Ahmad Akbarpour (born 1970 in Chah Varz, Lamerd County, Fars Province) is one of Iran’s most prolific writers of children’s and young adult literature. He has authored and published more than sixty books across a wide range of forms and genres, including short humorous works, novels, short stories, horror fiction, and retellings of folk tales. Akbarpour’s stories speak to children non-patronizingly, addressing themes of loss, connection and empathy (That Night’s Train; Good Night, Commander), identity and resistance (I’m Not Dad’s Servant; I Am a Scarecrow but Am Scared), resilience (Three Magical Whistles; If I Were a Pilot), and fantasy (The Giant and the Bicycle; Letters to No One) among others. The Children’s Book Council of Iran announced in a statement that Akbarpour has been nominated as Iran’s candidate for the 2026 Hans Christian Andersen Award, citing his three decades of sustained work in shaping and elevating modern children’s and young adult literature in the country. Akbarpour employs a wide range of literary techniques, including defamiliarization, stories within stories, layered narrative structures, shifting points of view, and open-ended conclusions. He frequently draws on autobiographical details, weaving them into his work without tipping into overtly personal or confessional writing. In the interview that follows, Akbarpour reflects on his long literary journey, discussing his educational background, literary influences, and challenges he has faced over the years. He speaks candidly about the responsibilities of writing for young audiences and the evolving landscape of children’s literature in Iran. Much like his writing style, which often appears effortlessly simple yet rewards careful reading between lines, in this interview, Akbarpour points out issues he faces as a children’s book author. He touches on the difficulty of accessing schools to connect with young readers and the challenges posed by language barriers and what he calls the shortage of skilled literary translators who can bring his work to a wider audience. Read more below.
Khalvati: Your academic background is in psychology. How do you think psychology has contributed to shaping your stories? In other words, if you had not studied psychology, do you think you would have written differently?
Akbarpour: I believe that through life experiences, one comes to understand certain things that form the rudimentary basis of psychology and sociology. A genius like Fyodor Dostoevsky has a sharper instinct for psychological matters, and someone like Gabriel García Márquez possesses a keener sensitivity to sociological issues without either of them having gone through an academic path. With the benefit of the hindsight, I cannot deny the impact of psychology on my work, but it has never been a conscious process for me. When I write, I do not even think about storytelling techniques.
With all that said, I admit that in my personal life I am also sensitive to the nature of people’s relationships and to their individual and collective traits. For example, I keep some distance from self-centred friends. It matters to me to have relationships with people who have the capacity to accept others, and through interacting with whom one can always arrive at a fresher understanding and awareness.
Khalvati: Who have been the most influential Iranian and foreign writers for you, and in what way?
Akbarpour: The most influential foreign writer for me is Franz Kafka. Among writers for children and young adults, Roald Dahl, Michael Ende, and Astrid Lindgren have been the most impactful. Each of these writers has activated and sharpened a different part of my mind and imagination: Roald Dahl gave me an added boldness, Michael Ende expanded my sense of fantasy, and Astrid Lindgren instilled free-mindedness and the removal of gender bias from literature. I don’t know which of them has had the greater share in shaping my writing, but in all my workshops these three—alongside several others such as Dr. Seuss and Shel Silverstein—are the true standouts.
Among Iranian writers, I admire and have learned from many, such as Houshang Moradi Kermani, who is a pioneer and groundbreaker. Among contemporary writers, Abbas Jahangirian, Jamshid Khanian, Hamidreza Shahabadi, Tahereh Eybod, Ali-Asghar Seyyed Abadi, Navid Seyyed Aliakbar, Mehdi Rajabi, Majid Shafiei, Farhad Hassanzadeh, and Atoosa Salehi.
Khalvati: In a previous interview, you mentioned that you try to create new reading needs for children and young adults, and the range of topics you address is also diverse. How do you identify these new reading needs? What is the children’s response to this thematic variety and which topics resonates with them the most?
Akbarpour: New reading needs for children are not something that take shape consciously, but when an idea occupies a writer’s mind for years, it will certainly emerge from somewhere and reveal itself. After all, every writer has lived through childhood and adolescence and is therefore familiar with that world; what matters is bringing those experiences into dialogue with the contemporary world so that something genuinely new can emerge.
The feedback from my readers has been very interesting to me. Having written ten or fifteen books, I began turning toward humor, a move that some friends and a few critics viewed as a step backward. But the perspective of child and young adult readers was completely different. Now, in any gathering of teenagers I attend, their first request is for me to read to them humorous pieces from Stupid Words or Don’t Think of Any Donkey But Me. Of course, I should emphasize that readers of original works (as opposed to translations) are generally very few.
