6 Latinx Books to Read This Pride Month

Happy Pride Month! Celebrate with us by reading one of these amazing titles featuring LGBTQIA+ characters written by Latinx members of the LGBTQIA+ community. Make sure to add the rest to your TBR list to read later, because we should be reading LGBTQIA+ literature all year round. 

When We Love Someone We Sing to Them: Cuando Amamos Cantamos by Ernesto Javier Martínez|Illustrated by Maya Christina Gonzalez|Translated by Jorge Gabriel Martínez Feliciano

When We Love Someone We Sing to Them is a bilingual picture book about the Mexican tradition of singing to family and loved ones and a young boy who asks his father if there is a song for a boy who loves a boy. Reframing a treasured cultural tradition, this story perfectly brings tradition and inclusion into the conversation.

The One Who Loves You the Most by medina

I have never felt like I belonged to my body. Never in the way rhythm belongs to a song or waves belong to an ocean.

It seems like most people figure out where they belong by knowing where they came from. When they look in the mirror, they see their family in their eyes, in their sharp jawlines, in the texture of their hair. When they look at family photos, they see faces of people who look like them. They see faces of people who they'll look like in the future.

For me, I only have my imagination.

But I'm always trying.

Twelve-year-old Gabriela is trying to find their place in the world. In their body, which feels less and less right with each passing day. As an adoptee, in their all-white family. With their mom, whom they love fiercely and do anything they can to help with her depression. And at school, where they search for friends.

A new year will bring a school project, trans and queer friends, and a YouTube channel that help Gabriela find purpose in their journey. 

This Is Me Trying by Racquel Marie

Growing up, Bryce, Beatriz, and Santiago were inseparable. But when Santiago moved away before high school, their friendship crumbled. Three years later, Bryce is gone, Beatriz is known as the dead boy’s girlfriend, and Santiago is back.

The last thing Beatriz wants is to reunite with Santiago, who left all her messages unanswered while she drowned alone in grief over Bryce’s death by suicide. Even if she wasn’t angry, Santiago’s attempts to make amends are jeopardizing her plan to keep the world at arm’s length―equal parts protection and punishment―and she swore to never let anyone try that again.

Santiago is surprised to find the once happy-go-lucky Bea is now the gothic town loner, though he’s unsurprised she wants nothing to do with him. But he can’t fix what he broke between them while still hiding what led him to cut her off in the first place, and it’s harder to run from his past when he isn’t states away anymore.

The Luis Ortega Survival Club by Sonora Reyes 

Ariana Ruiz wants to be noticed. But as an autistic girl who never talks, she goes largely ignored by her peers—despite her bold fashion choices. So when cute, popular Luis starts to pay attention to her, Ari finally feels seen.

Luis’s attention soon turns to something more, and they have sex at a party—while Ari didn’t say no, she definitely didn’t say yes. Before she has a chance to process what happened and decide if she even has the right to be mad at Luis, the rumor mill begins churning—thanks, she’s sure, to Luis’s ex-girlfriend, Shawni. Boys at school now see Ari as an easy target, someone who won’t say no. 

Then Ari finds a mysterious note in her locker that eventually leads her to a group of students determined to expose Luis for the predator he is. To her surprise, she finds genuine friendship among the group, including her growing feelings for the very last girl she expected to fall for. But in order to take Luis down, she’ll have to come to terms with the truth of what he did to her that night—and risk everything to see justice done.

A Tiny Piece of Something Greater by Jude Sierra

Reid Watsford has a lot of secrets and a past he can’t quite escape. While staying at his grandmother’s condo in Key Largo, he signs up for introductory dive classes, where he meets Joaquim Oliveira, a Brazilian dive instructor with wanderlust. Driven by an instant, magnetic pull, what could have been just a hookup quickly deepens. As their relationship evolves, they must learn to navigate the challenges of Reid’s mental illness—on their own and with each other.

Cantoras by Carolina de Robertis

In 1977 Uruguay, a military government crushed political dissent with ruthless force. In this environment, where the everyday rights of people are under attack, homosexuality is a dangerous transgression to be punished. And yet Romina, Flaca, Anita "La Venus," Paz, and Malena—five cantoras, women who "sing"—somehow, miraculously, find one another. Together, they discover an isolated, nearly uninhabited cape, Cabo Polonio, which they claim as their secret sanctuary. Over the next thirty-five years, their lives move back and forth between Cabo Polonio and Montevideo, the city they call home, as they return, sometimes together, sometimes in pairs, with lovers in tow, or alone. And throughout, again and again, the women will be tested—by their families, lovers, society, and one another—as they fight to live authentic lives.

Cantoras is a breathtaking portrait of queer love, community, forgotten history, and the strength of the human spirit.

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Elizabeth Cervantes is a proud Mexican book lover. She has a bachelor’s in Multimedia Journalism from the University of Texas at El Paso and is currently working on obtaining her master’s in Publishing at Pace University. When she is not studying and reading for her classes, you can find her crying, swooning, or locking her doors while reading children’s books, romance novels, and mysteries/thrillers.

Book Review: ‘The Blue Mimes’ by Sara Daniele Rivera

Our memories are often stories we’ve been told or we tell ourselves. They are translations that can become mistranslated, skewed perspectives that warp as time passes. Upon losing a loved one, these unreliable recollections can transform into dark, murky waves of grief painful to wade through. In her debut collection, Sara Daniele Rivera plunges into the depths of sorrowful absence, exploring the salience of mortality, malleable memories, survival, and uncertainty that emerge in the face of earth-shattering losses. Out of the rubble rises a marvelous mosaic of bilingual, elegiac poems grounded in the physical landscapes of mountains, oceans, and deserts that The Blue Mimes illustrates. 

Beginning with poems of memory and political instability, Rivera seems to focus on the world’s fraying connections — specifically in the time between the 2016 presidential election and the COVID-19 pandemic — alongside the meditation of personal rifts created by catastrophic grief. She vividly exhibits moments of hopelessness and the ways in which a bereaved person approximates their former selves at an attempt at survival. The poems often feel like puzzle pieces of fragmented memories that interlock to paint a larger story of losing family members, survival, and acceptance of the often frightening idea of death. The Blue Mimes expertly weaves a plethora of ruminations — seemingly about community during grief, cultural influence and un-belonging, the boundaries of language, migration, assimilation, separation, absence, and more — together to allow the possibility of healing. 

