As natural disasters continue to roil our planet, many adults are wondering: How do we encourage young people to stay positive? Guojing’s The House That Floated (Random House Studio, September 16) offers answers. This harrowing yet hopeful and wordless tale follows a family who live in a little red house on a cliff over the sea; as the waters slowly rise, the people embark on a journey to safety, bringing their beloved cottage with them. The author/illustrator, who lives in Vancouver, answered our questions by email.

What inspired you while writing this book?

Like many people, I’ve been deeply affected by the news—forest fires, floods, and storms, devastating lives across the world. While I was searching for a meaningful way to tell this story, I came across a sign on the beach in Richmond, British Columbia: “We are preparing for the issue of rising water levels.” That moment struck me. Climate change was here, around us, and very real.

Digging deeper, I discovered the Newfoundland Resettlement Program from 1960s Canada—where over 28,000 people from more than 300 remote coastal communities were relocated, often by floating their houses across the sea, in an effort to bring them closer to essential services. The resilience and emotional weight of that history moved me deeply.

The house feels almost like a fourth protagonist.

Visually, I gave the house rich detail. Its weather vane, windows, and shape are lovingly rendered, while the people are shown in soft silhouettes or shadows. This theatrical approach was intentional, to let the house embody presence and emotion without words.

To me, the house symbolizes belonging, memory, and the continuity of life. It’s a witness to love, struggle, and resilience. The story revolves around the effort to protect it—not just by the people, but by the natural world itself. Even a dolphin joins the effort, showing that this isn’t just about saving a structure—it’s about valuing all life and the environment we share.

What’s especially challenging—and rewarding—about creating a wordless book?

Without the guidance of text, the visuals must carry everything—emotion, pacing, atmosphere. It’s a delicate balance, because with that freedom, the reader can sometimes drift or miss the heart of the story. But when it works—when the reader’s imagination flows alongside the images and their journey finds harmony with the story’s path—it becomes a truly immersive experience.

How do we encourage young readers to persevere in the face of climate change?

I think the key is helping young readers understand that nature is not something separate from us—it’s our shared home.

In my story, a dolphin guides them to their new home. That’s the kind of hope I want to nurture: the belief that when we care—for one another, for animals, for the planet—we’re never truly alone in facing life’s challenges. Nature becomes our ally. The world may be changing, but when we stay connected to it, we can find strength, beauty, and purpose. Teaching children to love and protect nature gives them a sense of belonging and responsibility. And that connection—rooted in love—is what will keep their hearts hopeful, no matter how big the storms may be. Maybe that’s why we often call it “Mother Nature” with respect and appreciation.

Mahnaz Dar is a young readers’ editor.