Khalvati: Given your decades of experience writing for children, have you noticed any changes in children’s tastes or their inclination toward particular types, genres, or subjects across generations? It seems that the new generation of children shows less interest in fairy tales and fantasy stories and perhaps has become a bit more realist. What is your view?
Akbarpour: Unfortunately, going to places such as schools—where one can easily interact with the audience—is like passing through the seven trials of Rostam. Even so, in the places where interaction has been possible, I have noticed that the horror genre is their first priority. After that, romantic stories and various kinds of humorous stories are popular. These are merely my initial observations, and researchers should provide a precise answer to this question.
Khalvati: In writing humorous works, maintaining a balance between the humorous aspect and the narrative—so that children can connect with the story—is very important. How do you create this balance? And how do you determine whether the humor in a work is appropriate for the reader’s age? Which of your humorous works do children connect with the most? Works such as Don’t Think of Any Donkey But Me and Stupid Words or Ghoulmaz, Fall into Chachalak, and so on?
Akbarpour: Creating balance in humor is one of the magic elements of writing, and for me at least, it rarely happens consciously. Both storytelling and humor have such diverse forms that one should not worry too much about this issue. What matters to me is taking the audience’s common sense seriously—considering the reader a confidant and companion, not looking at them from a superior vantage point. To know that we are sitting across from each other, not one above and one below. If you truly believe this, it will naturally show up in your work.
As for my humorous books, as I mentioned, Don’t Think of Any Donkey But Me and Stupid Words have been received more enthusiastically.
Khalvati: Considering the shortening attention span of children and readers, and their growing habit of engaging with short, concise, and brief forms, how much has the style of writing short pieces in books like Don’t Think of Any Donkey But Me and Stupid Words contributed to their appeal for children?
Akbarpour: It may not have happened entirely consciously. In general, I like short humorous pieces, like Woody Allen’s short works. To read a humorous novel, you need to be in good conditions and have enough time, but you can turn to short humorous stories in any situation. I always suggest to friends who own cafés to put collections of humorous pieces on their tables so customers can flip through them. I remember when teenagers came to the book fair asking for something humorous, the publisher would recommend Stupid Words to them, and they were pleased with how short the pieces were and they would buy it.
Khalvati: Tell us about the illustration of your works. Considering the importance of illustration in children’s books, do the illustrations follow your ideas, or do they interact with the text in a dialogic way? Have there been cases where they added to, reduced, or even contradicted your text? How do you respond in such situations?
Akbarpour: In my view, an illustrator is someone who needs to depict what the text leaves unsaid. They should elevate my limited imagination to a higher level, rather than keeping their eyes and ears fixed on what the author wants. If an illustration does not raise my text to a higher position, it is certainly a futile and meaningless effort. Interaction with the illustrations is very necessary, but first and foremost—and even ultimately—the illustrator must apply their unique creativity to the text. They should work independently and engage only where needed. Fortunately, I have worked with illustrators whose works have been recognised in both national and international festivals, such as Noushin Sadeghian with Daal’s Daughter in Bratislava, as well as Hoda Haddadi, Narges Mohammadi, Alireza Goldouzian, Maneli Manouchehri, Haleh Ghorbani, Fatemeh Khosravian, and Hamideh Khosravian.
Khalvati: As a children’s literature author, how can painful and frightening topics such as death, war, violence, crisis, and so on be addressed for children, and what is your own approach? For example, Hans Christian Andersen dealt with many painful and frightening topics in his stories, but he wrote them in a way that does not scare the reader.
Akbarpour: I have addressed the topic of war in several books, such as Good Night, Commander; If I Were a Pilot; You Are Brave, Commander; and Goodbye, Moon. These books have been translated and published in various countries, including Canada, the United States, China, and South Korea. I believe that nothing should be kept from children, but it must be presented in a language, understanding, and perception appropriate to them. Of course, not everyone shares the same interpretation of Hans Christian Andersen’s works, and some critics consider works like The Little Match Girl to actually cause fear and distress for children.
Khalvati: Children’s literature often transcends boundaries. Your works are rooted in your culture and sometimes in your own childhood experiences, yet they have earned international acclaim. In your texts, have you aimed to find a universal language, or to present and preserve your own native culture?
