The news arrived in a way that felt both administrative and deeply personal: a children’s book was cancelled, printed copies were under review for recycling options, and Evelyn Araluen was among the authors saying the decision changed how they saw the publisher. The dispute now reaches far beyond one title and into the question of who gets published, who bears responsibility, and how much a book can be caught in the fallout of its illustrator’s words.
What happened to the children’s book?
University of Queensland Press said it would not proceed with Bila, A River Cycle, a children’s book written by Jazz Money and illustrated by Matt Chun. The university said the decision followed comments Chun made in an online article that did not align with its policies and values, including its adopted definition of antisemitism.
The book had already been paused in January while the publisher considered Chun’s comments. The title itself was described as a lyrical journey through Country, telling the story of a river that takes on human form. Instead, it has become the focus of a wider conflict over language, grief, and the responsibilities of cultural institutions.
Why are authors speaking out?
Several authors said they would terminate their contracts or refuse to work with the Brisbane publisher in future. Among them were Evelyn Araluen, the Goorie and Koori poet; Randa Abdel-Fattah, a high-profile Palestinian Australian author; and Melissa Lucashenko, an award-winning First Nations author who called the decision an egregious one.
For these writers, the issue is not only one book. It is also about trust. A publisher’s response to a controversy can shape whether authors believe their work will be handled with consistency and care. Evelyn Araluen’s name in the dispute gives that reaction added weight, because it signals that the concern is being voiced by writers with different backgrounds but a shared alarm about the outcome.
How did the illustrator’s comments intensify the backlash?
Chun’s post, titled “We don’t mourn fascists, ” was published on 1 January and focused on the Bondi beach attack. In it, he criticised what he called liberal capitulation to the Zionist framing of the attack and described the victims as affluent beneficiaries of imperialism. He also wrote that white, Jewish settler victimhood demanded exceptional grief and said that the slogan “We don’t mourn fascists” was quickly discarded when the idyll of colonial Bondi was ruptured.
New South Wales police confirmed on Thursday that the Engagement and Hate Crime Unit was investigating Chun’s post. That step gives the dispute an official dimension, moving it beyond literary circles and into law-enforcement scrutiny.
Fifteen people were killed in the terror attack on 14 December, including a child aged 10. Against that backdrop, the comments became the flashpoint that led the publisher to act and the authors to reconsider their relationships with it.
What do supporters of the decision say?
The Queensland Jewish Board of Deputies welcomed the move. Its president, Jason Steinberg, said publishing a book whose illustrator expressed views such as Chun’s would be unacceptable. He said sentiments like those had enabled hate and falsehoods to fester in Australia, creating an environment for the worst terrorist attack to occur on Australian shores, specifically targeting Jewish Australians.
The university’s position was framed as a matter of policy and values. The publisher said the comments did not align with its adopted definition of antisemitism. That explanation places institutional standards at the center of the response, rather than a judgment on the literary merits of the book itself.
What does this mean for authors and publishers now?
For writers, the episode is a warning that editorial partnerships can unravel quickly when public statements collide with institutional policy. For publishers, it shows how a decision made in response to one controversy can trigger another, especially when authors feel the response is too severe or too slow.
Evelyn Araluen is now part of a wider group of authors whose reactions suggest a lasting break, not a temporary disagreement. The book may be the immediate casualty, but the larger story is about who decides what can remain on the shelf, what gets recycled, and what kind of publishing culture survives the next dispute.
In the end, the image of a children’s book sits uneasily beside the university’s talk of recycling options and the grief surrounding the Bondi attack. That tension is unlikely to fade soon, and for Evelyn Araluen and others, it leaves one hard question hanging over the page.
