Jacqueline Wilson has received the Dame Grand Cross of the Order of the British Empire (GBE) in the King’s New Year Honours 2025, the highest rank in the order and one rarely given to writers. The beloved children’s author said she would “treasure” the honour, a capstone to a career that changed what stories for young people can do—and who they are for.
Her books have sold well over 40 million copies in the UK alone, sparked hit TV series, and filled classrooms and libraries for three decades. More than sales, Wilson’s legacy sits in how directly she writes about life as it is lived by many children: care homes, adoption, divorce, bullying, poverty, mental illness, and the messiness of family love. She doesn’t flinch, and young readers have trusted her for it.
A lifetime shaping how children read and talk about real life
Wilson’s impact is hard to overstate. As Children’s Laureate from 2005 to 2007, she pushed for reading that reflects children’s realities. She was appointed OBE in 2002 and made a Dame (DBE) in 2008. The GBE now places her at the very top of the order—formal recognition of a writer who kept faith with her audience even when the topics made adults nervous.
Her best-known character, Tracy Beaker, burst onto the page in 1991 and onto British TV soon after. Tracy is funny, furious, hopeful, and not easy to manage—exactly the kind of child too often softened in fiction. CBBC’s The Story of Tracy Beaker became appointment viewing, and later series like Hetty Feather and adaptations such as Dustbin Baby kept bringing new readers to the books.
Wilson’s catalogue covers a wide territory, but the heartbeat is consistent: tell the truth, and tell it with warmth. A quick tour through a few titles shows the pattern:
- Double Act (1995): twins navigate identity and change with wit and tenderness.
- The Illustrated Mum (1999): a child’s-eye view of a mother’s mental illness; it won the Whitbread Children’s Book Award.
- Vicky Angel (2000): grief and guilt handled with clarity that never talks down to the reader.
- Lola Rose (2003) and Cookie (2004): domestic abuse, control, and self-worth—stories that help kids find language for what they’re living through.
- Hetty Feather series (from 2009): historical fiction that still feels urgent, especially for readers in care.
Across schools and libraries, Wilson has long been one of the most borrowed authors in Britain. Teachers often use her books to open up conversations that are otherwise hard to start. If you’ve ever watched a class go quiet as a chapter lands—and then watched hands shoot up—her influence is easy to spot.
Wilson came out publicly in 2020, at age 74, sharing that she had been living happily with her partner of 18 years. She noted at the time that she had never felt “in a closet,” but understood that her readers might want to know her more fully. That moment resonated because it matched what her stories have always done: make space for people to be honest about who they are.
This past year, she extended her range again, publishing her first adult novel, Think Again. It signalled the same curiosity that’s kept her writing fresh: new audience, new form, same commitment to characters who feel like someone you know.
The timing of this honour also reflects a broader shift in how we talk about children’s books. They are not just a stepping stone to “real” literature—they are literature, and they shape readers for life. Wilson helped make that case, not with manifestos, but with stories kids didn’t want to put down.
What the Dame Grand Cross means—and who else was honoured
The Order of the British Empire has five ranks, from MBE up to GBE. Most people know the middle tiers—MBE, OBE, CBE—or the knighthoods and damehoods (KBE/DBE). GBE sits above them all. It is rare, and given for sustained, national-level impact. For Wilson, it recognises decades of work that widened the emotional and social range of children’s fiction and influenced how schools and broadcasters treat young audiences.
This year’s New Year Honours list includes more than 1,200 recipients. Literature and the arts feature prominently. Nobel laureate Sir Kazuo Ishiguro joins the Order of the Companions of Honour, a small group limited to 65 living members at any time. Novelist and poet Sir Alan Hollinghurst receives a knighthood. Actor, writer, and advocate Stephen Fry is knighted for his public work on mental health and culture, reflecting how the honours system credits contributions beyond a single field.
Prime Minister Keir Starmer praised the spread of recipients, saying the list celebrates the people who keep communities going—often without fanfare. That frame fits Wilson well. Her readers aged up, gave her books to their kids, and kept her characters in circulation not because they were told to, but because the stories stuck.
The honours system itself is debated, especially around its name and history. But for many in education and the arts, moments like this are useful because they draw attention back to the work. Expect a January bump in library reservations for Tracy Beaker and The Illustrated Mum, and a new wave of young readers discovering Hetty Feather for the first time.
Wilson’s path shows a kind of durability that is rare. Styles change, markets move, screens compete for attention. Yet the questions kids bring to books—What is happening to my family? Who is on my side? Why do I feel like this?—don’t go away. Wilson met those questions head-on, without sugarcoating, and with an open hand. That’s why teachers trust her and why children return to her characters when the house goes quiet at night.
The GBE won’t change how she writes. It doesn’t need to. What it does is mark, in public view, what generations of readers already knew: the stories mattered at the exact moment they were needed. And for the children who found courage or calm in those pages, that impact is not abstract. It’s personal.
As the New Year Honours ripple through bookshops and school corridors, Wilson’s shelf looks different now—OBE, DBE, and GBE in a neat line. The work behind those letters remains the same: clear-eyed, compassionate storytelling that treats young readers with respect. For anyone who grew up with Tracy, Hetty, and a stack of paperbacks by the bed, this recognition feels less like a surprise and more like a thank you long in the making.