Last October, in my first column for Civil Beat, I wrote about the urgent need for new books of nonfiction about Hawaiʻi. If these titles are to have enduring influence, I argued, they ought to be written by people with deep links to the islands, for the general reader, and with the editorial resources and national stature of a major New York publishing house.

In the days after that article appeared, I received a flurry of emails. My column, it seemed, spoke to a hunger among readers. I wasn’t the only one asking the simple question: Where are the successors to the dusty volumes of the last century?

I have a bit of hopeful news. In my inbox I found notes from two authors working on exactly the sort of book I think we need. One of them is even under contract with a major imprint of Penguin Random House. Stand by for news of its publication, and perhaps a column from me about it.

Ideas showcases stories, opinion and analysis about Hawaiʻi, from the state’s sharpest thinkers, to stretch our collective thinking about a problem or an issue. Email news@civilbeat.org to submit an idea or an essay.

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Writing that first article had another upshot. It nudged me to look across the literary dividing line to the world of fiction, where I was delighted to find an exceptionally vibrant community of letters. In fact, I quickly realized that fiction writers from Hawaiʻi — many of them kānaka ‘ōiwi — are having a breakthrough moment.

If we look just at 2025 and 2026 (including forthcoming titles), I count a remarkable 11 books from major New York presses, including imprints of Simon & Schuster, Penguin Random House and HarperCollins. This, surely, is a record.

It’s not as if Hawaiʻi has ever been bereft of great fiction. There are the contemporary classics like Kaui Hart Hemmings’s “The Descendants.” We’ve also had fine books from Lois-Ann Yamanaka, Kristiana Kahakauwila, Garrett Hongo and Kiana Davenport.

Going back further, John Dominis Holt’s “Waimea Summer” remains a beloved novel. There’s also S.N. Haleʻole, a contemporary of David Malo, who wrote “The Hawaiian Romance of Lāʻieikawai,” often cited as the first book-length literary work by a Hawaiian. For any interested readers, it is available for free thanks to Project Gutenberg.

Yet major books from local authors have always come in a trickle. A good year might produce just one publication, and years could pass without any new titles at all. A single novel or collection, in other words, would have to represent to national readers our islands in their sum, a weighty literary burden.

Lately, though, something has begun to shift. It’s difficult to make a clear case for what caused it, yet one moment of genesis might be the success of Kawai Strong Washburn’s “Sharks in the Time of Saviors,” which a division of the illustrious imprint Farrar, Straus and Giroux published to immense acclaim.

Joseph Han followed in 2022 with his novel “Nuclear Family,” published by Counterpoint to glowing reviews. A year later, Bloomsbury released Megan Kamalei Kakimoto’s debut collection “Every Drop Is a Man’s Nightmare,” which the New York Times described as “rich and wise, humming with confidence.” That same year, an imprint of HarperCollins brought out Jasmin Iolani Hakes’s “Hula” to praise from the Los Angeles Times. Suddenly, literature about Hawaiʻi had momentum. No longer did one book need to carry the torch.

So, which titles are making 2025 and 2026 such banner years for Hawaiʻi authors? Here’s my attempt at an exhaustive list.

“Hammajang Luck” by Makana Yamamoto, published in January 2025 by Harper Voyager

“The Invisible Wild” by Nikki Van De Car, published in May 2025 by Running Press Kids (Hachette)

“Extinction Capital of the World” by Mariah Rigg, published in August 2025 by Ecco (HarperCollins)

“How Far I’ll Go: A Twisted Tale” by Keala Kendall, published in September 2025 by Random House/Disney

“The Shark House” by Sara Ackerman, published in January 2026 by Harper Muse

“The Pōhaku” by Jasmin Iolani Hakes, published in February 2026 by HarperVia

“The Obake Code” by Makana Yamamoto, forthcoming this month by Harper Voyager

“The Killing Spell” by Shay Kauwe, forthcoming in April from Saga Press (Simon & Schuster)

“The Shark Prince” by Malia Maunakea, forthcoming in May from Penguin Workshop

“An Expanse of Blue” by Kauakanilehua Māhoe Adams, forthcoming in May from Heartdrum (HarperCollins)

“That Which Feeds Us: A Hawaiian Gothic” by Keala Kendall, forthcoming in May from Random House Books for Young Readers

There are many reasons to celebrate these books. Given the constraints of a single column, though, let’s focus on two. First, they span the gamut of fiction. There are titles for young and middle readers. There’s fantasy, sci-fi and magic. There are adaptations of moʻolelo. There’s also a solid offering for adults, especially if you widen the scope to include Kakimoto, Han and Washburn. Readers can choose commercial page-turners or works of more formal literary ambition.  

