The Princess and the Goblin

by Robin McKinley

McKinley shares MacDonald's gift for writing young protagonists who discover hidden strengths through friendship and loyalty rather than inherited privilege. Like Curdie, her heroine must navigate between two worlds—human and magical—and the tension comes not from spectacle but from the quiet moments where trust is earned and tested.

by Diana Wynne Jones

Jones writes with the same Victorian-tinged sensibility as MacDonald but with a wry humor that keeps things from ever feeling precious. The relationship between Sophie and Howl has that same quality of unlikely partnership overcoming external threats, and Jones excels at making magical systems feel lived-in rather than explained.

by George MacDonald

Here's where I'm taking a slight risk: this is quieter and more introspective than The Princess and the Goblin, but it shares something essential—the idea that goblins (and other 'monsters') deserve dignity and complexity. Addison's protagonist must navigate court politics through kindness rather than force, and the emotional core is about building genuine connections in a world designed to isolate him.

by Megan Whalen Turner

Turner writes adventure with the same sense of underlying mystery that MacDonald does—you're never quite sure what game is being played until the final pages. The relationship between Gen and his companions builds on trust and revealed character rather than exposition, and there's a fairy-tale logic to how events unfold that will feel familiar to you.

by Neil Gaiman

This one's from the 1990s but reads like a Victorian adventure story filtered through modern sensibilities. Gaiman captures that same sense of a young person stepping into a larger, stranger world and discovering they're braver than they knew—but he adds layers of irony and genuine darkness that MacDonald only hints at. The fairy-tale structure is deliberate, and the romance between the protagonist and his companion has real stakes.