Rivera pens this collection with a talent for evocative imagery, surprising cleverness, and acute self-awareness. As an artist and a fiction writer, she skillfully paints beautiful scenes of natural elements and landscapes, transporting readers to the boulders, beaches, bodies of water, and various places in Albuquerque, Lima, and Havana, all equally light and dark. In an interview with reviewer Paul Semel, Rivera discusses how she kept coming across various types of absences, even those losses found in assimilation, in not remembering words and in the words that were never taught to you. “I was interested in the things we say and can’t say and choose never to say, and how we attempt to make sense of those silences,” the author wrote in the email interview. A winner of the Academy of American Poets First Book Award, The Blue Mimes is a poignant collection written through the waves of grief and during a tumultuous period in Rivera’s personal life. These are poems ultimately written in the search for resolve. 

“The Blue Mimes examines how we move on and come to terms with mortality and irrevocable change, and how to find stability, love, acceptance, and ourselves when the earth cracks open beneath us. ”

Within the caverns of these poems, Rivera seems to circle the inability to accurately describe the profundity of absence and loss despite knowing two languages. She progresses through memory and feelings of instability to arrive at an understanding of the human condition. The complexity found at the intersection of grief and Latinx identities may be the most interesting about this collection. There appears to be an overwhelming attempt to grapple with losing lineage, family history, and sense of identity upon the loss of an immigrant parent. Rivera’s poems beautifully memorialize loved ones while acknowledging the survival, self-growth, change, and continuation of life during mourning.

The Blue Mimes examines how we move on and come to terms with mortality and irrevocable change, and how to find stability, love, acceptance, and ourselves when the earth cracks open beneath us. Rivera seems to focus on accepting that we are born from struggle, loss, and hardship, carrying the archeology of our loved ones with us as the earth heals the spaces and cracks they left behind.

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Lorraine Olaya is a Colombian-American writer, editor, and poet born and raised in Queens, New York. She is a recent graduate from New York University with a B.A. in English and minors in Creative Writing and French. Often drawing inspiration from Latina writers such as Gloria Muñoz, Rio Cortez, Sandra Cisneros, and more, Lorraine’s work explores the experiences of the Latine diaspora, focusing on dual identity, culture, community, first-generation struggle, immigration, and familial love. Her poetry has been previously published in The Roadrunner Review, Laurel Moon Magazine, Drunken Boat Magazine, The Acentos Review, Esferas Undergraduate Journal, and elsewhere.

Best Books of the Year (So Far) According to Latinx in Publishing.

The halfway mark of 2024 is here! So many great books have come out this year, and we are excited to share some of our top picks as we approach summer. Be sure to add these to your TBR!

The Things We Didn't Know by Elba Iris Pérez | ADULT FICTION

"Pérez's debut novel will resonate with readers who grew up in two worlds and tried to find stability in both.  From Massachusetts to Puerto Rico and back again, her young heroine Andrea struggles with identity, gender roles, and the angst of growing up.  Not to mention family dramas galore, betrayals and prejudice for being a brown family in a white town. The writing is authentic and engrossing."

--Maria Ferrer, Events Director

Anita de Monte Laughs Last by Xochitl Gonzalez | ADULT FICTION

"Anita de Monte is a talented Latina artist breaking through the white, male-centered New York art world of the 1980s (inspired by the true tragic story of Cuban-born artist Ana Mendieta). Raquel Toro is a first gen Puerto Rican college student at Brown nearly two decades later. With two timelines and multiple POVs, readers will connect with these  two women facing parallel questions about who belongs and who gets to tell their stories."

--Stefanie Sanchez Von Borstel, Fellowship Director

The Great Divide by Cristina Henriquez | ADULT FICTION

"This is a gorgeous, important historical novel about the construction of the Panama Canal, but more deeply about progress and humanity and where the two meet. Henríquez's prose swept me up and her characters enthralled me to the very end."

--Toni Kirkpatrick, Board Secretary

The Bullet Swallower by Elizabeth Gonzalez James | ADULT FICTION

"There are various hard-won lessons I learned in reading this sprawling family saga in the dead of winter (for Los Angeles standards), though I mentally spent most of it in the oppressive desert heat of Mexico and Texas with El Tragabalas, strapped onto a horse of some kind. This is a book that pointedly asks how -- and when -- do we pay for our ancestral sins? The Bullet Swallower almost has you believe you can outrun fate, just because there are so many close calls."

--Andrea Morales, Fellowship and Writers Mentorship Director

Author-Illustrator Interview: ‘The Mango Tree’ by Edel Rodriguez

On an island lush with plants and small homes is a towering mango tree. Two boys grasp onto its branches. They spend a lot of time in and around this tree, flying kites from it and building a birdhouse within it. They even take naps here. The mango is their constant – their happy place.

Then one day, a storm tears through the island. It uproots the mango tree, and with it one of the boys. Soon he is forced on a journey into an unfamiliar land.

From internationally renowned artist Edel Rodriguez comes The Mango Tree, a wordless picture book that is largely inspired by his own childhood experience as a Cuban immigrant. Like the boys he features in his book, Rodriguez also has a best friend named Osledy who he spent days with in a mango tree they shared back in Cuba. “The tree’s large, shady canopy became our clubhouse,” Rodriguez writes in his author’s note.

The Mango Tree itself takes on a fantastical lens – complete with sea creatures and an intriguing new home for the boy who was swept away. It is an otherworldly, curious ride.

In anticipation of his recent book release from Abrams Books for Young Readers, Rodriguez spoke with Latinx in Publishing about his real childhood best friend, the symbolism behind the mango tree, and more.

This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.

Amaris Castillo (AC): Congratulations on The Mango Tree. I understand this story was largely inspired by your childhood and the times you spent with your best friend, Osledy. Can you tell us more?

Edel Rodriguez (ER): He was my next-door neighbor. We shared what’s called a solar in Spanish; the backyard was shared by my house, his house, and my grandmother’s house. We were just always in the backyard playing, climbing trees, going on the roof or around the fields in town. We had kind of a free-for-all as kids in Cuba. Parents, at that time, just let you roam around. So at a very young age, we were going all over the place, making toys out of whatever we found. I think it did help me become a creative person, because I was very inventive from a young age. 

The interesting thing between me and him is that I was always the more careful one – or not as crazy. And Osledy was always like, ‘Let’s do that. Let’s jump off that thing. Let’s do this.’ He almost got me in trouble a few times. We’re still friends. And he’s still like that. That’s his personality.

AC: In your book we meet two boys on a small island who spend their days in a mango tree. The tree is their constant. They eat the mangoes, fly kites from atop the tree and more. Does the mango tree symbolize anything to you in this story?

ER: It’s something that has roots, so it has that feel of the roots of our friendship. It’s something that grew with us, and then at some point I had to leave. So I floated away. [In the book] it’s a planter where the tree grew, but then it becomes a boat where I get pushed out to sea and I leave the country.

