Genres

80s

Books written between 1980 and 1989.

Lists

Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret by Judy Blume

The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe by C.S. Lewis

The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Favorite Children / YA books from the 70's, 80's and earlier.

342 books — 162 voters

The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue by V.E. Schwab

2021: What People Born in the 1980s Have Read in 2021

1,317 books — 128 voters

Books Set in the Eighties

208 books — 91 voters

Tell the Wolves I'm Home by Carol Rifka Brunt

The 1980s are back!

75 books — 47 voters

Out-of-Print 80's Teen Series

79 books — 87 voters

I Never Promised You a Rose Garden by Hannah Green

That Was Then, This Is Now by S.E. Hinton

Steffie Can't Come Out to Play by Fran Arrick

Classic Teens in Trouble

273 books — 71 voters

Featured News & Interviews

It’s Literally Summer! 93 Topical Titles for Your Seasonal Reading List.

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“ The Lottery by Stewart Stafford It was New York, 1984, The AIDS tsunami roared in, Friends, old overnight, no more, Breathless, I went for a check-up. A freezing winter's dawn, A solitary figure before me, What we called a drag queen, White heels trembled in the cold. "Hi, are you here to get tested?" Gum chewed, brown eyes stared. This was not my type of person, I turned heel and walked away. At month's end, a crippling flu, The grey testing centre called, Two hundred people ahead of me; A The Lottery by Stewart Stafford It was New York, 1984, The AIDS tsunami roared in, Friends, old overnight, no more, Breathless, I went for a check-up. A freezing winter's dawn, A solitary figure before me, What we called a drag queen, White heels trembled in the cold. "Hi, are you here to get tested?" Gum chewed, brown eyes stared. This was not my type of person, I turned heel and walked away. At month's end, a crippling flu, The grey testing centre called, Two hundred people ahead of me; A waking nightmare all too real. I gave up and turned to leave, But a familiar voice called out: "Hey, you there, come back!" I stopped and turned around. The drag queen stood there in furs, But sicker, I didn't recognise them, "Stand with me in the line, honey." "Nah, I'm fine, I'll come back again." "Support an old broad before she faints?" A voice no longer frail but pin-sharp. I got in line to impatient murmurs: "If anyone has a problem, see me!" Sylvester on boombox, graveyard choir. My pal's stage name was Carol DaRaunch, (After the Ted Bundy female survivor) Their real name was Ernesto Rodriguez. After seeing the doctor, Carol hugged me, Writing down their number on some paper, With their alias not their real name on it: "Is this the number of where you work?" "THAT is my home number to call me on. THAT'S my autograph, for when I'm famous!" "I was wrong about you, Carol," I said. "Baby, it takes time to get to know me!" A hug, shimmy, the threadbare blonde left. A silent chorus of shuffling dead men walking, Spartan results, a young man's death sentence. Real words faded rehearsal, my eyes watered. Two weeks on, I cautiously phoned up Carol. The receiver was picked up, dragging sounds, Like furniture being moved: "Is Carol there?" "That person is dead." They hung up on me. All my life's harsh judgements, dumped on Carol, Who was I to win life's lottery over a guardian angel? I still keep that old phone number forty years on, Crumpled, faded, portable guilt lives on in my wallet. © Stewart Stafford, 2024. All rights reserved. ...more ”
― Stewart Stafford

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“ If you think the ’80s were dumber than the ’70s, either you weren’t there or you weren’t paying attention. ”
― James Lileks, Interior Desecrations: Hideous Homes from the Horrible '70s

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