In honor of Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month, we asked eight authors of new books ranging from picture books to YA about highlighting their cultures, history, and traditions for young readers.


Christine Alemshah

The balikbayan box is a care package for relatives in the Philippines. Why was this tradition important to you to highlight?

I longed to capture the vibe in this line from Bea’s Balikbayan Box of Treasures: “We all write special notes and cards. Because we’re sending more than just treasures. We’re sending our love.”

Sending balikbayan boxes is a physical expression of connection to loved ones who live apart from one another. It connects families to the Philippines, even for children who may not have lived there themselves. I’m honored that Bea’s story helps open doors to conversations around shared family traditions. It reinforces bonds to heritage and instills a sense of belonging.

Do you have any memories of creating one yourself?

My favorite memory is when I packed a balikbayan box of treasures for my Lola [grandmother] a few years ago. She resides in a rural village in Iba, Zambales. I sent her letters and artwork from her great-grandchildren, a framed family photo, tea, and spices for cooking. I remember her embracing the family photo when we met on a video call afterward. I felt the warmth of that hug across the miles. I’m grateful I had the opportunity to connect with my Lola in such a meaningful way!

Why did you choose to portray the perspectives of both the giver and receiver?

Both perspectives are rooted in gratitude. Giving and receiving present opportunities for growth and fellowship with others. I hoped to provide a universal experience for young readers and their families. The book’s back matter further expands upon this idea, inspiring children to create their own care packages for loved ones.

Bea’s Balikbayan Box of Treasures by Christine Alemshah, illus. by Dream Chen. Free Spirit, July 15 $18.99 ISBN 979-8-88554-641-6


Livia Blackburne

Your work centers on the Los Angeles Chinatown Massacre of 1871. What went into your decision to write Dreams to Ashes as a picture book rather than a book for older readers?

After I had my daughter, I fell in love with picture books as a format. Not only are they beautiful, but [illustrated] nonfiction books are a fantastic way to get information across, even to adults who may be too busy to dive into a full-length nonfiction book. Also, I wanted to write about this event, but for my own mental health, I didn't want to stay immersed in the topic for too long. A picture book felt like the right amount of contact.

Even with these reasons, I don’t think I would have attempted a picture book had I not read and been deeply moved by Carole Boston Weatherford’s Unspeakable, which showed me that publishing a picture book about dark topics is possible.

What aspects of the event did you want to highlight for young readers? Were there any aspects that you didn’t want to focus on too closely?

Because of the younger audience, we wanted to be very mindful about the extent to which we described the violence. Instead of dwelling on specifics, I wanted instead to highlight the bigger picture: the racism and xenophobia in the years leading up to the attack, and how that exploded into tragedy. My editor and I also wanted to make sure that we humanized the victims. They weren’t just nameless statistics, but people with hopes and dreams, whose lives were tragically cut short.

What do you hope children take away from this book?

I would like them to come away seeing immigrants as human beings who are worthy of dignity and respect. I would also like them to understand the social forces by which that respect can be stripped away, and the devastating consequences when that happens. I hope they are motivated by this insight to work for a society that respects all its members.

Dreams to Ashes: The 1871 Los Angeles Chinatown Massacre by Livia Blackburne, illus. by Nicole Xu. Carolrhoda, Mar. $19.99 ISBN 979-8-76562-722-8


Arree Chung

Your story begins with young Ming Lee being placed in an ESL class, despite his first and only language being English. Why did you want to start there?

I wanted to start with Ming being placed in ESL because it was the perfect mix of awkward and hilarious. He already felt different with his second-hand clothes and bowl haircut, and getting placed in ESL—even though he only spoke English—was the perfect way to show just how out of place Ming felt.

How does Ming’s interpretation of not causing trouble differ from that of his parents?

For Ming, it meant staying invisible—not speaking up, not drawing attention to himself. But for his parents, especially his dad, it meant focusing on getting good grades and staying on a clear path to success without any distractions.

Your graphic novel debut is informed by personal experience. Why was it important to touch on this time in your life and what do you hope young readers take from it?

This graphic novel is really personal to me. I wanted to show how kids of immigrants are often juggling two worlds—their family’s hopes at home and the totally different reality they face at school. I hope young readers who sometimes feel stuck in between can see a bit of themselves in Ming and know that it’s okay to make mistakes and find their own way to who they are.

Don’t Cause Trouble by Arree Chung. Holt, Apr. $22.99 ISBN 978-1-250-88729-0


Mia P. Manansala

The cast features Danika, a young queer Filipina woman, and a supporting cast of queer BIPOC characters. Why was it important to offer this representation in your YA debut?