The other reason I’m buoyed by these authors is their impetus for writing. I spoke to six of them over the course of last week, and each one told me some version of the same story: they are writing the books they wished they’d had as children and young adults.

Mariah Rigg, an O‘ahu native whose collection “Extinction Capital of the World” was included by Esquire as one of their best books of 2025, told me, “I didn’t see myself represented on a ‘big stage’ growing up.”

Here Rigg tugs at a bigger question: who gets to define how the world perceives Hawaiʻi? For much of our modern history, outsiders have long had that privilege. The public relations men of the Big Five controlled the coverage, selling a tinsel version of an island paradise to moneyed continental tourists.

In literature, James Jones’s “From Here to Eternity” and James Michener’s “Hawaii” — plus their subsequent film adaptations — further shaped how generations viewed the islands.

Then came “Blue Hawaii,” “Hawaii Five-O,” “Magnum P.I.” and “Aloha,” all of which continued to distort the narrative. This body of culture, it’s safe to say, fails to depict Hawaiʻi in all its cultural depth and nuance. It puts non-locals at the heart of the story. 

Rigg does worry whether the surge of books by local authors is a blip. “I hope it’s not one of those things in publishing where you have a year, and then people from Hawaiʻi will never be able to publish books again,” she told me.

It’s not an unreasonable concern. After the murder of George Floyd in 2020, big publishing firms pledged to diversify their operations — both the books they acquired and editors behind them. More recently, though, these same firms have backpedaled with the departure of numerous senior editors of color.

The trouble with national publishing is that decisions are often fueled by markets and the dry data of sales figures. Editors seek titles in the buzzy genres, the new trends (see the boom in romantasy for one example). They also decide which books to buy and how much to pay for them based on comparable titles. If one Hawaiʻi book tanks, in other words, they take it as suggesting a soft market and pass when agents pitch them other manuscripts.

I can’t say for certain whether, in 2027 and beyond, we’ll see so many books of fiction by Hawaiʻi authors. The actuarial odds are not in our favor.

Yet the headway these writers have made, especially over the last seven or eight years, feels significant. The curiosity from New York editors seems sincere. Nikki Van De Car, the author of “The Invisible Wild” told me she’s seen sustained and genuine interest in telling stories of unrepresented communities and places, Hawaiʻi being one of them.

I also sense a deep solidarity among this cohort of writers. Keala Kendall, a rising voice in young adult fiction, co-founded Pacific Islanders in Publishing, a platform to amplify Indigenous writing from across Melanesia, Micronesia and Polynesia. One motivation for starting the organization, she told me, was the fact that in the past, even when books from Pacific Islanders did emerge, people didn’t hear about them.

Whatever the trends in New York, no matter the far away calculations of the big publishers, one thing is certain: these books about Hawaiʻi, which number almost 20 over the last six years, are changing how the outside world perceives us.

If you’re like me and think this is a valuable service, I encourage you to support these authors. Attend their events, ask your local librarian to order copies, include them in your book clubs. And, above all, consider buying their books.

These simple acts have meaning. What you’re doing is telling agents and publishers that a market exists, that there is demand. Because of the mechanics of publishing, that interest leads to more books, more authors. And above all, it helps place our stories on a national stage. 

Let me help you get started. Craving a speculative mystery with themes of the Hawaiian diaspora? Check out “The Killing Spell” by Shay Kauwe. 

Got a young reader at home? Malia Maunakea’s “The Shark Prince” and Keala Kendall’s “That Which Feeds Us” are great fits. 

Looking for a literary work from an up-and-coming fiction writer? Read “Extinction Capital of the World” by Mariah Rigg. 

I promise, you won’t be sorry.