GREAT. Each of the stories I’ve read thus far is timely and thought-provoking. While each one deals with issues of race, gender, intolerance, and the role of social media in setting the boundaries of what our society considers socially acceptable, there was one in particular that really struck me, and that I have continued to think about for weeks. This story in particular follows a “troubled” college student as she almost “accidentally” (?) morphs into a more controversial version of herself. And, when she finally takes a minute to look around and observe how she is being perceived, she doesn’t backtrack, or apologize, but, instead, further embraces her new persona, and continues to push the boundaries, just to see if she can. The story is strange and fascinating and got me thinking about what really motivates people to so wholeheartedly embrace and endorse certain controversial beliefs and perspectives.

Buy It Here:

Interpreter of Maladies by Jhumpa Lahiri: Pulitzer Prize Winner Alert! I actually read this story collection in college, after I was required to read one of Lahiri’s other books, The Namesake. Both of these books are still on my living room shelf, as they were my first real introduction to new immigrant literature (not sure if that’s a real genre?). Both The Namesake and The Interpreter of Maladies focus on the protagonist’s struggle to assimilate to a new culture, while simultaneously clinging to, or being pulled back by, the emotional and physical ties of “home” (despite the fact that home isn’t really the right word for it anymore). Lahiri is a lyrical storyteller and a masterful shaper of real and complex characters, many of whom I still think about years after reading about them.

Buy It Here:

The Paper Menagerie by Ken Liu: This is a really fascinating and versatile collection of short stories. Including a blend of historical and science fiction, dystopia, fantasy, and a few more realistic depictions of the immigrant and/or human experience. ALL of these stories taught me something new, and really made me think, but I think my favorite was probably the last story, The Man Who Ended History: A Documentary, in which scientists invent a time machine that will allow one person to travel back in time to the Japanese occupation of Manchuria, and hold those responsible for the atrocities committed there accountable. This story opened my eyes to an important part of world history I previously did not know much about, but also posed some pretty deep philosophical questions about what history actually is, and who it “belongs” to. I would definitely recommend getting a hard copy (vs. audiobook) of this one, as you will probably want to annotate it.

Buy It Here:

The Yellow Wallpaper, Herland, and Selected Stories by Charlotte Perkins Gillman: I’ve talked this one up before, and won’t stop now! This story collection was written in the early 1900s, and is a must-read for anyone even remotely interested in feminist literature. “The Yellow Wallpaper” is part horror story, part feminist critique of the ways in which perinatal mental health disorders were, and still are, so often ignored and misunderstood by mainstream society. It is probably one of the most personally influential short stories I’ve ever read. The rest of the stories in this collection are simultaneously diverse and congruous, and would be great fodder for a woman’s circle or feminist book club. (If you start one, invite me please!)

Buy It Here:

Flying Lessons and Other Stories: This is an anthology of young adult short stories by some of the GREATS of both YA and children’s literature, including Ellen Oh, Jaqueline Woodson, Matt De La Pena, Kwame Alexander, etc. Most of these stories could be classified as “coming of age” tales, but the characters, settings and experiences are so much more textured and diverse than the stories I personally grew up reading. There are several LGBTQ+ stories included in this collection, and it’s an eye-opening and inspiring read for both kids and adults.

Buy It Here:

Ray Bradbury, Quality of Information & The Tragedy of The Capitol Coup

After the events of yesterday, I found myself scrolling through Instagram, and feeling really hollow. A lot of people were saying stuff, and a lot of it was good stuff, but very little of it had, as the great Ray Bradbury would say, “pores.” And not because the people writing it and posting it weren’t well-informed, but more because Instagram’s utility is in its briefness and immediacy. Everything I saw yesterday–and that I ever see–is determined by an algorithm whose sole goal is to encourage me to be spend just over a tenth of a second, but no greater than a minute being “influenced” by flashes of “information.”

The Instagram algorithm, and the internet in general, rewards users whose content elicits a reaction–whether positive, or negative, it doesn’t care. An article that thoughtfully lays out both sides of an issue, and causes one to reconsider their opinions in a way that makes them uncomfortable, or uncertain enough to feel hesitant about clicking “like,” commenting, or sharing on their own platform, will shrivel and die.