But it’s like our home. It’s the idea that you have to leave behind or be separated by things that are out of your control. Once I left Cuba, I tried to stay in touch with him as much as possible. He’s still my best friend. We didn’t see each other for 14 years, so we stayed in touch through letters. But it was this one time where we had sort of this idyllic place that we hung out in. And after that, it all kind of ended after I left. And after the storm happened [in the book], we never really had that again. 

So I was trying to encapsulate that feeling when you have a special place with your best friend. Sometimes it’s a very small window of time, and then you either grow up or you leave, or something happens that changes that. But for some time, it was like our own little private club where we could just have fun.

“Part of what I like about the idea that it’s wordless is that kids have to figure out the book as it goes along. And they themselves become active in figuring out the puzzle of what’s going to happen next as they’re looking at it.”

AC: One of the boys is swept away in a storm and lands in a place that’s unfamiliar to him. It made me think about how change arrives in a child’s life. But children are so resilient. What does this change mean to your character?

ER: Part of what I like about the idea that it’s wordless is that kids have to figure out the book as it goes along. And they themselves become active in figuring out the puzzle of what’s going to happen next as they’re looking at it. For me, when I left Cuba it was very abrupt. We were just having a regular day. Everything was fine. And then suddenly, my parents decided we gotta get out of here. And from one day to the next, I basically lost my best friend. So I wanted to get that across: change can happen very fast. 

But then once you arrive in a new place, you try to look around you and use the tools that you know to adapt to whatever that place is. Especially kids, as you said, are very good at that. I did it by drawing things when I arrived in the United States. I couldn’t speak, so I would just draw what I wanted or what I wanted to say. In the book, this boy arrives with this mango and he shares it with the other kids as, ‘This is what I know.’ And then you start conversations, and the other kids give you something of theirs. Here in the United States, a lot of times it was toys. Someone that was from here would give me a Superman figure and I would say, ‘What is this? I don’t know what this is.’ I’d never seen Superman until I arrived here. So kids have conversations in that way.

AC: I did want to ask about your book being wordless. What was it like to approach the story this way? 

ER: You know when you’re in a place with your best friend often, you don’t really talk? You’re just kind of doing things, and there’s sort of a conversation that happens just by activities. Especially when you’re a kid, you’re not having deep conversations. You’re just having fun. And especially when you’re up on a tree, or in a jungle, you’re of like living in that space. It’s actually a very quiet place. So I wanted to create a book that did that. 

I had just written a graphic novel and I wanted to do something different – totally the other way. At first I considered having text through the pages and I had some text throughout. At some point I took it off, and the book became more magical when I did that. So I called my editor and I said, ‘You know, I think this is better without words.’ It felt even more special because you almost feel like you’re looking into the lives of these two little children, rather than reading about them. 

Generally when you’re reading something, the book is telling you what’s going on. Here you feel like you’re hovering above the jungle, just looking into these little kids playing and trying to figure out what it is that they’re doing. And eventually, every time you flip the page, you go ‘Oh, that’s what’s going on.’ And it makes you want to keep on going to try to figure out what the puzzle is. Whereas when you have the words, it’s telling you. So what I decided to do is basically take a lot of the text I had written and put it as the afterword at the end, so people get a bit more context about what was happening.

AC: You are an artist whose work has been exhibited internationally. Can you talk about how you approached your art for young readers in The Mango Tree? What, if anything, did you do differently?

ER: I remember when I arrived in this country, one of the first books that I remember reading was James and the Giant Peach [by Roald Dahl]. I didn’t really speak that much English, but I learned from it. And one of the things I liked about that book was this idea of adventure. That this kid is on a peach floating around [Laughs]. I’m like, I want to make something that would give kids that feeling that I got from that book. That you don't know what's going to happen next. Something crazy could happen. And that the kids themselves are running the show without any parental figure telling them what to do. I really like that. Often in children’s books there’s a lot of the relationship between the parent and the kids. And in this book, there are no parents. So that’s kind of fun. I always felt that it would be fun for a kid to open a book and they just see themselves. 

Also, a book that would have no relation to what our reality is here in America, in New York City, or in American cities. I wanted to create a bit of a fantasy world, especially as you go through the book and you get towards the end. It’s a total different planet, almost. Right with the plants and exotic things and trees. So something that felt a bit otherworldly I wanted to create for the readers.

AC: What are you hoping readers take away from The Mango Tree?

ER: It’s about friendship. It’s the idea that friendships are important – friendships that you develop at a very young age, not friendships on the internet or social media, but actual people you spend time with and grow up with and just stay connected to. I’ve been friends with Osledy since I was a little kid. All through our life together, whenever I needed something for my family back in Cuba, he resolved it. He figured it out for my grandmother, whoever was left behind. Whenever his family needed something, I would help him out with that. He’s now in Miami, actually, with his family. 

Those are the connections that help you get through life; this idea that you treasure the people that you know and the friendships that you have. That’s how we get through life and we move forward. And hopefully the book has a bit of that. And also to not be afraid of something new, of a new place.

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Image by Deborah Feingold

Edel Rodriguez is a Cuban American artist and author who has exhibited internationally with shows in Los Angeles, Toronto, New York, Dallas, Philadelphia, and Spain. He has received the Gold Medal from the Society of Illustrators and for many years was the art director of TIME magazine. Books he has illustrated include Song for Jimi: The Story of Guitar Legend Jimi Hendrix by Charles R. Smith Jr., Float Like a Butterfly by Ntozake Shange, Fascinating: The Life of Leonard Nimoy, and Sonia Sotomayor: A Judge Grows in the Bronx/La juez que crecio en el Bronx by Jonah Winter. Throughout his career, Rodriguez has received commissions to create artwork for numerous clients, including The New York Times, TIME magazine, The New Yorker, and many other publications and book publishers. Rodriguez’s artwork is in the collections of a variety of institutions, including the Smithsonian Institute in Washington, DC, as well as in numerous private collections. He lives with his wife and daughter in New Jersey.

Amaris Castillo is an award-winning journalist, writer, and the creator of Bodega Stories, a series featuring real stories from the corner store. Her writing has appeared in La Galería Magazine, Aster(ix) Journal, Spanglish Voces, PALABRITAS, Dominican Moms Be Like… (part of the Dominican Writers Association’s #DWACuenticos chapbook series), and most recently Quislaona: A Dominican Fantasy Anthology and Sana, Sana: Latinx Pain and Radical Visions for Healing and Justice. Her short story, “El Don,” was a prize finalist for the 2022 Elizabeth Nunez Caribbean-American Writers’ Prize by the Brooklyn Caribbean Literary Festival. She is a proud member of Latinx in Publishing’s Writers Mentorship Class of 2023 and lives in Florida with her family.