It was the representation that I desperately wanted and needed as a kid and never got. I dedicated the book to my younger self because if I’d had a book like this when I was a teen, maybe it wouldn’t have taken me until I was almost 30 to realize I was queer. Maybe it wouldn’t have taken me so long to understand that no culture is a monolith, and that just because I didn’t seem to fit in with other Filipinos growing up doesn’t mean that I wasn’t “Filipino enough” or that my experiences weren’t valid. Lastly, queer spaces tend to be very white and it was important for me to have various kinds of intersectionality in my book.

How did you approach representing Filipina culture through Danika’s family?

First of all, when I think Filipino family, I don’t just think of the nuclear family, but the extended family, a multigenerational one. So even though a lot of YA novels try to limit parental interference, I knew Danika’s family would be heavily involved in a positive way (for the most part). There’s still friction between Danika and her mom, but for me, it just reinforces the family bonds: Danika’s dream is to follow in her mom’s footsteps and become a private detective, but her mom, in typical immigrant parent fashion is like, “No. I work this dangerous, unstable job because I have to. It’s what was available to me. But I want better for you.”

Danika also studies Kali, a Filipino martial art (also known as Arnis), with her aunt and cousins. Her father is a writer and the cook in the family, nourishing the family’s bodies and minds with stories and plenty of Filipino food. There are so many ways that I tried to weave these aspects into this book.

Tarot plays a big role in this book. Do you have a connection to tarot yourself? How did it become a vehicle for this story?

I’ve been interested in tarot on and off for over a decade, but I only ever read for myself. Tarot cards employ visual storytelling, character archetypes, the idea of the hero’s journey, and other aspects of storytelling craft that make them perfect to include in a novel. On top of that, part of being good at reading cards is being able to read people as well, particularly the clients who come to you for a consultation. This skill is Danika’s number one strength as a detective. One of the most fun things about writing this story was that all of the tarot readings (minus the one that kicks off the story) were actual cards that I pulled while drafting, and the direction of the scene would change based on the cards that came up for the characters that Danika was reading for.

Death in the Cards by Mia P. Manansala. Delacorte, May 13 $19.99 ISBN 978-0-593-89792-8


Axie Oh

What was it about the Korean legend of the Celestial Maidens that interested you and led you to weave it into this story?

I was intrigued by the idea of women from the heavens whose magic is tied to their wings. In the legends, Celestial Maidens come down from the heavens to bathe in waterfall pools; but in order to do so, they must take off their wings and hang them on the bough of a pine tree. In one story in particular, a woodcutter steals the wings of one of the maidens, trapping her on Earth. To me, there was so much imagery and symbolism in this legend that I wanted to weave it into a story of my own. It also provided such a rich starting point to inspire plot and worldbuilding elements. For example, I started to imagine what sort of magic a Celestial Maiden would have besides the ability to fly. What would compel someone to steal the magic of another person, and how would humans view a Celestial Maiden trapped on Earth? The Korean legend was the foundation from which I built my story world.

What made the legend a fitting backdrop for your tale of star-crossed teens?

Ren, the Celestial Maiden in my story, is from a place called the Floating World, which is a landmass that floats in the sky. That already sets up a star-crossed element, since the boy protagonist, Sunho, is from the Under World, an industrial-like city that sits beneath the shadow of the Floating World. Ren is the heir to the Floating World, aka its princess, while Sunho is an orphan and sword-for-hire trying to make ends meets while searching for his missing brother. Also, Ren is a character who isn’t entirely human, while Sunho was born human, even if the events of his life have changed him. I definitely think the legend helped set them on a bit of a star-crossed path from the beginning!

What do you enjoy most about writing in the fantasy space?

I love everything about it—I love creating a world from scratch and imbuing it with life through imagery and the characters interacting with the world. Most of all, I love how heightened everything is in a fantasy—the politics and plot, but also the emotions. It’s much more dramatic to fall in love while fighting off assassins, let alone bloodthirsty demons!

The Floating World by Axie Oh. Feiwel and Friends, Apr. $19.99 ISBN 978-1-250-85308-0


Aimee Phan

How did you come to integrate Vietnamese lore into this story?

I was inspired by the legend of the Hai Ba Trung (the Trung Sisters) who were military leaders that rebelled against the Han Empire to found the country of Vietnam. Their story ends with the sisters drowning themselves in the Hat Giang River rather than surrender to the Chinese. When I was little, I loved reading historical myths and ever since I discovered the Trung Sisters, I wondered what if their story didn’t end there? What if they hadn’t died? What if they were reincarnated into modern times? Once I began to explore that question, the fantasy elements soon followed.

Your protagonist Jolie has her life upturned in many ways at once, including a blossoming friendship with the school’s queen bee and the discovery of new powers. How do these adjustments in Jolie’s life interact with one another?