And as I was thinking about this truth (which is not revolutionary by the way, as I am sure even the most transient of Instagram users are aware of it), as well as the events that transpired in D.C. yesterday, I couldn’t help but draw some parallels between our current reality, and one of my absolute favorite fictional novels: Fahrenheit 451.

Now some of you might be tempted to stop reading here, because, TBH, it’s pretty alarmist and conspiratorial to compare our current reality to the truly horrifying dystopia depicted by Bradbury in his seminal novel. So I’ll tell you up front, I’m not trying to argue that we’re living in a dystopia. I don’t think big brother is constantly watching me (via a chip implanted in my body by a vaccine, as some might say…), or that our government is hiding some kind of mass conspiracy from us that will ultimately lead to our complete destruction (because I think we can all agree that a few of our key leaders are so completely incapable of keeping their mouths shut on Twitter that they would definitely have let that one slip a long time ago).

But I do think that, on a philosophical level, there are some important parallels.

Firstly, one of the important points I think a lot of people who have read this novel forget is that the dystopian world of Fahrenheit 451 was not created by an oppressive government, per say, but by a population who didn’t care enough, or know enough, to vote for anything different.

Throughout the book, Bradbury implies that even though the horrific nature of their current reality would seem to suggest that it had been forced upon the citizenry, it was actually chosen by them. Because, for them, and oftentimes for us, it is so much easier to ignore what is happening, than to really engage with it. Essentially, the world of Fahrenheit 451 is one that was built on a total rejection of information, education, and real human connection, and which values apathy and disengagement above all else.

I think that a lot of people who teach this novel would agree that the absolute best chapter is the one that details a crucial conversation between the protagonist, Montag (a one-time participant in the oppressive regime), and his newfound mentor, and former literature professor, Faber. This chapter is entitled “The Sieve and the Sand,” and we could spend about an hour digging into that title, but I’m pretty sure I’ve already lost about 4 out of 5 of my readers, so I’ll just move on instead.

In this chapter, Montag and Faber discuss what is missing from their society–the pieces that have, in their absence, allowed civilization to rot. And when I re-read this passage last night, I couldn’t help but feel like they are the exact same things that seem to be missing from our society, today. So let’s break it down:

  1. According to Faber, the first missing piece is “quality.”

“This book has pores. It has features. This book can go under the microscope. You’d find life under the glass, streaming past in infinite profusion… The good writers touch life often. The mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. The bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies”

Bradbury 79

When I think about what is missing from the conversation today, this is exactly it. When we call a group of “personalities” who go on TV to scream at one another and give credence to conspiracy theories (while openly admitting, on the sidelines, that their role is more to entertain, than inform) “The News,” we have undeniably lost sight of what “quality” of information even means.

When I was in college, I took a class called New American Literature. During one class period, my professor stopped our heated discussion and told us that we were talking to much (she may have rolled her eyes at us, but I could have just imagined that). She then made us sit there, in silence, and just think, or journal, or re-read the piece, and then only speak if we had a question to pose. No more “commenting” allowed, because it wasn’t really doing anything other than allowing us to voice perspectives that we already knew we had. If I had asked her to choose from the options Faber mentions in his quote, she probably would have told me that we were “raping” the text, and that she was really sick of it.

And when I look at the way so many of us, and our models on TV, speak with each other, or engage with each other online, we are most often doing just that. Very rarely are we taking the time to look at anything under a microscope, let alone the information guiding our values and beliefs.

When discussing why “quality” is important, Bradbury explains that people need to be “rooted” to something. That, if we aren’t connected to something substantial, and real, we grow weak, and feeble, and will perish as easily as Antaeus did when held off the ground by Hercules. So I challenge you to ask yourself, what am I rooted to, and how deeply have I investigated it’s truth?

2. The second missing piece is “leisure,” which is defined by Bradbury as something other than time to merely rest.

“Off hours, yes. But time to think? If you’re not driving a hundred miles an hour, at a clip where you can’t think of anything else but the danger, then you’re playing some game or sitting in some room where you can’t argue with the four-wall televisor. Why? The televisor is ‘real.’ It is immediate, it has dimension. It tells you what to think and blasts it in. It must be right. It seems so right. It rushes you on so quickly to its own conclusions your mind hasn’t time to protest”

Bradbury 80

In Bradbury’s world and, I think, in ours as well, people don’t like the fact that books provide us with the leisure to think complicated thoughts, and feel difficult emotions. Books can be argued about, disproven, rejected, and integrated into the very fabric of our beliefs and identities. A news correspondent, yelling at you through the TV screen, or via his or her twitter, is invincible. A meme, positioning one political party as more evil than the other is too simple to debate, and, as a result, is much more easily accepted, and shared, as a certain kind of truth.

