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As she proves in her first novel, Wondrous Strange , Toronto actor Lesley Livingston knows teenaged girls.

While the story of a long-lost, teen fairy princess in New York City might pique a 13-year-old's interest, teenaged cynicism requires strong characters grounded in the here and now, and at the very least a token hesitancy to take kid's stories and fairytales at face value.

No problem, Livingston demonstrates with her protagonist, Kelley Winslow. At 17, pale and lovely Kelley gets her big break: She will play the fairy Titania, the Summer Queen who quarrels with the Winter King Oberon, in the Avalon Theatre production of A Midsummer Night's Dream .

Next, Kelley meets Sonny Flannery, a long-haired dreamboat who is, in fact, centuries old. Sonny is a real Changeling, stolen from mortal life by none other than the real Auberon, Lord of the Unseelie. Yup, faeries do exist, as do Titania and Queen Mabh, the vengeful mistress of air and darkness.

Hunky Sonny belongs to the Janus guard, Auberon's henchmen, who hew pixies and befouled ravens and any other “fae” creatures, especially Mabh's minions, who cross into the mortal realm. Her demon hunters would see the streets of New York City run red with mortal blood.

Oh, bestselling Twilight , thou hast a strong contender.

Livingston's Sonny is a dreamy bad boy of the first rate. He starts off frosty but melts Kelley's heart with escalating acts of chivalry and selflessness.

Kelley and Sonny's stormy negotiations culminate in a faerie-lit date to Central Park's Tavern on the Green, and a re-enactment of the Bard's Midsummer Night's love scenes: “I love thee. … His storm grey eyes flashed, and the dark silk of his hair drifted across his cheek as he leaned in his head. Perfect.”

Groan-worthy mushy stuff? Nah, it works for a young adult audience. Livingston delivers with skillful momentum, in the same way she unveils the complicated faerie plots lurking behind the fabric of the everyday: Kelley is a long-lost faerie princess, the secret fruit of Auberon's “dalliances.”

With mastery, Livingston handles the dramatic agony of growing up as Kelley wrestles through her transformation and the mystery of her birth – is she or isn't she “an incandescent creature”? Alas, cruel Auberon and another fae, revealed later as the bloodthirsty Mabh, have saddled her with a legacy of dark power and terrible gifts.

As a young adult fantasy, this book has it all. Livingston conjures a chaste but heady teen romance, a coming-of-age story about the tyranny of hormones, the burden of parentage and the glory of young love, all wrapped in a gossamer bow.

Fantasy powerhouse Charles De Lint also creates a secret fairy world for girls in Little (Grrl) Lost . Instead of olden fairy courts and Elizabethan gowns, however, this book is more Goth and punk, an almost retro-homage to the feisty girl power of the Riot Grrrl movement.

Elizabeth is six inches tall, but never diminutive. She has neon blue hair, “chunky shoes” and glut of attitude. She sews her own clothes from scraps she finds lying around the house where she lives with her family, creatures called “Littles.”

De Lint's literary references, which he acknowledges more than once, are John Peterson's The Littles and Swift's Gulliver's Travels . Like mice, Elizabeth's family lives in the walls, scrounging for food and escaping the house cat belonging to the Moore family. The Moores are “Bigs,” or regular sized people, living in a suburb near a place called Newford.

T. J. Moore, our other protagonist, is nearly 15. She hates city life in Newford, having recently moved from the country. She learns about the Littles in her midst when Elizabeth runs away from home, screaming through the wee door in the baseboard the same thing T.J. feels about her new life: “I'm not that person. I don't want to be that person. I'm never going to be that person and you can't make me!”

It's a fantastic premise for young adult fantasy as the girls, big and little, mirror the push and pull of the teen years, a rearview yearning for childhood and the hunger for adult experience. In that tension, the girls provide a continuum for identity questions, undoubtedly the most important aspect of this book. What kind of a girl does T. J. want to be? Will she moon over boys and tell secrets about other girls to gain the favour of the popular kids? Or will she wear sneakers because they're most comfortable, ride her bike because she enjoys the freedom and find friends who like her just the way she is?

De Lint's storytelling doesn't equal the sophistication of Livingston's work in Wondrous Strange , but it does escalate to an easy-reading, plot-driven finish. De Lint alternates the perspectives of Elizabeth and T. J. as they venture to a local bookstore. There they hope to meet an author who writes about Littles and their lost ability to transfigure into birds. Along the way, the girls meet boys, both big and little, dangerous and kind. They learn about the perils of city life, both in dark alleyways and the secret Goblin Market. This is a book about easing transformation with the company of good friends and supportive family.

Timothy and the Dragon's Gate is more action-packed than the two offerings above. It features pirates and ninjas, toxic goldfish the size of sharks, a fleet of mysterious black taxi cabs, helicopter chases and, most important, a very old dragon named Mr. Shen.

Toronto actress and drama teacher Adrienne Kress follows up her excellent Alex and the Ironic Gentleman with a complementary story about Timothy Freshwater. At 11, the mouthy, clever Timothy has been expelled from every school in town, so he finds himself in an unusual internship at the Tall and Imposing Tower of Doom. There the dullest man in the world – CEO Evans Bore – pines for invitations to “fancy parties,” but to his disappointment receives only memos and invoices.

Kress has done a marvellous job parodying the towering egos of the adult world. Unbeknownst to the various big people, their pursuit of glory, love or money reduces them to caricature, which perceptive Timothy then exploits. This is how he steals a golden key from Evans Bore and becomes the master of an ancient Chinese dragon: by promising a fancy party in return.

As an old fellow with a long white beard, Mr. Shen looks human enough, but only because he has been sentenced by the king of all dragons to pay for his past crimes. As a giant blue dragon, Mr. Shen used his power with capricious greed, plundering jewels or gambling away fortunes. He wasn't evil so much as young, he explains, fallen prey to “all the usual trappings: arrogance, pride and incomparable energy.” Sounds a bit like Timothy – Timothy at his worst, that is.

At his best, Timothy is discerning and helpful, as he must get Mr. Shen to the Dragon's Gate in China, where the king dragon's spell will lift. Otherwise, kindly Mr. Shen will transfigure into a powerful dragon subservient to only to the golden key's keeper.

The tug of war between the grumpy, selfish Timothy and the empathic, patient elder never dulls the action. Kress avoids the major pitfall of writing for young audiences: heavy-handedness. Timothy's character revelations feel like short, meaningful epiphanies and not moral sermons.

The 48 chapters are short and punchy, with colourful narration of a pirate ambush, a rooftop chase with Shaolin monks, poison darts, a ghost and a girl (Alex, from Kress's first book) who can fence like Zorro.

At the conclusion of the tale, Timothy learns that some adults aren't so bad after all, and maybe, just maybe, attending school might be tolerable – especially if that school is located on a pirate ship.

Kelly McManus is a Vancouver journalist. She has a special interest in science fiction and fantasy literature and in particular identity issues in young adult narratives.