Author Q&A: Barrio Rising: The Protest That Built Chicano Park by María Dolores Águila

In Barrio Rising: The Protest That Built Chicano Park, a girl named Elena is walking with her mom to their local tiendita for some masa and corn husks. On the way, they bump into a neighbor who has sketched the Coronado Bridge stretching over the bay from Barrio Logan – one of San Diego’s older Mexican American communities. A diesel truck passing by leaves behind clouds of dust.

Later, as they pass by a junkyard and get barked at by dogs, Elena’s mother stops and says, “Be brave, Elena – sé valiente.”

It’s this bravery that Elena and her community must later channel when they discover that the park they had been promised by the city would instead become a California Highway Patrol station. Barrio Rising is a historical fiction picture book about one community’s twelve-day land occupation and resistance in April 1970 that led to the creation of a colorful park below criss-crossing freeway overpasses. Written by debut author María Dolores Águila and illustrated by Magdalena Mora, the duo beautifully captures the fight and tremendous heart of an often-ignored community. Barrio Rising will be released on June 18 from Dial Books for Young Readers. Its Spanish version – El barrio se levanta: La protesta que construyó el Parque Chicano – was translated by David Bowles and will be released simultaneously.

Águila, a Chicana poet and writer from San Diego, grew up a few miles from Chicano Park – which features Chicano murals, sculptures, picnic tables and playgrounds. “And I always passed by the murals (in the park), but I never connected how and why they got there,” she told Latinx in Publishing. “It just never occurred to me.”

Then one day, a mural caught Águila’s eye. What followed was a years-long obsession to learn everything she could about Chicano Park. The fruits of that research and curiosity would eventually form Barrio Rising: The Protest That Built Chicano Park.

Ahead of the book’s release, Latinx in Publishing spoke with Águila about the inspiration behind Barrio Rising, what it was like to portray an ignored community on the page, and more.

This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.

Amaris Castillo (AC): Congratulations on Barrio Rising. What inspired you to write this story?

María Dolores Águila (MDÁ): That’s one of the questions that I get the most and I think it’s one of the hardest to answer, because I can’t tell you a singular reason of why I wrote the story. The short answer would be that I live less than five miles away from Chicano Park and I’ve lived here for the majority of my life. I’ve driven by Chicano Park thousands of times. My father worked in the tuna canneries when they were there in Barrio Logan. I used to go to the community health center there. And I always passed by the murals, but I never connected how and why they got there. It just never occurred to me. 

My mother-in-law lives in Barrio Logan and one day we were driving by (the park). And for some reason, the mural of Laura Rodriguez caught my eye. I don’t know why. It sparked something. I looked up her story, which was incredible by the way. Her entire story is like a real-life Cinderella, mariposa del barrio story. After that, it became like an obsession. For close to half a decade, I chased down every scrap of information that I could find about Chicano Park by visiting the park, going to the events, listening to speakers, watching movies. When I finally had a full understanding, it was like, Oh, my God. I have to write about this. People should know what happened here.

In a lot of ways, I wrote it for myself, because I’m a Chicana kid that grew up next to Chicano Park that didn’t know how to get there. After I figured out what had transpired, I was like, No. This has to be a story. People have to know. The world has to know what happened. Because I feel so often, as Latinas in the United States, we’re made to seem like we don’t have a history – that we’re very recent arrivals. But that’s not true. We have a very long history, and there have been a lot of things in our community that people have fought for but they’ve been buried.

AC: In your book we meet two Barrio Logan residents -- a mother and daughter -- walking near the Coronado Bridge. Almost immediately, readers can detect that this area is neglected. What was it like to portray an ignored community on the page for young readers?

MDÁ: For me, it was just portraying my own lived experience. I live in National City, which is directly south of Barrio Logan, and we have many of the same issues. We have the same issues of air pollution and heavy industry mixed in with residential areas. And even though I live in a bayfront community and Barrio Logan is a bayfront community – we’re literally on the bay – we really don’t have beach access. So this is something that I’ve lived. It wasn’t something that I had to really dig deep to find.

“Our stories are still meaningful, still beautiful, and still worthy, even if the institutions around us have not been supporting us the way that they should have. ”

When I see other people that haven’t lived that kind of experience, they tend to portray those communities as just simply downtrodden – like there’s no glimmer of hope. The one thing that I did want to portray is that these communities have grown roses in concrete. Our stories are still meaningful, still beautiful, and still worthy, even if the institutions around us have not been supporting us the way that they should have. There’s still a lot of joy and beauty. Even though the area and the schools might not be great, there’s still a lot of really great things about where I live and about Barrio Logan. I think Magdalena did a lot of the heavy lifting with the illustrations in that aspect.

AC: You beautifully capture a close-knit Mexican American community throughout the book with your text with Spanish sprinkled in, and illustrator Magdalena Mora, like you just mentioned, with her gentle illustrations featuring parts of the culture like food. What was it like working with Magdalena? Were there specific suggestions you had for her to portray this time in the community’s history accurately?

MDÁ: I was actually really hands off because I wanted Magdalena to bring her own vision without me influencing it, as much as possible. I was beyond honored that Magdalena agreed to collaborate on Barrio Rising with me because her body of work is really incredible. I think the amazing thing about picture books is how two artistic mediums come together – the words and the art – to tell a singular story. My editor, Rosie Ahmed from Dial, did ask me if there were any particular images that I liked. And I did send her some. There was one of a girl holding a pickaxe. She was a young girl. And I don’t know why that image stuck with me. I sent it to Rosie, who sent it to Magdalena.

I just stayed hands off as much as possible because I wanted her to do her thing, and bring what she has to bring to the story. I pretty much wrote the story without outside influence, and I wanted Magdalena to have that freedom without me hovering around. When I finally saw the art, I knew that I had made the right decision because she brought in things that I hadn’t even thought of – things that would have never occurred to me because my brain doesn’t work that way. I was just so happy when I saw the illustrations.

AC: Even though this is a fictionalized account of the story behind San Diego's Chicano Park, you feature real residents and even a local councilman who played key roles in its creation. What was your research like while working on this book?

MDÁ: I love to do research, so for me it’s always like the most enjoyable part of the process. I did the usual things: I hunted down newspaper articles, I read academic articles, I read books. I read the applications that they filled out to make Chicano Park a cultural heritage site. And Chicano Park themselves have a website, so I read all that. 

In my research, I had come across this thesis entitled “Singing the Great Depression: Mexican and Mexican American Perspectives Through Corridos” by Michelle Salinas, where she describes how Mexican and Mexican American communities have traditionally expressed information and history through alternative mediums like songs and art. So I did all the usual things, but I also listened to songs. There’s a song called “Chicano Park Samba” by Los Alacranes Mojados and they sing about the history of Chicano Park. There’s also two murals at the park called La Tierra Mia and Chicano Park Takeover, and that has the history in images. So I studied those as well.