Today, we are flooded with such small snippets of information or emotion that we don’t have the “leisure” to actually do any mental work around it. Or, even worse, the information is presented to us, but in such an angry or accusatory way that we are essentially discouraged from doing the mental work that would actually allow us to realize that we did, in fact, agree with and benefit from said information.

3. And lastly, Faber tells Montag that the final missing piece–the crux of what is missing from their doomed reality– is “the right to carry out actions based on what we learn from the interaction of the first two” (Bradbury 82).

In the novel, the “action” Faber has in mind is rebellion, and insurrection. He and Montag devise a plot to make copies of the banned books, and plant them in the houses of the “firemen,” and other government officials. They hope to turn burn down the system of oppression from the inside out. If you haven’t read Fahrenheit 451 in its entirety and think you would like to, you might want to stop reading now (spoilers ahead).

In the end, Bradbury allows his fictionalized reality to stray so far off course, that there is no possible avenue for self-correction. Ultimately, a society built and perpetuated by mindlessness can not save itself, and the story ends with an enemy force bombing all of the major cities. In the aftermath, those living on the fringes of society, who also happen to be the long-since rejected thought leaders of the old institutions, are the only ones left to start over.

So no, I don’t think there are any explicit parallels to be drawn here, because our society is not too far gone. We still have books, and people who read them. We still have evidence-based science, and a large majority of the population who believes in it’s value. We still have some quality of information, even though it is undervalued, and often difficult to find. And we have the ability to choose leisure for ourselves. We have the self-awareness to course correct, and retrain our brains to slow down and become more effective at filtering in what matters, and out what does not.

I know that this is more of a literary analysis of my favorite novel, than any kind of real comment on current events, and that’s largely because there are people more informed than me who I will be deferring to for political analysis of our current moment (and you should probably do the same).

But yesterday, I was truly despondent over the state of our country. I wanted to check out, and stop reading, and retreat into my own, insular version of reality. And I needed a book to remind me, as the late, great Elie Wiesel once said, that “the opposite of love is not hate, it’s indifference. The opposite of art is not ugliness, it’s indifference. The opposite of faith is not heresy, it’s indifference. And the opposite of life is not death, it’s indifference.”

And because of that, I think it’s important for me to stand here, on whatever tiny platform I have, and tell you all that I won’t be indifferent about what’s happening right now. That I will keep having hard conversations, and engaging with information, and trying my best to wade through the garbage that we, as a society, have chosen to let weigh us down. We can all do better (and a few of us can do a lot better), but the only person I can start with is myself.

Ray Bradbury’s Works (Affiliate Links):

What I’m Thinking On: Resentment and Intimacy in Life and “A Woman is No Man”

I read A Woman is No Man by Etaf Rum a few weeks ago now, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. It focuses on the experiences of a group of women within one Palestinian-American immigrant family, and describes a lived experience that is so different than my own. But I also found it oddly relatable, and it took me a while to figure out why.

Thematically, this book centers mostly on the impact of generational shame and resentment. Fareeda, the matriarch of the family in this book, spends her entire life learning how to keep herself and her family alive within a culture that places little to no value on her life. She has to learn to play a very dangerous game, which requires her to take huge risks in order to assert any kind of control over her own life.

And then Fareeda comes to America, and she is bombarded by images of women who are flagrantly defying the “rules” she has lived her entire life by. While, in the novel, Fareeda seems aware that the consequences her own family inflicts on women for engaging in such “rebellious” behavior do not necessarily apply to the rest of the world, what she sees “out there” somehow makes her even more insistent on keeping her own children locked inside the confines the cultural prison she herself has so much resentment towards.

Throughout a lot of this book, I couldn’t figure out why a mother would behave as Fareeda did. While Fareeda knows, firsthand, the emotional and physical consequences of being a young bride, and veritable slave to her husband, she still insists on the same, traditional path for her daughters. While she, herself, seems to crave freedom, the very idea of allowing her daughters to chase it horrifies her.

