Cynthia Hand did something incredibly gutsy with this book. She took the most overplayed, predictable holiday trope in existence—Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol—and basically blew it up. If you've ever felt like the traditional Scrooge story is a bit too "happily ever after" for its own good, you're probably the target audience for The Afterlife of Holly Chase. It’s a YA novel, sure, but it deals with some surprisingly heavy themes about vanity, the permanence of death, and whether a person can actually change if they aren't forced to by a supernatural entity.
Holly is dead. That’s not a spoiler; it’s the premise.
Most of us grew up with the idea that when the three ghosts show up, you learn your lesson, you wake up on Christmas morning, and you buy the biggest turkey in the window. Holly Chase didn't do that. She was the "Scrooge" of her own life, a spoiled seventeen-year-old who got the visitation, looked the Ghost of Christmas Past in the eye, and basically told him to buzz off. She didn't change. So, she died. And honestly? That's a much more realistic take on human stubbornness than Dickens ever gave us.
What Actually Happens in the Afterlife of Holly Chase?
The world-building here is what keeps people talking years after the book's 2017 release. In this universe, the "Project" is a massive, corporate-style operation designed to save one soul every year. When Holly fails to reform and subsequently dies from a freak accident involving a runaway horse (ironic, right?), she doesn't go to a pearly gate. Instead, she gets stuck working for the company as the new Ghost of Christmas Past.
She’s basically a corporate drone in the afterlife.
It’s a fascinating look at the mechanics of redemption. Holly spends five years watching other people’s memories, staying seventeen forever while her friends and family age without her. It’s a weird, purgatorial existence. She’s cynical. She’s bitter. She’s still the same Holly who refused to buy her grieving father a decent gift, but now she’s wearing a uniform and haunting people for a paycheck.
The "Project" itself feels like a mix of a high-tech Silicon Valley startup and a dusty Victorian library. Hand manages to make the supernatural feel mundane, which is exactly how a job would feel after five years, even if that job involves time travel and haunting. You get the sense that the afterlife is less about harps and clouds and more about the grueling work of trying to convince humans not to be terrible to each other. It rarely works.
🔗 Read more: British TV Show in Department Store: What Most People Get Wrong
The Problem With Being a Ghost
Holly’s existence is defined by observation. This is where the narrative gets meaty. Imagine being forced to rewatch your own worst moments on a loop while also being tasked with showing a new "Scrooge" their own failures.
It’s meta.
It’s also incredibly lonely. Because she’s a ghost, she can’t interact with the living world outside of the scripted hauntings. She’s stuck in a loop. When a new candidate, Ethan, comes along for the annual haunting, the stakes shift. For the first time, Holly isn't just a bystander. She starts to feel things—which is a problem when you’re technically a corpse with a lanyard.
Why We Are Still Obsessed With This Story
Most holiday stories are about the transformation. The Afterlife of Holly Chase is about the consequence of refusing to transform. It’s about the "what if" that keeps us up at night. What if I don't get a second chance? What if the window for change actually closes?
- The Anti-Heroine Growth: Holly isn't likable for a long time. She’s shallow. She’s obsessed with her appearance even though she’s dead. But that’s why her eventual realization feels earned rather than forced by a magical plot point.
- The Corporate Supernatural: Seeing the "Ghosts" as employees with bosses, quotas, and technical glitches makes the world feel lived-in.
- The Twist: Without giving away the ending for the uninitiated, the book flips the "Scrooge" script in the final act in a way that feels both devastating and inevitable.
Hand taps into a very specific kind of teen angst—the feeling of being trapped in a role you created for yourself. Holly created the "Mean Girl" persona so well that she literally died in it. The afterlife is her chance to deconstruct that, but it doesn't happen because of a magic wand. It happens because of the slow, painful realization that she missed out on being human.
Breaking the Dickensian Mold
The original Christmas Carol is a story of Victorian morality. It suggests that a single night of terror can fix a lifetime of greed. Hand challenges that. She suggests that change is a choice you have to make every single day, and if you miss the window while you're alive, the afterlife isn't necessarily a place of rest—it's a place of reflection that might just break you.
💡 You might also like: Break It Off PinkPantheress: How a 90-Second Garage Flip Changed Everything
It’s kind of dark when you think about it.
But it’s also hopeful. The book argues that even if you’ve "failed" your big moment, there are still ways to be useful. There are still ways to love, even if you can’t touch the person you’re looking at. It's a very modern take on grief and the legacy we leave behind.
The Legacy of the Novel in YA Literature
Since its publication, the book has become a staple for people who want a "Christmas story" that doesn't feel like a Hallmark movie. It sits on the shelf next to books like Before I Fall by Lauren Oliver or The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold. It handles the "dead girl narrating" trope with a lot more snark and a lot less melodrama than its predecessors.
The prose is fast.
It doesn't linger on flowery descriptions of the afterlife. Instead, it focuses on the logistics: how the ghosts travel, what they wear, and the bureaucratic nightmares of dealing with "The Boss." This groundedness is what makes the emotional beats land so hard. When Holly finally sees her father again, or when she realizes what she actually lost, it isn't some grand cinematic moment. It’s quiet. It’s small. It’s heartbreakingly real.
Final Practical Takeaways for Readers
If you’re diving into this book for the first time or revisiting it for the holidays, keep a few things in mind to get the most out of the experience.
📖 Related: Bob Hearts Abishola Season 4 Explained: The Move That Changed Everything
First, pay attention to the dates. The timeline of Holly’s "death anniversary" and the current "Project" year is crucial for understanding how much she has actually missed. It’s easy to forget she’s been dead for years because she looks seventeen, but the world has moved on.
Second, look at the mirrors. Hand uses reflections and "seeing" as a major motif. Holly spent her life looking in mirrors to check her makeup; she spends her afterlife looking into the "mirrors" of people’s pasts to check their souls. It’s a clever bit of symbolism that isn't hit-over-the-head obvious.
Lastly, don't expect a standard romance. While there are romantic elements, the core of the story is Holly’s relationship with herself. It’s about a girl learning to be a person after she’s already lost the chance to be one.
Actionable Steps for Fans:
- Re-read the original Dickens: You’ll catch about 50% more of the Easter eggs in the Project’s office if you have the original character names fresh in your mind.
- Analyze the "Ghost" Roles: Consider which role you’d be assigned in the Project. Are you a "Past" (nostalgic/observational), a "Present" (active/social), or a "Yet to Come" (fear-based/future-oriented)?
- Track the Redemption Arc: Map out where Holly actually changes. It’s not where you think. It’s usually in the moments where she isn't being watched by her superiors.
The Afterlife of Holly Chase reminds us that the "ghosts" in our lives aren't usually supernatural. They’re the memories of who we used to be and the haunting reality of who we chose not to become. It's a reminder to buy the damn turkey while you can still eat it.