AC: What are you hoping readers take away from Barrio Rising?

MDÁ: More than anything, I want young readers to find power within themselves and their communities. I want them to know that Latine communities have a long history of resistance and resilience, and that together we can accomplish our wildest dreams. I want them to see themselves in Elena and I want them to be inspired to make the changes that we need in our communities.

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María Dolores Águila is a Chicana poet and writer from San Diego, California. Deeply inspired by Chicane history and art, she seeks to write empowering and inclusive stories about everything she learns. She also loves drinking coffee, browsing the bookshelves at her local library, and spending time with her family.

Magdalena Mora is an illustrator, designer, and art educator based in Minneapolis and Chicago. Her work has been recognized by The New York Times, The American Library Association, and The Chicago Public Library, among others.

Amaris Castillo is an award-winning journalist, writer, and the creator of Bodega Stories, a series featuring real stories from the corner store. Her writing has appeared in La Galería Magazine, Aster(ix) Journal, Spanglish Voces, PALABRITAS, Dominican Moms Be Like… (part of the Dominican Writers Association’s #DWACuenticos chapbook series), and most recently Quislaona: A Dominican Fantasy Anthology and Sana, Sana: Latinx Pain and Radical Visions for Healing and Justice. Her short story, “El Don,” was a prize finalist for the 2022 Elizabeth Nunez Caribbean-American Writers’ Prize by the Brooklyn Caribbean Literary Festival. She is a proud member of Latinx in Publishing’s Writers Mentorship Class of 2023 and lives in Florida with her family.

5 Latinx Books Showcasing Supportive Father Figures

With Father’s Day just around the corner, reflecting on the father figures in our lives is inevitable. Here is a list of books that show the beautiful, and sometimes complex, relationships we have with them. 

My Papi Has a Motorcycle by Isabel Quintero|Illustrated by Zeke Peña 

When Daisy Ramona zooms around her neighborhood with her papi on his motorcycle, she sees the people and places she's always known. She also sees a community that is rapidly changing around her.

But as the sun sets purple-blue-gold behind Daisy Ramona and her papi, she knows that the love she feels will always be there.

With vivid illustrations and text bursting with heart, My Papi Has a Motorcycle is a young girl's love letter to her hardworking dad and to memories of home that we hold close in the midst of change.

Abuelo, the Sea, and Me by Ismée Williams|Illustrated by Tatiana Gardel 

When this grandchild visits her abuelo, he takes her to the ocean. In summer, they kick off their shoes and let the cool waves tickle their toes. In winter, they stand on the cliff and let the sea spray prick their noses and cheeks. No matter the season, hot or cold, their favorite place to spend time together is the beach.

It’s here that Abuelo is able to open up about his youth in Havana, Cuba. As they walk along the sand, he recalls the tastes, sounds, and smells of his childhood. And with his words, Cuba comes alive for his grandchild.

Stef Soto, Taco Queen by Jennifer Torres

Tacos. Burritos. Guacamole. Estefania "Stef" Soto is itching to shake off the onion-and-cilantro embrace of Tia Perla, her family's taco truck. Although Papi is always ready to comfort her with his food, Stef wants nothing more than for him to get a normal job and for the taco truck to be a distant memory. Then maybe everyone at school will stop calling her the Taco Queen.

But when her family's livelihood is threatened, and it looks like her wish will finally come true, Stef surprises everyone (including herself) by becoming the truck's unlikely champion. In this fun and heartfelt novel, Stef will discover what matters most and ultimately embrace her identity, even if it includes old Tia Perla.

Ander & Santi Were Here by Jonny Garza Villa

Finding home. Falling in love. Fighting to belong.

The Santos Vista neighborhood of San Antonio, Texas, is all Ander Martínez has ever known. The smell of pan dulce. The mixture of Spanish and English filling the streets. And, especially their job at their family's taquería. It's the place that has inspired Ander as a muralist, and, as they get ready to leave for art school, it's all of these things that give them hesitancy. That give them the thought, are they ready to leave it all behind?

To keep Ander from becoming complacent during their gap year, their family "fires" them so they can transition from restaurant life to focusing on their murals and prepare for college. That is, until they meet Santiago López Alvarado, the hot new waiter. Falling for each other becomes as natural as breathing. Through Santi's eyes, Ander starts to understand who they are and want to be as an artist, and Ander becomes Santi's first steps toward making Santos Vista and the United States feel like home.

Until ICE agents come for Santi, and Ander realizes how fragile that sense of home is. How love can only hold on so long when the whole world is against them. And when, eventually, the world starts to win.

Featuring a dad who undoubtedly supports his children’s preferences and decisions, Ander & Santi Were Here will warm up your heart this Father’s Day. 

The House of Broken Angels by Luis Alberto Urrea

"All we do, mija, is love. Love is the answer. Nothing stops it. Not borders. Not death."

In his final days, beloved and ailing patriarch Miguel Angel de La Cruz, affectionately called Big Angel, has summoned his entire clan for one last legendary birthday party. But as the party approaches, his mother, nearly one hundred, dies, transforming the weekend into a farewell doubleheader. Among the guests is Big Angel's half brother, known as Little Angel, who must reckon with the truth that although he shares a father with his siblings, he has not, as a half gringo, shared a life.

Across two bittersweet days in their San Diego neighborhood, the revelers mingle among the palm trees and cacti, celebrating the lives of Big Angel and his mother, and recounting the many inspiring tales that have passed into family lore, the acts both ordinary and heroic that brought these citizens to a fraught and sublime country and allowed them to flourish in the land they have come to call home.

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Elizabeth Cervantes is a proud Mexican book lover. She has a bachelor’s in Multimedia Journalism from the University of Texas at El Paso and is currently working on obtaining her master’s in Publishing at Pace University. When she is not studying and reading for her classes, you can find her crying, swooning, or locking her doors while reading children’s books, romance novels, and mysteries/thrillers.

Book Review: Immortal Pleasures by V. Castro

V. Castro is a Chicana from San Antonio, Texas, who now lives in London, England, and is a two-time Bram Stoker award nominee. Being fascinated by Mexican folklore and Texas urban legends, it’s no surprise her writing reflects these inspirations while also putting her own edgy twist on such legends. 

Immortal Pleasures follows Malinalli, otherwise known as La Malinche, the Nahua translator for Hernan Cortés. History has her name and actions written down in infamy, but this novel tells her side of the story. She’s reborn as an immortal vampire and travels the world as an avenger for her people by reclaiming stolen artifacts to return them to their rightful home. However, she’s also in search of satisfying her desire for pleasure and love through two captivating men. In her travels to Dublin, Ireland for Aztec skulls that hold a personal history to her, enemies from her past begin to emerge. 