But then again, even having a child is terrifying. I often look at my own kids, and feel completely overwhelmed by just how much of what they will do, experience and react to is out of my control. There are endless choices they can and will make and, because my own kids live in a very different world than I grew up in, I have a difficult time anticipating the impact these choices will have on them. While it is logical, and perhaps even obvious, that allowing your children to experience making these kinds of choices on their own will likely provide them with the best shot at success in whatever “new world” they inhabit, it can be difficult for a parent–who oftentimes sees their child as an extension of their own self, or heart, or reputation, to cope with such uncertainty and potential loss. So, sometimes, even when we know it’s wrong, we try our best to control the uncontrollable–to force our kids to take the same paths we did, even make the same mistakes we did, because at least we know what the outcome of that path will be.

I think there is also an important lesson here about how resentment, and failing to face our own trauma, or intergenerational pain, can impact the ways in which we interact with others.

When I first started noodling on this idea, the best examples I could come up with involved men. When I was in college, the Greek system was a pretty significant force on campus. While not all of the fraternities behaved in this way, there were a few that engaged in a pretty stereotypical, and archaic brand of hazing. The older brothers, many of whom had been humiliated, or even physically harmed by their predecessors, viewed this abuse as a “right of passage,” or a means by which they earned their place in the brotherhood. As an adult, I have spoken to several former fraternity members who felt borderline traumatized by their experiences in these organizations. Yet, at the same time, they participated in inflicting the exact same trauma on the class below them. Why? I’m not totally sure, and neither are they, but I think it has at least something to do with an an oftentimes unconscious brand of resentment, and the feeling that it would be “unfair” to allow the next generation to get by so easily.

There is also a truth to the fact that people who suffer together, tend to form stronger bonds. I am sure that many fraternity members believe that their actions were justified in the name of “brotherhood”: that by causing their pledges to suffer together, they were actually providing them with the gift of true and lasting friendship–which, oddly enough, is oftentimes true.

I know that a lot of this sounds overly dramatic, and I don’t mean it to be a blanket condemnation of the Greek system in general. In fact, I myself was in a sorority, and remember it fondly as one of the best decisions I made in college. However, I was also able to form sufficient “bonds” with my sisters, and the only hazing I experienced was the suggestion that I participate in a drinking game, during which I could absolutely drink water or soda if I preferred.

And while my first thread of connection between Fareeda’s story and my own lived experience had to do with men, this specific memory inspired me to consider whether the same process might be at play in various female social circles, as well as in the version of modern American motherhood that I myself have experienced.

Because, as we all know, women can be judgmental. We see someone wearing something, or prioritizing something, or even posting something, and we make a judgement call about it, whisper to our friends about it, or even comment on it outright. As I’ve written before, in some ways this kind of gossip is beneficial, and serves an evolutionary purpose, because it helps us understand where the boundaries of acceptable behavior are, and makes it easier for us to fit in and maintain a broader web of relationships.

And at the same time that we judge each other so harshly, we, as women, also tend to value our intimate relationships above all else. We crave connection, friendship, and love, and many many studies have shown that women who invest more in their relationships, and who participate in more deep friendships, report higher levels of both health and happiness.

So, there appears to be some kind of connection, both in this book, and in my own life, between suffering–particularly intergenerational suffering–and the creation of intimate bonds. Between judgement and connection. And even though I’m still not totally sure what it is, I know for a fact that I have participated in it.

My most powerful memories of early motherhood are colored, or overshadowed by, the intense feelings of overwhelm, exhaustion and isolation that seemed to follow me around for months. I remember wishing so badly that I had help, or company, or a combination of the two. Then, one day, I was at the park, and saw another young mom I vaguely knew, talking on her phone while the nanny changed her baby’s diaper. This seemingly innocuous interaction happened years ago, and yet I still remember that my immediate reaction was one of judgment, and condemnation. How dare she outsource something that she should be able to do on her own? How selfish of her to make idle chit chat while someone else cared for her young child. How easy she must have it. How much time she must waste on frivolous activities.

I don’t think I even recognized at the time, that all of the things I was judging her for were the exact same things I so desperately wanted for myself. I craved connection, I was desperate for help, and I probably would have really enjoyed striking up a conversation with both the mother, and the nanny, both of whom were living an experience quite similar to my own. But instead I judged her from afar, justified my own suffering as “the right way,” and used the experience as a talking point when connecting with other lonely, worn-out new moms at playgroup later that week.