Akbarpour: When I write, I focus solely on the literary and narrative appeal of my work. Naturally, a global audience is important and pleasing to most authors, but while writing, none of these considerations guide me. Likewise, I do not consciously think about the local or native setting, but if it emerges subconsciously and fits organically in parts of the work, I welcome it. What I mean is that even the local environment, geography, and so on should serve the literature, not the other way around. I am always delighted and appreciative when my works are translated, but it is impossible for anything other than literary concerns and the form of the work to be the focus of my attention while writing. My priority is creating a literary work.
Khalvati: Several of your works have been translated into different languages, and in an interview, you discussed the challenges of translating Good Night, Commander into English. One of these challenges was translating your description of the prosthetic leg and putting it on and taking it off, which posed difficulties due to the advanced type of prosthetic legs in the modern world. Have there been other challenges in translating your books? How has the audience responded to your translated works?
Akbarpour: The challenges of translation are far from few. I had submitted The Giant and the Bicycle to a publisher in Canada for review. When experts said the book contained violence, I was nearly shocked out of my mind. The book has a humorous tone, and in one scene the child character is shot in the leg. Moreover, on the very pages in question, the child in the story even asks the author to cross out that part and remove it. In any case, I could not convince them that there is absolutely no violence in the work. Perhaps our fundamental problem is that we do not have, or have very few, professional translators who can translate from Persian into other languages.
Khalvati: In your opinion, should we train our own skilled Persian-speaking translators who will undertake the translation of these works, or should English speakers themselves take an interest in our children’s literature so that English-language translators approach us? Which do you prefer, and what do you see as the challenges and obstacles in each case?
Akbarpour: It is better for us to have our own capable translators to translate from Persian into other languages. Interaction with translators of other languages is very important, and this is in fact the way works are recognized and introduced.
Khalvati: The challenge you mentioned earlier regarding translation could perhaps also be applied to new generations of readers encountering your stories which have a more local or native setting. I mean, the world you depict might seem unfamiliar to them. In your view, does this cultural and temporal difference between generations—as seen in some of your works like I Am Not Dad’s Servant or The Train of Words—create a sense of alienation for children, or do they understand these settings?
Akbarpour: You have actually mentioned a book that has the highest number of printings among my works. I Am Not Dad’s Servant has reached its sixteenth printing. Contrary to critics’ predictions in the early years of its publication, it has been very popular and widely received by audiences. Initially, they thought that because it has a rural setting, it might not resonate well with contemporary readers, but the result was completely the opposite. In my view, if a work reaches the level of literary quality, it no longer matters whether it is urban or rural, Eastern or Western.
Khalvati: Among your works, is there one that you believe deserves more attention internationally or domestically but is less recognized? Which work and why?
Akbarpour: I believe The Giant and the Bicycle deserves to be selected for translation, but so far this has not happened. I do have a good English translation of it by Caroline Croskery, an American translator, as well as a French translation by Dr. Nasim Nekoui, done collaboratively with several French-speaking professors. Of course, it was selected as a notable work by the Children’s Book Council of Iran, but at the global level, my expectations have not been met yet.
Khalvati: What is your biggest challenge when writing for children and young adults? Considering that part of the children’s book audience includes adults, do you also take adult readers into account when writing?
Akbarpour: Honestly, I don’t really know. At least, I don’t consciously think about it much. I try to ensure that my work has appropriate suspense, strong character development, and so on. What I mean is, these are my priorities. If a work reaches the level of literary quality, whether it is intended for children or adults, it can affect all age groups and find its audience across different age groups.
Khalvati: How do you see the current state of children’s literature in the world? How much do you follow contemporary international books, and what is your opinion of them?
Akbarpour: I know world children’s literature through translations. Our good translators usually translate the standout works. We also produce good and creative works about as much as many other countries do. I mean ten to fifteen good young-adult novels a year competing with translations — and since books come in from twenty to thirty countries, that means three hundred titles against our ten or fifteen good ones.
Khalvati: The Hans Christian Andersen Award honors lasting contributions to children’s literature. What message or enduring feeling do you hope your stories will leave for future generations?
Akbarpour: The Hans Christian Andersen Award is an extraordinary recognition that multiplies a writer’s responsibility toward their works. Reiterating what I have said several times, I should say that the message of my works does not necessarily originate from my intentions or goals. For instance, many different messages have been inferred from The Giant and the Bicycle, many of which had never even crossed my mind. Or a student named Hossein Ghorbani, for his masters’ thesis in children’s literature, chose to study “democracy in my works.” I greatly value democracy, but I don’t recall consciously thinking about it while writing any of these works. Nevertheless, I hope that the messages of my works reach future generations in diverse and varied ways.
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