Australian author Craig Silvey, known for his bestselling books Jasper Jones, Honeybee and Runt, has pleaded guilty to possessing and distributing child exploitation material. Two further charges were dropped, including allegations he produced child exploitation material.

Silvey is yet to be sentenced, but what we do with his books will be decided outside the court of law. Families, libraries, schools and bookshops may be struggling to know how to proceed.

In his home state of Western Australia, Minister for Education Sabine Winton has confirmed Silvey's books will be banned from being used as texts in the state’s public schools.

Is it possible to separate the art from the artist?

The recent cancellation of First Nations children’s book Bila by University of Queensland Press – scrapped because of statements made by its illustrator, not anything in the book itself – is a reminder that destroying books is always problematic.

But sitting with the discomfort of keeping Silvey’s books in circulation is genuinely hard when children have been harmed. What do we tell a young person who asks why their favourite book has disappeared from the shelf – or why it hasn’t?

A personal betrayal

A generation of Australians has grown up with Jasper Jones, a fixture on school reading lists, along with its popular stage adaptation and film. For the many who continue to feel deeply attached to the texts they study in high school, Silvey’s conviction may feel like a personal betrayal.

On TikTok, one young woman is throwing her copies of Honeybee and Jasper Jones in the bin, with the caption “one of my favourite authors … no longer”.

My own gender-fluid kids are acutely aware of J.K. Rowling’s critical views on trans people. They won’t watch the new Harry Potter adaptations, but have not thrown out their books. Young people have different ways of sitting with such tensions – and that’s OK.

Parents may no longer feel comfortable keeping Silvey’s books, or may be reluctant to remove a child’s favourite book, especially amid a global downturn in children reading for pleasure. Deciding what to do together with the books could be a way to help a young person process their feelings.

Gentle, age-appropriate honesty will be important in these difficult conversations. For younger children, that might mean something simple and direct: “Craig Silvey looked at pictures and videos of children being hurt, and shared them with others. That is against the law, and it harmed real children.” No young person should be made to feel ashamed for having loved these books.

A problem with Jasper Jones

Jasper Jones (2009) sold nearly a million copies worldwide. It was voted one of ABC Radio National’s 100 Best Books of the 21st century. So was Silvey’s controversial novel about a troubled trans teenager, Honeybee (2020), winner of the 2021 Australian Indie Book Award. His award-winning illustrated novel Runt (2022) attracted a younger audience, spurning a sequel and a feature film.

In Jasper Jones, which defined Silvey’s career, 13-year-old Charlie is drawn into the aftermath of a young woman’s death by Indigenous character Jasper, who knows he will be blamed for it. Charlie helps him hide Laura’s body. In the novel’s denouement, we discover she was the victim of sexual abuse perpetrated by her own father; she died by suicide.

Jasper Jones was published in Australia as adult literary fiction. But in the United States it was published as young adult fiction, making the American Library Association’s 2012 Best Fiction for Young Adults list. It was then repackaged as young adult in Australia.

While I don’t advocate censorship, I’ve long found the novel’s presence on school text lists troubling – Laura’s sexual abuse and death by suicide exist primarily to catalyse the growth of a young male protagonist. I have always felt the original decision to publish Jasper Jones as adult fiction – which would have driven editorial decisions, including its (bleak) ending – was correct.

Are we ‘cancelling’ Silvey?

Following Silvey’s arrest in January 2026, his Australian publishers Allen & Unwin and Fremantle Press halted promotion of his work. Major booksellers pulled his titles. Australian state education departments removed his books from curricula. The Belvoir Theatre Company announced it would indefinitely pause the stage adaptation of Runt it had scheduled for this August.

Has Silvey been “cancelled”? As acclaimed novelist Rebecca Makkai wrote about author Alice Munro, after it was revealed Munro turned a blind eye to her second husband’s abuse of her daughter, it’s not that simple.

“Canceled” implies that something, collectively, has been done to the author, rather than that individual people are making choices to relinquish, perhaps with great pain and mourning, the work of a writer they once loved. Or to relinquish some of it. Or to look at it quite differently.

You may still be able to find Silvey’s books in your local library. Libraries have collection policies to help guide decisions in situations such as this. Most Australian public libraries operate under policies aligned with the Australian Library and Information Association’s free access to information principles, which explicitly resist the removal of material on moral or reputational grounds.

Unless a title is legally prohibited, a library has limited grounds to remove a book simply because its author has been convicted of an offence. To do otherwise risks setting a precedent that could lead to censorship.

That said, many librarians will likely be quietly reconsidering how prominently Silvey’s titles are displayed.

So much at stake

Months before his arrest, Silvey toured Australian schools to promote the sequel to Runt. There is no direct link between his crime and his books or public appearances – unlike the case of Sydney children’s author Oliver Phommavanh, sentenced to jail in February for sending sexually-explicit messages to three underage students. (Two had contacted him after he visited their schools.)

However, Silvey’s access to children through his public standing must be unsettling for the many organisations who have hosted him. And cases like these risk unbalancing the fragile trust between schools and children’s authors.

As a children’s author myself, I once relied on school visits as a source of income and a way to connect with my readers. Most children’s authors are good, kind people, passionate about books. School visits and assigned texts by living authors can help inspire a lifelong love of reading.

Today, I’m thinking of the collaborators who were involved in producing Silvey’s books and their adaptations – and dedicated years to bringing his stories to life. I’m thinking of the parents, grandparents, booksellers, librarians and teachers who have put these books in young people’s hands. And of the children and young adults who love his books.

But most importantly, behind Silvey’s guilty plea are children who were exploited and abused. Concerns about his art, its legacy, or the shockwaves in Australian children’s literature are worth thinking about – but shouldn’t obscure that fact.

If this article has raised issues for you, or if you’re concerned about someone you know, call Lifeline on 13 11 14.

This article is republished from The Conversation under a Creative Commons licence. Read the original article.