“History has her name and actions written down in infamy, but this novel tells her side of the story. ”

When two people, or even items, whose side of history are overlooked by the majority, a bond between them becomes inevitable. It’s no wonder why Mali is in the line of work to find and return stolen artifacts to their home county, as she and these items have something in common: they are both misunderstood. How can the history and significance of a stolen artifact be appreciated and understood in foreign hands? How can anyone understand the hardships that she’s endured when she’s seen as a traitor first and a human second? Or understand her vampire self and all of its difficulties when she meets so few like her? Since Malinalli and these items are so misunderstood, a yearning for something familiar grows within them. If anything, it’s natural that they gravitate toward each other. Just as the artifacts receive what they’ve been looking for, so does Mali. When she meets a mysterious vampire and learns that his name is also written in infamy, she finds solace, and love, in another misunderstood person. 

Despite the many evils and atrocities of the world around her, Malinalli never loses her capacity for love, kindness, and desire. These affections can be seen as an act of resilience and rebellion but it’s simply that she never lost her humanity. Her romantic relationships, fleeting and not, show how she has evolved in her opinions on giving and receiving love and desire. Her human self was always under the order of the Spanish, “My only duty at this point in my life was to serve and never receive.” Now that she doesn’t have to fear the hands of her oppressors, she takes charge of her sexuality and allows herself to feel affection at its purest and in multiple ways. Being romantically involved with humans and vampires in various forms of commitment, she gets to explore the feelings that were once not an option for her. Mali gives and receives love and sex with whoever and however she pleases. 

V. Castro illustrates a wonderful twist and perspective on Doña Marina. When so many voices screamed La Malinche and traitor, Castro shines light on her name: Malinalli. Mali, who has endured many tragedies of history, who never fails to honor those who were kind to her, and who continues to retain her humanity in a world that tries to strip her of it. 

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Melissa Gonzalez (she/her) is a UCLA graduate with a major in American Literature & Culture and a minor in Chicana/o & Central American Studies. She loves boba, horror movies, and reading. You can spot her in the fiction, horror/mystery/thriller, and young adult sections of bookstores. Though she is short, she feels as tall as her TBR pile. You can find Melissa on her book Instagram: @floralchapters

Author Interview: ‘Daughter of the Light-Footed People’ by Belen Medina

“From deep in the copper canyons of Mexico, her swift footsteps echo. Clip clap, clip clap.”

That’s the vivid opening of Daughter of the Light-Footed People, a forthcoming nonfiction picture book about Lorena Ramírez, a runner from Mexico’s Rarámuri Indigenous people (also known as Tarahumara). The clip-clap sounds come from the athlete’s well-worn huaraches cut from rubber tires. Ramírez, now 29, is internationally known for running in sandals and in a brightly colored skirt.

Written by Belen Medina and illustrated by Natalia Rojas Castro, Daughter of the Light-Footed People takes readers on a sixty-mile run with Ramírez. We learn that her strength comes from kicking balls across miles with her siblings, and that her patience is built from walking for hours. “Over hot, cracked earth and rocks, through cold, hard rain, she runs,” Medina beautifully writes. Castro’s illustrations are equally gorgeous, infusing rich colors and textures to the page. In one spread, Ramírez’s long, dark ponytail morphs into a memory bubble of her as a child, herding goats and cattle for her family.

Out on June 11 from Atheneum Books for Young Readers, Daughter of the Light-Footed People is not just centered around this one Mexican athlete, but offers a real-life lesson that you can persevere and achieve so much even if you don’t have as many resources as others.

Ahead of the book’s release, Medina spoke with Latinx in Publishing about the inspiration behind her debut picture book, what sets Ramírez from other runners, and more.

This interview has been edited for clarity and brevity.

Amaris Castillo (AC): Congratulations on Daughter of the Light-Footed People. This book is about María Lorena Ramírez, an Indigenous long-distance runner belonging to Mexico’s Rarámuri ethnic group. What inspired you to write this story?

Belen Medina (BM): I have two kids, and during COVID I was home with them a lot. I found a Netflix documentary about her and we watched it. And I was just completely awestruck. We were all just dumbfounded by this woman who was running with just her huaraches and her Indigenous clothes. I was so profoundly moved by her grit and endurance, and her story. And so were my kids. And I just thought, Gosh, I feel every kid should know about her. Every person. And as a Mexican American, I just felt especially proud. 

I’ve written other books that haven’t come out yet, but I started to look to see if there had been any books about her. I wanted to know more, and realized that there hadn’t been. So that’s how that journey started for me. But mostly, I was just so incredibly inspired by her story and I thought: What an amazing person, and what a great example of just having so little and doing so much. I thought this is a great message for kids and for adults.

“What she was doing wasn’t just for her. It was for her family. It was for her people. She’s running as a community, which I felt was really moving and powerful. ”

AC: Your story beautifully follows María Lorena on a run and also touches on her background, such as her strength coming from herding goats and patience built from walking for hours to buy food. Can you describe your research process to be able to include these details?

BM: I basically scoured every available information I could find. I read some books about long-distance running and Tarahumara people. There wasn’t a lot, but as much as I could watch every interview she did, read every interview she did. I just did a lot of research that way. Then I synthesized the information, because in picture books you have very few words that you can use. And then the process was just whittling it down and trying to make it concise and moving for kids to be inspired by her in as few words as I could. 

As you know with editing, I have editors ask me where everything came from – and I had to go back. I have a bibliography of things, but it was fun. I really do like research. I love learning about the Tarahumara people. I didn’t know about them – from where they come from, which is this area that’s bigger than the Grand Canyon… I was blown away by so much that I didn’t know about Mexico.

AC: In your author’s note you write that María Lorena made international headlines when she won the Ultra Trail Cerro Rojo in 2017 – not just for her victory, but because she was wearing huaraches and a brightly colored skirt. There’s one part of the book where you write that she weaves to the front of the pack of runners without fancy gear or gadgets. It made me think about what distinguishes her from other runners. In telling this story, is there anything else you took away from what makes her unique in the running world?

BM: What stands out for me –  and not so much in terms of Lorena, but Lorena and her family and her people – is that they don’t just run for themselves. She’s running for her family and to make a better life for other people. I sometimes find that – and I’m generalizing – in America, in our culture, we tend to be very individualistic-minded. We do it for our own selves, or maybe for our ego or whatever we’re proving to ourselves. But we’re not running, or whatever we’re trying to do, because we’re bringing up everyone around us. And that’s what I felt like I learned from her: What she was doing wasn’t just for her. It was for her family. It was for her people. She’s running as a community, which I felt was really moving and powerful. That just gives her that extra motivation.

