Cover image: Taigu, China – 2009: Daniel Tam-Claiborne presents a carved pumpkin during a Halloween lesson at Shanxi Agricultural University (Courtesy of Daniel Tam-Claiborne)
The feeling of being caught between worlds is one many know well. For those who straddle identities—whether as immigrants, children of immigrants, expats, refugees or cultural wanderers—there’s a quiet exhaustion in constantly translating yourself–in being asked, “Where are you really from?” “Do you feel more American or more Chinese?”
Daniel Tam-Claiborne knows this feeling deeply. His debut novel, Transplants, to be released on May 13, 2025, captures the experience of longing for home in a place that may not fully accept you. The story follows Lin, a Chinese student forced to leave home after a scandal, and Liz, a Chinese American teacher searching for answers about her family’s past. As their lives unfold across China and the U.S., they grapple with belonging, betrayal, and the weight of cultural expectations—all against the backdrop of an increasingly fractured U.S.-China relationship.
The novel is deeply personal for Tam-Claiborne, who taught English at Shanxi Agricultural University in rural China for two years during the H1N1 outbreak in 2009. His time there made him question who gets to belong, who gets left behind, and how even fleeting encounters can alter someone’s trajectory forever. Years later, as COVID-19 swept across the world, he realized his story needed to reflect the new realities of cross-border life—visa restrictions, rising Sinophobia, and the quiet ways geopolitics shape human relationships.
Tam-Claiborne sat down with EST Media to reflect on his journey writing Transplants, the power of cultural exchange, and what it means to exist in limbo.
Xintian Tina Wang:
What first sparked the idea for Transplants, and how did the story evolve?
Daniel Tam-Claiborne:
The idea for Transplants was over 15 years in the making. It started when I was living and teaching English at a university in rural Shanxi Province, China, right after undergrad. That experience shaped my first fiction project—a short story collection called What Never Leaves (2012), which is a semi-autobiographical work detailing my teaching experiences.
We often frame international education and cross-cultural exchange as a mutually beneficial experience for all parties involved– I believe that's generally the case, I also think there are exceptions. I find myself wondering: Is it possible that, rather than always being a positive force, our presence and involvement in others' lives—our meddling, our arrival at a specific moment in time—could sometimes have an adverse impact on the very people we seek to engage with?
The novel was originally set in the late 2000s, but when I began writing in 2019, the real-world pandemic hit. Instead of keeping the story in the past, I moved it to the present, which raised the stakes. Writing about an unfolding crisis allowed me to explore themes of agency, migration, power, and the U.S.-China relationship in a way that felt immediate.
Xintian Tina Wang:
The novel contains many unique Chinese phrases and slang. How did you approach language, and what do you hope readers unfamiliar with Chinese culture take away from it?
Daniel Tam-Claiborne:
Historically, Asian American literature has catered to an English-speaking audience, offering italicized translations or explicit explanations of non-English words. From icons such as The Good Earth (2013) to The Joy Luck Club (2006), there’s been this mode of making sure readers feel guided through the foreign elements.
But there’s been a shift in contemporary literature—one of my biggest inspirations was Junot Díaz’s The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao (2007), where Spanish words appear without translation. Readers either figure it out or move forward with context clues. I wanted to do the same in Transplants. The dialogue needed to feel genuine—true to how my characters would speak, rather than filtered through the expectation of making things digestible for a Western audience.
Xintian Tina Wang:
What was it like teaching in China during the H1N1 pandemic [also known as the swine flu pandemic, a global outbreak of a novel influenza A virus that emerged in 2009], and how did that experience shape the way you wrote about cross-border tensions?
Daniel Tam-Claiborne:
When I was in China in 2009, I thought the H1N1 response was strict—but in hindsight, it was nothing compared to COVID-19. There weren’t mask mandates, but there was a quarantine. Students and teachers weren’t allowed to leave campus, and we had daily temperature checks.
One thing that stuck with me was how foreigners were treated differently. Unlike Chinese students, we could leave and re-enter campus if we carried a foreign expert certificate. That privilege, even in a lockdown, underscored the hierarchies that exist in cross-cultural settings.
That experience made me more conscious of power dynamics in education—who gets to be the teacher, who gets to be the student, and how Western presence in China can have both positive and unintended consequences. Those ideas are woven throughout Transplants.
Xintian Tina Wang:
The book explores “otherness” and this “in-betweenness” shared by many immigrants and expats. How do these themes relate to today’s socio political climate for the AA+PI community?
Daniel Tam-Claiborne:
Both [characters] Liz and Lin experience “otherness” in different ways—Liz as a Chinese American who feels neither fully American nor fully Chinese, and Lin as a Chinese student bullied for her silence. Their struggles mirror the AA+PI community’s ongoing challenges—the feeling of being perpetual foreigners, always needing to prove belonging.
During the pandemic, Sinophobia surged, and many Asian Americans were suddenly seen as “threats,” even if they had lived in the U.S. their entire lives. Meanwhile, in China, foreigners—especially those who didn’t look Asian—were blamed for bringing COVID-19 into the country. There’s a deep irony in how both nations reject outsiders, even as their citizens seek opportunity across borders.
This sense of never fully belonging anywhere is something I wanted to explore in the book. It’s not just about the U.S.-China divide—it’s about what it means to live in an interstitial space, never quite at home, no matter where you go.
Xintian Tina Wang:
If Liz and Lin were navigating today’s world, how would their experiences differ?
Daniel Tam-Claiborne:
I think about this a lot. Would Liz still be in China? Would Lin be able to stay in the U.S.?
Given today’s political climate, Lin might struggle to get a visa or a work permit, even with a STEM degree. She might feel forced to return to China, despite her complicated feelings about home. Meanwhile, Liz would be one of the few foreigners still teaching in China, as fewer Americans are moving there due to tightening policies and rising tensions.
It’s a darker, more difficult reality than the one I wrote about. When I started this novel, I was hopeful that these characters could forge new paths. But looking at where we are today, many people are questioning where “home” truly is. For immigrants, for the Chinese diaspora, for so many of us caught in between, that question feels more urgent than ever.