I definitely wanted to explore the perception of power, whether it’s the most popular girl in school, or a goddess with magical elements, [like] in my book. I think when kids go through puberty, they absolutely feel a loss of power, or control, over their identity—or at least what they believe people think of them. It can make teenagers feel helpless and demoralized. At the beginning of the book, Jolie doesn’t think anyone believes in her, and then this girl comes along who does. And I love that this confidence and acceptance first manifests as magical powers. When teens believe in themselves, they can feel immortal and invincible.

Why was it important to showcase women of power in the past passing along magic to modern young women?

I don’t think many teenage girls believe in their own self-worth. It’s heartbreaking to see how many strong, fierce girls change during adolescence. It’s like they lose their individuality to peer pressure, puberty, and social media. I wanted to write a story where young women could find their strength and voices. Magic is a wonderful conduit for them to find this power that I believe exists in all women.

The Lost Queen by Aimee Phan. Putnam, May $19.99 ISBN 978-0-593-69733-7


Anoosha Syed

This book is the second in the Everlasting Tales collection. Can you tell us the importance for you in joining this anthology series?

Pakistan has such a beautiful and rich cultural history and is often known as the land of poetry. My country is often overlooked for its arts and beauty and I was honored to get the chance to share it with the world. I wanted to be able to portray all my favorite parts of my heritage, whether it’s the art style inspired by traditional Moghul era paintings, the focus on our amazing cuisine, or the beautiful diversity in our people. Mostly, I wanted the chance to create the princess story I would’ve loved to have as a kid!

Why did you choose the Pakistani folktale of the Salt Princess? What about this particular story stood out to you?

I had a hard time choosing a traditional folk story for this book, but eventually settled on “The Salt Princess”; it is a common story that appears in a lot of cultures (similar to “Cinderella”) but I felt that I could weave in a lot of cultural specificities to the story. Namely, the concept of “log kya kahenge” or :what will people say.” There can be a lot of pressure to forsake your dreams and follow societal expectations, but as someone who actually went against that and pursued the arts, I wanted to highlight the harms of that kind of thinking.

This story is about a girl who struggles to fit in with her family. What do you hope readers who may feel the same way take from this book?

I hope children have the courage to follow their dreams and stand up for themselves! I did a reading of this book recently and asked the children what the lesson of the story might be. One very clever girl said, “Parents should respect their kids like we respect them,” which I thought was an excellent thing to absorb from the book, for parents and children alike.

The Salt Princess by Anoosha Syed. HarperCollins, Apr. $19.99 ISBN 978-0-06-332471-8


Chi Thai

This story is about you and your own family’s journey from Vietnam to the U.S. What did your research process look like?

This story belongs to my family, and to me. It’s one I’ve carried for as long as I can remember. It was never something I had to search for; the story lived with me, passed down over countless tellings. I sometimes think the story was waiting patiently until I was ready—ready not just to write it, but to understand and articulate it fully, and also to have access to the means to get it into the world. The story grew over time. Each retelling added something new—a detail from my parents, a memory from another refugee who was also on our boat. As I grew from child to adult, so did the story, taking on greater depth and shape and meaning. When I finally began to write, I recorded an interview with my mother—a way to ground the story, to fact-check. This time, I asked questions more carefully, determined to document the fullest version of how my family fled Vietnam.

Why did you want to tell this story from the voice and perspective of a child?

A big part of the creative process is often mysterious—less about conscious choice and more about instinct and trust. In this case, I didn’t deliberately decide on the perspective. It simply arrived with the story itself. That’s often how it happens for me. When an idea takes hold, the protagonist and their journey usually come well formed. My real work as a writer happens later, in the careful layering of character development, details and meaning. With The Endless Sea, it felt as though something deeper—memories and intuition—was steering the process. I didn’t overthink. I wrote. And from the beginning, the story flowed naturally through the voice of a child.

What was most important to you about representing your family’s experience?

There were many things that felt important to represent—and much of it went beyond just the boat journey itself. Because the medium is a picture book, I had to be succinct and find a language that would speak clearly to young readers. Still, it was vital for me to convey why we had to leave our home in the first place. That’s captured in the line: “Every day felt like it could be our last.”

I think there is still a lot of misunderstanding about why refugees exist—a misunderstanding that is often fueled by anti-immigration rhetoric and systemic racism. If this book can help even a few readers better understand the plight of refugees and encourage greater compassion, then I feel it has done something meaningful. When I made that journey, there were around six million refugees in the world. Today, there are more than 110 million people forcibly displaced—over 36 million of them refugees. It’s a crisis that has only grown, and I hope this story can offer a small but important reminder of the human experiences behind those numbers.

The Endless Sea by Chi Thai, illus. by Linh Dao. Candlewick, Mar. 18 $18.99 ISBN 978-1-5362-3960-7