When Nina LaCour published her debut novel, Hold Still, in 2009, the landscape of Young Adult (YA) literature was in a weird spot. We were right on the cusp of the "trauma porn" era where books about mental health often felt like they were checking boxes for maximum shock value. You know the ones. They usually involve elaborate scavenger hunts or tapes left behind to blame everyone for a person’s death.
Hold Still is different. It's quiet.
Honestly, it's one of those books that lingers because it doesn't try to be a thriller. It just tries to be true. The story follows Caitlin, a high school junior who is basically a ghost of herself after her best friend, Ingrid, dies by suicide. There’s no big mystery to solve, even though Caitlin finds Ingrid’s journal hidden under her bed. There is just the crushing, daily weight of existing when your "person" isn't there anymore.
The Journal That Isn't a Treasure Map
Most people who pick up this book expect the journal to be a series of clues. We've been conditioned by pop culture to think that if a character leaves something behind, it's a puzzle. But LaCour makes a much more painful, realistic choice: the journal is just a record of a girl who was hurting.
Caitlin reads it slowly. She rations the entries because once they’re gone, Ingrid is really, truly gone.
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What makes this work so well—and why it won a William C. Morris Debut YA Award honor—is that the journal entries aren't flowery or overly dramatic. They are messy. They include sketches (beautifully illustrated by Mia Nolting) and fragments of thoughts that show a descent into depression that wasn't anyone's "fault."
It’s a direct contrast to stories like 13 Reasons Why. In those narratives, suicide is often framed as a lesson or a way to get back at people. In Hold Still, it’s portrayed as a tragic, internal loss. It’s about the "aching, gaping hole" left behind, as Gayle Forman once put it.
Why the "Hold Still" Title Actually Matters
You've probably felt that feeling where you're afraid to move because you think you might literally shatter. That’s where the title comes from. Caitlin is holding still.
She spends a lot of time in the back seat of her car—a car she can't even drive because she never got her license. It’s a literal and metaphorical state of being parked.
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Characters Who Feel Like Real People
One thing you'll notice is that there are no villains. In most high school books, there's a "mean girl" or a "jerk jock." Here, everyone is just... trying.
- Dylan: The new girl who is unapologetically herself and pushes Caitlin to start living again.
- Taylor: A guy from the "popular" crowd who isn't a trope; he’s just a person who likes Caitlin and is patient with her.
- Caitlin’s Parents: They are terrified. They don't know what to say, so they try to give her space while hovering just enough to make sure she’s still breathing.
The photography aspect is also huge. Both girls were into it, and it serves as a way for Caitlin to start seeing the world through a lens again, quite literally. She begins to build things—like that massive treehouse—as a way to externalize the reconstruction happening inside her.
The Banned Book Reality
It’s wild to think about, but even in 2026, we’re still seeing Hold Still show up on banned book lists in places like Florida and Pennsylvania.
Why? Usually, it's because it deals with "mature themes." But the reality is that the book handles these themes with incredible grace. It doesn't glamorize self-harm or suicide. If anything, it’s a manual for how to survive the aftermath. It’s a book about the "irrational nature" of sadness, which can be uncomfortable for adults who want there to be a simple "A + B = C" reason for why kids struggle.
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The Impact on Mental Health Conversations
Nina LaCour has this way of writing that feels like a "cozy cup of tea," even when the subject is devastating. She doesn't rush the grief.
If you're looking for a book that will make you "ugly cry," this is it. But it's not a hopeless cry. It's the kind of cry that feels like a release. The book is structured by seasons—Summer, Fall, Winter, Spring—and as the weather changes, you see the subtle, almost microscopic ways Caitlin begins to thaw.
What most people get wrong about this book is thinking it's a "suicide book." It's not. It’s a "living book." It’s about the awkwardness of making a new friend and feeling like you’re betraying your old one. It’s about the first time you laugh after a tragedy and the immediate guilt that follows.
Actionable Takeaways for Readers
If you're planning to read (or re-read) Hold Still, here are a few ways to really sit with the experience:
- Pay attention to the art: Don't just skip the journal pages. The illustrations by Mia Nolting are vital to understanding Ingrid as a creator, not just a victim.
- Look for the "The Cure" references: Music is a tether in this book. If you listen to the bands mentioned while reading, the atmosphere shifts significantly.
- Check out the 10th-anniversary edition: It includes an essay by Nina LaCour that gives a lot of context on why she wrote this as her graduate thesis at Mills College.
- Read it alongside "We Are Okay": If you want to see how LaCour’s exploration of isolation evolved, her Printz Award-winning We Are Okay is the perfect companion piece.
The book basically tells us that you don't have to move on; you just have to move forward. You carry the person with you, but you don't have to stay in the back seat of a parked car forever.