AC: Your prose is beautiful, and so are the illustrations by Natalia Rojas Castro. What do you think her illustrations add to your text?

BM: Oh my gosh. It brought the words to life. And it’s funny because I thought to myself, Maybe I could illustrate this [Laughs]. Because I do portrait illustration. I was laughing at myself because of the things that I tried to draw. And then I gave up pretty quickly. What she did just elevated the story – the movement, the color. I fell in love with the colors. They reminded me of the colors I think of, of Mexico: just a real richness and deepness and vibrancy to the colors, and the movement. I think she really made the book. I had really little feedback. I think she nailed it. And I’m so happy that she decided to take a chance on my words, and made it her own thing. I was so amazed by some of those spreads that incorporate and then add to my words. I was so thrilled.

AC: What are you hoping readers take away from Daughter of the Light-Footed People?

BM: As I alluded before, I want people to be aware of Lorena and her community. A lot of people say you can do hard things, and you can. You don’t have to have all these resources to put limitations on yourself. Kids can see that you don’t need all the stuff to be successful and that, with grit and perseverance, you can accomplish amazing things. I think that’s a great message – not to make excuses for ourselves… But seeing a woman who is from a modest background able to achieve these amazing things against people with so many more resources – now they can also accomplish whatever it is that they want to do, even if they don’t have all the things that they think they need.

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Belen Medina, the daughter of Mexican immigrants, was born and raised in California’s Central Valley. She spent her childhood summers in Mexico with her grandparents and has been navigating two cultures her entire life. Still a Californian at heart, she now lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two sons. Daughter of the Light-Footed People is her debut picture book.

Amaris Castillo is an award-winning journalist, writer, and the creator of Bodega Stories, a series featuring real stories from the corner store. Her writing has appeared in La Galería Magazine, Aster(ix) Journal, Spanglish Voces, PALABRITAS, Dominican Moms Be Like… (part of the Dominican Writers Association’s #DWACuenticos chapbook series), and most recently Quislaona: A Dominican Fantasy Anthology and Sana, Sana: Latinx Pain and Radical Visions for Healing and Justice. Her short story, “El Don,” was a prize finalist for the 2022 Elizabeth Nunez Caribbean-American Writers’ Prize by the Brooklyn Caribbean Literary Festival. She is a proud member of Latinx in Publishing’s Writers Mentorship Class of 2023 and lives in Florida with her family.

Most Anticipated June 2024 Releases

We’ve hit the mid-year mark (crazy, right?), and the great books keep coming. Here are some of our most anticipated releases for June that would look lovely on your TBR list 😉.

Isabel and The Rogue by Liana De la Rosa

The second installment of the Luna Sisters series is finally here! This is the perfect read for all romance lovers, regardless of whether you’ve read the first book (Ana María and The Fox) or not.

Isabel Luna Valdés has long since resigned herself to being the “forgotten” Luna sister. But thanks to familial connections to the Mexican ambassador in London, wallflower Isabel is poised to unearth any British intelligence hidden by the ton that might aid Mexico during the French Occupation. Though she slips easily from crowded ballrooms into libraries and private studies, Isabel’s search is hampered by trysting couples and prowling rogues—including the rakish Captain Sirius Dawson.

The Sons of El Rey by Alex Espinoza

As June is also Pride Month, we couldn’t pass up the opportunity to highlight this powerful title exploring LGBTQIA+ themes.

Ernesto Vega has lived many lives, from pig farmer to construction worker to famed luchador El Rey Coyote, yet he has always worn a mask. He was discovered by a local lucha libre trainer at a time when luchadores—Mexican wrestlers donning flamboyant masks and capes—were treated as daredevils or rock stars. Ernesto found fame, rapidly gaining name recognition across Mexico, but at great expense, nearly costing him his marriage to his wife Elena.

Years later, in East Los Angeles, his son, Freddy Vega, is struggling to save his father’s gym while Freddy’s own son, Julian, is searching for professional and romantic fulfillment as a Mexican American gay man refusing to be defined by stereotypes.

Brownstone by Samuel Teer | Illustrated by Mar Julia

Almudena has always wondered about the dad she never met.

Now, with her white mother headed on a once-in-a-lifetime trip without her, she’s left alone with her Guatemalan father for an entire summer. Xavier seems happy to see her, but he expects her to live in (and help fix up) his old, broken-down brownstone. And all along, she must navigate the language barrier of his rapid-fire Spanish—which she doesn’t speak.

As Almudena tries to adjust to this new reality, she gets to know the residents of Xavier’s Latin American neighborhood. Each member of the community has their own joys and heartbreaks as well as their own strong opinions on how this young Latina should talk, dress, and behave. Some can’t understand why she doesn’t know where she comes from. Others think she’s “not brown enough” to fit in.

Fixing a broken building is one thing, but turning these stubborn individuals into a found family might take more than this one summer.

Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil by Ananda Lima

At a Halloween party in 1999, a writer slept with the devil. She sees him again and again throughout her life and she writes stories for him about things that are both impossible and true.

Lima lures readers into surreal pockets of the United States and Brazil where they’ll find bite-size Americans in vending machines and the ghosts of people who are not dead. Once there, she speaks to modern Brazilian-American immigrant experiences–of ambition, fear, longing, and belonging―and reveals the porousness of storytelling and of the places we call home.

With humor, an exquisite imagination, and a voice praised as “singular and wise and fresh” (Cathy Park Hong), Lima joins the literary lineage of Bulgakov and Lispector and the company of writers today like Ted Chiang, Carmen Maria Machado, and Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah.

With nine stories, Craft: Stories I Wrote for the Devil is perfect for readers looking to get spooked.

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Elizabeth Cervantes is a proud Mexican book lover. She has a bachelor’s in Multimedia Journalism from the University of Texas at El Paso and is currently working on obtaining her master’s in Publishing at Pace University. When she is not studying and reading for her classes, you can find her crying, swooning, or locking her doors while reading children’s books, romance novels, and mysteries/thrillers.

Author Q&A: ‘Abuelo's Flower Shop’ by Jackie Morera

In Abuelo’s Flower Shop, a young girl named Elena is holding a bunch of yellow tulips. She shouts to her grandfather that she’s almost done gathering flowers.

It’s Elena’s first day working with Abuelo in his shop. A short time later, a woman in a black dress approaches them. She looks sad and is dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.

“Is she okay?” Elena asks after the woman leaves. Abuelo insists that she is. He tells Elena not to worry.

As the day continues, Elena meets more customers. And with each customer, she senses a heaviness she doesn’t quite understand.

Finally, Abuelo explains that they are headed to the garden across the way. It’s a sad place, but special because it’s where people visit their loved ones who have died.

