This is how I read Nacho's Taco, the latest entry in Bloomsbury's Object Lessons series: as an invitation to ride along, to taste and think and remember.

Diego Rivera reviews LatinoLand through an insightful analysis and gets to the book's core arguments and delivery.

Daniel Chacón's fiction doesn't just cross borders; it questions the very nature of boundaries themselves.

Anzaldúa's work is central to my research interests, particularly materials related to children's and young adult literature, queer femininity, and water imagery in folkloric contexts.

This refreshing novel weaves together the story of forgotten Cuban artist Anita de Monte in the 1980s and Puerto Rican-American Raquel Toro in the late 1990s. Anita battles marginalization in the art world and oppression from her abusive husband—even after her death. A decade later, Raquel navigates her identity as a Latina at Brown University, constantly reminded of her supposed inferiority in elite spaces.

Living as I do, entre mundos/between moving worlds, I hope to continue to tell stories that illuminate, resist, and heal.

Chapa tells a new story for Malinalli, creating an environment where Malinalli has a chance to show herself in a way that history has not afforded her.

For too long, horror has spoken in a single accent—one that whispers of European castles, New England graveyards, and monsters born from traditions that never felt like home. But Our Shadows Have Claws (Hatchett, 2022) arrives like a long-overdue reckoning, and this time, the terror speaks in voices I recognize, in languages that feel like family.

Alejandro Heredia offers something far more valuable: the messy, beautiful truth of lives lived between languages, cultures, and identities

While the border is commonly depicted as a site of danger or crisis, Ruiz shows it as a place of community and care. Families move between cultures with ease, switching between Spanish and English, crossing bridges and borders not in fear but as a part of daily life. This depiction honors South Texas as complex, vibrant, and deeply American.

This is about stepping into a world of what-ifs and asking questions that can unravel everything.

It's a book for all time. It's the stories of working Chicanos who build the physical and cultural infrastructure of this country while being told they don't quite belong. Their stories will always matter. They will always need telling.

Genesis Stanley's Book Talk on Natasha Alford's Extraordinary Memoir, American Negra

This book is, in many ways, a love letter to the Southwest—especially Colorado and New Mexico.

When I'm writing, I'm not thinking about representing an entire culture or place. I'm just thinking about representing the experiences of these particular people on the page.

This semi-autobiographical novel lands like a punch to the chest because Pérez refuses to sanitize the migrant experience. Instead, she offers something far more valuable: an unflinching look at how families fracture and heal under the weight of assimilation, how racism operates both outside and within our own communities, and how resilience grows in the most unlikely soil.

This comic is a tribute: to her, to the borderlands, and to the mestiza consciousness that takes shape in the messy, meaningful rituals of becoming.

If you’re looking to read horror, historical fiction, slow burn romance, or simply a few hundred pages of engrossing prose, Alba Díaz and Isabel Cañas will not disappoint.

With her Mexican heritage front and center, Segura tells a story that blends romance, adventure, and meaningful social critique with effortless charm.

Alita: Battle Angel is a vibrant, layered world mirrored the social disparities often explored in Latin American cinema