I know better now. And I try better now, but old habits are hard to break, and even harder to understand. So I read books like this one, and keep them in the back of my head, and continue to ask myself why?

Do we perpetuate cycles of suffering because we think that suffering together will bring us together? Do we think that judging outsiders will solidify our connection to the “inside” group? Do we force cultural norms or traditions that may be hurtful or oppressive on both our peers and progeny as a means of keeping them close, or out of fear that they might find a better way and, as a result, leave us behind?

Or is it more about resentment? And the fact that resentment, even towards those we love dearly, helps us validate the suffering we experienced in the past. Do we see our children, or our pledges, or other women in our own peer groups finding a new way around the suffering we experienced, and suddenly realize that it might not have been quite as inevitable, or as much “the only way,” as we once thought it was?

Either way, it all definitely has me thinking about the ways I will, and won’t, allow fear, and precedent, and unresolved resentments, guide the way I parent my daughter, and the way I ultimately will have to let her go.

Below, I have linked this beautifully thought-provoking book, as well as a few of my other female-focused novels. As always, I appreciate you reading, following along, and sharing your hearts with me, and if you’d like to hear more of my thoughts on motherhood, great books, and life in general, you can follow me on Pinterest (The Paper Dart) or Instagram (@thepaperdart). Have a great one!

The Books (Contains Affiliate Links)

Best Halloween Books for Toddlers and Young Children

I love a good holiday, and I have always particularly loved Halloween. There is something about dressing in costume that feels so freeing to me. When I’m Miss Frizzle, or Edgar Allan Poe, or a cow (yes, I did that one once), I don’t feel the same pressure to be “normal” that I do in my everyday life. Halloween is a day where we have complete freedom to be our most ridiculous selves, make each other laugh, and throw our healthy eating habits out the window.

Since having kids of my own, my love of Halloween has only grown. On Margot’s first Halloween, she dressed up as an astronaut, and was undoubtedly the cutest baby in America. I will also never forget the way she looked at her daycare teacher when she walked into the room that morning dressed as a full-blown robot. Her expression was the picture of delight, and surprise and I adored being able to live vicariously through her innocent eyes for that moment, and the rest of the day.

As my kids have grown, I have enjoyed getting to extend the holiday by creating some of our own Halloween traditions. We decorate the house, go pumpkin picking, make cookies and haunted gingerbread houses, and, most importantly, read a lot of Halloweeny books.

Below, I have complied a list of our current favorite Halloween books, both for my older daughter, Margot (3.5), and my younger son, Max, (1.5). I hope you enjoy learning about our favorite spooky tales, and let me know in the comments if there is anything else I should pick up and add to the rotation next year!

Margot’s Picks (For Older Toddlers):

Stumpkin:

This is one of our favorite Halloween books, and a book that will surely stay on our shelves well after the holiday itself ends. In this delightfully illustrated story, Stumpkin finds himself competing with his companions for a chance to be bought, transported to the apartment building across the street, and made into a jack-o-lantern. Stumpkin is a nearly perfect pumpkin, but is missing a stump, and by the time Halloween rolls around, even the gourd (!) has been chosen before him. In the end, Stumpkin’s dream still manages to come true, and the author leaves us with a lovely message about appreciating the home, and life, you already have, instead of spending too much time longing for something else.

Room On The Broom

This adorable rhyming book is written by Julia Donaldson, the author of everyone’s favorite kid’s book: The Gruffalo. The story follows a friendly witch who always has room on her broom for a new friend or two. After collecting quite the menagerie of companions, the witch encounters a frightening dragon who is thrilled to have found his dinner. However, the witch’s new friends are more than willing to return the kindness she bestowed on them, and come up with a pretty creative method of saving their friend.

The Little Kitten

This book is beautifully illustrated, and includes carefully placed cutouts that create stunning continuity between one page and the next. The trees and houses are embossed with shiny gold, and my daughter loves tracing the outlines of the leaves with her fingers as I read.

The story follows a young girl and her cat as they traipse through the woods, only to stumble upon another cat who appears to be lost. The young girl delivers the lost cat to it’s home, but soon realizes that she has left her own cat behind and is now lost herself. In the end, everyone finds their way home, and the young girl is rewarded for her thoughtfulness by a very special (and magical) neighbor.