Abuelo’s Flower Shop by debut author Jackie Morera is a tender and sensitive lesson on how to support those who are grieving. Morera’s gentle hand guides young readers through Elena’s journey to learning about the cemetery nearby. The illustrations by Deise Lino add an extra layer of warmth and inclusion to this story.

Morera drew from her own life to tell this fictitious tale that also celebrates intergenerational love. She recalled her grandparents selling flowers from their home in Miami. “They were street vendors, and they would sell flowers to any passerby,” she said. “They lived catty-corner from one of the bigger cemeteries down in Miami.”

Out on June 4 from Beaming Books, Abuelo’s Flower Shop is Morera’s quest to answer what it would look like if a child realizes that there’s something more to this garden across the way. This story is a softhearted lesson about grief.

Ahead of the book’s release, Morera spoke with Latinx in Publishing about the inspiration behind Abuelo’s Flower Shop, what she learned about grief while writing this story, and more.

Amaris Castillo (AC): What inspired you to write this story?

Jackie Morera (JM): I wanted to write picture books as a creative adventure because I was writing longer form and wanted to try something different. I was dredging up these ideas and these moments from the past to tell the story, so it’s loosely based on my own experience (of) growing up in Miami and visiting my abuelos who would sell flowers from buckets in front of their house. They were street vendors, and they would sell flowers to any passerby. They lived catty-corner from one of the bigger cemeteries down in Miami. 

The conversation between Elena and her abuelo – all of that is fiction. But the story, the place, and what could happen between a young child and their grown-up in those moments is what inspired this story of realizing when you’re young (that) there’s a reason why at least most of these people who are stopping by might be buying these flowers – and what that space across the street represents. And what that might look like when a child is inquisitive, or maybe isn’t inquisitive, and recognizes through various moments that there’s something more going on here and what the grown-up in that relationship might do. That’s what inspired this story: a little bit of real life, and then a little bit of speculation of what that conversation would play out as.

AC: In your book, Elena at first doesn't understand that the people who come to her abuelo's flower shop are grieving. How did you approach this lesson on how to support those who are grieving in order for it to be digestible to young readers?

JM: When I first wrote it, I wanted it to be a snapshot of a moment that could happen. Initially it wasn’t a book to help people understand what grief could look like. That wasn’t the motivation for putting the story together. It ends up feeling more that way, and I’m grateful for that. I’m grateful to have that story out there for children, and for caregivers who are looking to help children through those. But for me, I really wanted it to be an inquisitive child who is excited to be supporting or just being with her grandfather, and realizing a little bit more about what is happening around her. And then that led to a conversation about empathy and understanding how other people might be feeling and why.

(I also wanted it to touch on) the complicated relationship between young children and their caregivers or the grown-ups in their lives. In my experience, in the Latino community, the men are often head of household and maintain a lot of the more adult topics and the things that they try to keep children safe from understanding. So it was a little bit of all of these things. 

“Initially it wasn’t a book to help people understand what grief could look like. That wasn’t the motivation for putting the story together. It ends up feeling more that way, and I’m grateful for that.”

AC: Some adults try to protect the young people in their lives from harsh realities or sadness, which can be futile. In your book, these themes literally arrive at Abuelo's flower room. I notice, though, that Elena isn't aware at first what that garden across the road really is. Why did you choose to have Abuelo initially keep that fact from her?

JM: In my experience growing up in a Latino community, children are very protected. I think there’s a nice difference here from what I experienced growing up with a lot of the grown-ups in my life, to what I would love for children to experience with grown-ups in their life – which is more of a softness, sensitivity, and an openness to having these conversations. But that’s where it started. 

Obviously, we’re not a monolith. Not every community is this way, especially when it comes to grief. But the grown-ups and specifically the men like to protect the children as much as possible with these difficult topics, and keep them away from grief and loss and all of this. Elena is so excited to help her abuelo and be with him out there. This is a beautiful place with flowers and people, and there’s a garden across the street. She’s so little, so she doesn’t need to know these things. And I think sometimes adults wait until the very last minute to say something, to make something clear. In this instance, Elena is not experiencing grief herself. So it’s (about) recognizing the grief in other people. 

Even now, as a parent, you never know when is the right time to share something with your child. I think abuelo is doing a little bit of that: he’s trying to maintain her knowledge of what is happening until it is really in front of her – until the customers really start to approach and she’s realizing. As a grown-up he’s kind of struggling with that, from when to make that clear.

AC: While writing this book, did you learn anything new about grief?

JM: I think there’s been changes over the past couple of years in general with how open we should be or recommended to be with children, and how explicit we should be in our language. 

If I had written this story 10 years ago before having children, before working with children, before that educational awareness, maybe the language would have been a little bit softer. And now it says ‘people who died’ in the text because that’s something that is helpful for children anywhere, to have that very literal language of, this is what happens, and this is a way that you can keep the memories of that person alive. Whether that’s you as someone who has experienced loss and death, or you as someone who is helping somebody through that difficult time. That’s definitely something; how direct we have to be with our language with children. I feel like that’s a pretty big change. 

AC: What are you hoping readers take away from Abuelo’s Flower Shop?

JM: I hope that readers walk away feeling more able to be curious. Because I think that’s something that I love about Elena. She’s asking these questions out loud, and that leads her to understanding what is happening. And if she didn’t ask, she might have come to her own conclusions – and maybe those wouldn’t have been the correct conclusions, or she wouldn’t have realized and had this opportunity to learn what’s going on. 

I think recognizing that it’s OK to ask questions in uncomfortable moments helps you to be a more empathetic person. There are ways that you can help people who are going through difficult moments, even in small ways (like) helping them pick a flower or helping them remember their loved one… So that curiosity and that sense of, it’s OK to ask questions. And there are people around me who can help me better understand what’s happening.

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Jackie Morera is an author of books for young readers of all ages. Born and raised in Miami, Jackie now lives in Central Florida with her husband, son, and goofy pup. She enjoys telling stories, savoring pastelitos, and cozying up for a good nap.

Amaris Castillo is an award-winning journalist, writer, and the creator of Bodega Stories, a series featuring real stories from the corner store. Her writing has appeared in La Galería Magazine, Aster(ix) Journal, Spanglish Voces, PALABRITAS, Dominican Moms Be Like… (part of the Dominican Writers Association’s #DWACuenticos chapbook series), and most recently Quislaona: A Dominican Fantasy Anthology and Sana, Sana: Latinx Pain and Radical Visions for Healing and Justice. Her short story, “El Don,” was a prize finalist for the 2022 Elizabeth Nunez Caribbean-American Writers’ Prize by the Brooklyn Caribbean Literary Festival. She is a proud member of Latinx in Publishing’s Writers Mentorship Class of 2023 and lives in Florida with her family and dog.