One of the great children’s authors of our time, Diana Wynne Jones, passed away last year. She was one of those astonishingly prolific writers whose nevertheless manages to create fresh plots and compelling characters with each new book. I just found these editions of some of her books designed by Nina Tara and now I’m in love with her all over again:

I’m a sucker for a dramatic book cover. I don’t often indulge myself — spending an extra $10 on one book means buying four fewer books at a library sale — but someday when science has cured our need to eat (no more grocery bills) and we all have free houses made out of holograms or whatever (no more mortgage), I will swap out every battered old book in my library for a lovely well-designed version. And I might start with these.

I’ll give you something to cry about, Fanny Price.

Yes, that Julie Andrews, the one who starred in the two most important movies of my childhood: Mary Poppins and The Sound of Music. She also writes children’s books. Surprising, I know. (But close your mouth, please, Michael. We are not a codfish.) I own The Julie Andrews Edwards Treasury, which combines two of her books: Mandy and The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles.

Mandy is a decent read: an orphan girl finds a little abandoned cottage and spends a year making it her own: mainly this involves a lot of gardening and fairly engaging descriptions of nature and hard work. And then of course love and happiness ensue, as in all the great orphan child fiction. It combines the outdoorsy details of The Secret Garden with the child-sized coziness of The Little Princess. It’s not totally supercalifragilisticexpialidocious, but it’s a little bit supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.

The Last of the Really Great Whangdoodles, the other book in this collection, combines a truly awesome and exciting title with a strangely boring story that I will never read again. I remember hating it the first time and after a few pages this time I just closed it up. Never has such a great title disappointed me so much.

Still, I would hang onto this volume even if I hated the whole thing out of respect for the actress who gave me so many happy hours as a child. Here’s to Julie Andrews Edwards: one of my favorite things. (I also enjoy whiskers on kittens and bright copper kettles.)

Joan Aiken

The woman has written something like seventy books. I read The Wolves of Willoughby Chase so often growing up that my copy is loved to bits. So why do I only own one other book by her? (It’s The Shadow Guests, also pretty great.) And why do I never see her stuff at library sales? (I think the second question answers the first.) Resolution: more Aiken in my life.

Louisa May Alcott

You know who is great to read when you have a lot of housework to do is Louisa May Alcott. Her characters elevate housework to practically a spiritual calling. It keeps you physically fit! It helps those around you! It makes you a model of womanhood or some such thing! I mean, when I think about this critically obviously I don’t want to pin my own sense of womanhood on whether I’ve emptied the dishwasher, but when you HAVE to do the work it’s nice to feel that it’s important. Also, if you have a bunch of housework you really should be doing, nothing is nicer than neglecting it to read about other women doing housework.

In seriousness though, Louisa May Alcott, while preachy, does feel like a clean little wind in your brain. She exhorts people of both genders to be honest, reliable, responsible, grateful, charitable and industrious. These are important qualities at any time, and the reminder is especially valuable at this often-materialistic time of year.