Gustavo The Shy Ghost

There are so many things I love about this book. Firstly, the protagonist, Gustavo, reminds me a lot of myself as a kid: I was quiet, and shy, and felt a little bit invisible sometimes. But I also think that every kid, not just the shy ones, would be able to relate in some way to Gustavo’s plight of not being “seen” by his peers.

In the story, Gustavo is in love with the “prettiest” girl in town, who also happens to be invisible: an adorable detail that makes me laugh out loud every time I read it.

Throughout the story, Gustavo learns that he doesn’t have to be loud, or chatty, or particularly funny in order to connect with his peers. In fact, it’s the things that make him different, that actually end up making his friends love him the most. It is honestly the sweetest book, and would be an excellent gift for the lovably shy child in your life.

Gilbert the Ghost

This is another heartwarming book about a little ghost who doesn’t quite fit in. He doesn’t like to shriek or scare but is, instead, a little too polite. It’s a sweet story about being different, and still fitting in, and is another one that could stay on the family shelf well after Halloween.

Creepy Pair of Underwear

This book is an actual hoot. First of all, I’m pretty sure it’s impossible for a toddler not to love a book that has the word “underwear” on every page. Also, I’m almost positive that every parent has, or will have, the exact shopping experience from the opening scene of this book with their own child.

The story follows a young bunny named Jasper whose mom wants to buy him the plain, white underwear, but who insists on purchasing the creepy underwear since he is, after all, “not a baby” anymore. However, that night, Jasper realizes that maybe he isn’t as grown up as he thought he was, and that the creepy underwear is actually pretty creepy.

Shenanigans ensue as Jasper tries to rid himself of the creepy underwear, and the twist at the end is both sweet, and laugh-out-loud funny.

Frankenstein: A Monstrous Parody

We are huge Madeline fans in this house, so I was nothing short of thrilled when I discovered this book. It’s a parody of the classic Madeline story, but instead of little french girls living in a house covered in vines, the story follows a group of monsters in a house covered in spines. It is adorable and brings a huge smile to my face every time I read it.

It’s The Great Pumpkin Charlie Brown

I don’t think there’s much I need to say about this one. It’s a classic, with a great movie to accompany it, and is a lovely way to introduce youngsters to the whimsical world of Charlie Brown. It’s full of shenanigans and “poor Charlie Brown moments,” and a few sweet examples of the strength of childhood friendships and sibling bonds. A classic, and a fun read for both kids and adults.

Max’s Picks (For Younger Toddlers):

Plumply, Dumply Pumpkin

This is a sweet rhyming book about looking for the perfect pumpkin. (Spoiler alert: it has to be plumply and dumply!) It’s full of fun illustrations and “suspense” as readers wait to find out what on earth the protagonist is going to do with this perfect pumpkin. We have this one in board book form and it has been a favorite of both of my children when they were in the 1.5-2.5 age rage.

Little Blue Truck’s Halloween

Little Blue Truck can do no wrong. I find that all of the Little Blue Truck books are great for 1-2 year olds, as they have lots of flaps, and opportunities for kids to point out, name, and count, animals and landmarks.

This iteration follows the little blue truck as he picks up his now costumed animal friends on their way a Halloween party. The flaps allow kids to discover who is beneath each costume, and my son squeals with delight every time he discovers a cow or a duck.

EEk! Halloween!

Sandra Boynton never disappoints, and Eek! Halloween is no exception. This is a book that we keep out on the shelf all year long, and it is so much fun to read aloud. In the story, a group of chickens are experiencing Halloween through innocent eyes, and are a bit alarmed by the day’s happenings. They find themselves surrounded by ghosts and monsters, and are about to reach peak panic mode when the narrator tells them to “relax silly chickens, it’s Halloween!” My kids and I always make a lot of noise when reading this book, and it’s the actual best.

Spooky Pookie

This is another very cute Sandra Boynton book about a little piggy named Pookie who is choosing a Halloween costume with his mom. He tries out a bunch of adorable choices before landing on a classic that ends up “spooking” his own mother. A delightful read, and a real hit with the littlest littles.

And that’s all for this year folks! I hope you all have a fun, safe and very spooky Halloween, full of costumes, candy, and lots and lots of books!

Where to next?