This post was originally published in 2018. With a new film adaptation of Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret? on the way, we're revisiting the topic with more of our editors' favorite picks.
In children’s books, something awful usually happens to the adults, leaving the young heroes to solve whatever horrible problem has befallen them on their own. Within the safe spaces of these stories, kids can start staking out the freedom to become their own person, without the ever-present safety of their parents.
And then, one day, a book comes along that challenges our childish view of the world once and for all. Maybe we snuck it off our grandma’s nightstand, got it from the library, or secretly borrowed it from a friend. We learn that the world is a little darker and meaner than we thought, and also richer and more sensuous. Gently, we find the space to start maturing into the adults we must become ourselves someday.
Here are the books that first nudged our editors into the grown-up world. What were yours?
Editor Tricia, Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret
My dad loved Judy Blume and pushed Superfudge with a passion—it was something the whole family could read together and one of the first book series I read on my own. But Margaret was different. It was the first Blume book I was led to think of as "subversive." My older sister, who was and can still be a little "Lucy-esque," said I wouldn’t understand it. Then I found her well-worn paperback copy not-so-discreetly sticking out among the other books on the shelf. It was a plant, I’m sure, and I took the bait. So, at age nine, I hid in a closet, flashlight in hand, to read this forbidden text. Its revelations left me simultaneously enlightened and full of questions—as all good books should.
Editor Seth, High Fidelity
As a card-carrying music snob, I think back on my formative musical experiences with fondness, if not fuzziness. But I will never forget my introduction to High Fidelity. After a long drive and my first taste of punk, my dad gave me a book he said would rock my world. With the Ramones and Sex Pistols ringing in my ears, I opened the tattered and dog-eared copy. High Fidelity took what had been a passing interest and molded it into an identity. In his razor-sharp rendition of a struggling London record shop, Hornby depicts a subculture brimming with passion, angst, and a disregard for modern norms. I never knew people could have such strong opinions on music. Listening now, it’s satisfying to recognize more of the artists mentioned throughout, not to mention realizing I’ve developed some real opinions myself.
Editor Yvonne, Pimp: The Story of My Life
I can safely say I learned about the streets from Iceberg Slim. I was in high school; how I got a hold of Pimp, I don’t remember. I wouldn’t have bought it, and my mother hadn’t either (she had a set of encyclopedias to pay off), but I know I was glued to this book. His was a fascinating world full of slick street savvy, lots of cursing, and terrible acts against men and woman. I loved the way Slim wrote; it was so quiet “you could have heard a mosquito crapping on the moon.” I also recall a friend warning him about falling in love with a beautiful woman—he said even the beautiful have to use the bathroom like everyone else. (Those were not his words.) Interestingly, I still remember the ending. I’m not going to tell it to you, but I will say it made me smile. I was happy for him.
Editor Courtney, The Clan of the Cave Bear
What I remember most about Clan of the Cave Bear is not the steamy sex scenes my mom and her best friend whispered about over Vantage light cigarettes, but the sheer heft of the paperback. Clocking in at 500 pages and adorned with a topless female caveperson, the book was a challenge just to sneak into my bedroom. Once I got it, I was disappointed to find it wasn’t racy off the bat but I eventually made my way to the "good stuff." Age and time have revealed that those parts probably weren’t so good for women, but back then they were the most revelatory words I’d read. Listening now, I’m struck less by the novel's sexiness than by Jean M. Auel’s vivid depiction of a prehistoric time, perhaps the most evocative feature of the series after all.
Editor Patty, Flowers in the Attic
I have a confession to make—11-year-old me was deceived by the four children on the cover of Flowers in the Attic. I was just coming off my Goosebumps era, and I “pretty-pleased” my way down the thrift shop aisle until my mom let me walk out with a copy. Two things ensued: I fell in love with the psychological horror genre, and I also began a lifelong complex relationship with coming-of-age stories. Listening to it now, I realize I was entirely too young for the novel, especially without any trigger warnings for its intense and at times cringey content. Mena Suvari's elevating performance, though, persuaded me to devour it all over again.
Editor Kat, The Collector
You can draw a straight line from the day I picked up my dad's ancient copy of The Collector to my adult fascination with true crime. At 13, I was too young to grasp every dreadful nuance of the story about a proto-incel who imprisons a young woman in his basement; nevertheless, I inhaled it in one gulp. Fowles plunges you into the warped, misogynistic logic of his villain, and then—just when you’re comfortably creeped out—switches to the victim's perspective, a narrative masterstroke that's since been endlessly copied. I've returned to this book several times over the years; now, I can savor the audio dramatization read by Judi Dench and Nigel Anthony. My inner adolescent has chills already!
Any fan of Stranger Things should notice the parallels here right away. Stephen King’s It is a small-town supernatural horror story starring a group of kids that self-style as “The Losers Club.” There is even a major plot arc in both works involving a missing little boy, a setup that provides limitless opportunities for action, drama and romance. No wonder it is so ripe for emulation! In a series chock-full of homages, It’s influence looms the largest, and the Steven Weber-narrated audiobook is legendary.
Editor Rachael X., The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
I was in second grade when I snuck The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain out of my school’s library unnoticed. Some words were too hard to sound out; others, I noticed, were covered in black ink. I especially didn’t understand the cultural significance or controversy surrounding the language. All that mattered to me was that I was finally reading a grown-up book. Now, equipped with the masterful twangs and drawls of Elijah Wood's narration, I can explore the youthful shenanigans of Huck and Jim as they sail along the Mississippi river—and the deeper questions about how this canonical narrative fits into the complicated history of the United States.
Editor Haley, Coraline
I first found my love of books with R.L. Stine’s Goosebumps series. Still, when my affinity for scary stories led me to Coraline, I had absolutely no idea that the first standalone novel I was checking out at the library would leave such a lasting impression. Nonetheless, here I am with the Other Mother’s spindly fingers tattooed on my arm, and endless gratitude to Neil Gaiman for scaring me so immensely as a kid. Though Coraline is technically a children’s book, its unsettling dive into the different perspectives (and differing priorities) of adults and children is sure to reflect the nightmares of listeners of all ages. On the other hand, I find my appreciation for both the mundane and magical elements of our world refreshed with every listen.
