A Globusz Books discovery
Nina LaCour · English
Ever tried to ghost your entire life after a big loss? Marin did — and it’s as messy and heartbreaking as you’d expect. Nina LaCour’s We Are Okay isn’t your usual grief story; it’s about what happens when you try to disappear from pain, only to find it’s still there, waiting for you.
Globusz original summary
We Are Okay throws you into the chilly, lonely world of Marin, an 18-year-old who’s freshly arrived at college in New York but has shoved her past so far under the rug it feels like a different lifetime. After the sudden death of her grandfather, Marin cuts herself off from her old life in San Francisco, including her best friend Mabel. The story dances between Marin’s present — a frozen New York winter where she’s isolated in her dorm — and warm, bittersweet flashbacks to California, slowly unpacking the reasons behind her self-imposed exile.
Marin isn’t your typical YA protagonist running from a breakup or a bad grade. She’s wrestling with grief so heavy it’s almost a physical thing, and it’s tearing her apart from the inside. Her silence and withdrawal aren’t just teenage angst; they’re survival tactics, flawed but understandable. Mabel, on the other hand, is the persistent lifeline, refusing to let Marin vanish without a trace. Their strained relationship is the emotional backbone of the novel, showing how friendship can both fracture and heal.
LaCour’s writing style is lean and introspective, the kind that makes you slow down and actually feel the cold of New York or the warmth of Marin’s memories. The prose isn’t flashy or overdone — it’s quietly powerful, like a whispered confession you’re not supposed to hear but can’t look away from. The alternating timelines aren’t just a narrative trick; they mirror Marin’s fractured state of mind, caught between past and present, grief and denial.
At its core, We Are Okay is about what grief does to us when we try to pretend it’s not there. Marin’s isolation highlights the human instinct to retreat when overwhelmed, but the story also gently nudges the idea that healing, messy and slow as it is, often happens through connection. Friendship here isn’t some perfect, unbreakable bond; it’s complicated, sometimes painful, but ultimately necessary.
The novel also stands out for its sensitive portrayal of LGBTQ+ themes, woven naturally into Marin’s identity without turning it into a plot device. It’s just part of who she is, adding layers to her struggles and relationships without overshadowing the universal themes of loss and loneliness.
But don’t expect a tidy resolution or a feel-good ending. LaCour respects the messiness of real life, where grief doesn’t wrap up neatly and people don’t always say the right things. The pacing is deliberate, which might feel slow if you’re used to plot-heavy YA, but it suits the contemplative mood.
We Are Okay is a quiet, intimate read for those who want to sit with grief rather than run from it. It’s not about grand gestures or dramatic confrontations but about the small, painful steps toward facing what we’ve lost and maybe, just maybe, finding a way back to the people we left behind.
Beyond the summary
We Are Okay isn’t about neat fixes or inspirational speeches. It’s about the stubborn, awkward, sometimes lonely process of facing loss and reaching out when you’d rather pull away. If you’re ready to sit with that kind of quiet, flawed humanity, this book’s got your back.
Before you commit
Ever tried to ghost your entire life after a big loss? Marin did — and it’s as messy and heartbreaking as you’d expect. Nina LaCour’s We Are Okay isn’t your usual grief story; it’s about what happens when you try to disappear from pain, only to find it’s still there, waiting for you.
The novel explores the raw, unfiltered experience of mourning, showing how it disrupts life and forces painful self-reflection.
Marin’s withdrawal highlights how people often respond to trauma by cutting themselves off, even when they crave connection.
The story underscores that healing is rarely solitary and that friendship, with all its flaws, can be a lifeline.
Marin’s LGBTQ+ identity is part of her journey toward understanding herself amid grief and change.
Past experiences and memories shape the present, influencing how Marin copes and who she is becoming.
Marin’s journey shows that grief isn’t about ‘getting over it’ but about living with the pain, sometimes hiding from it, sometimes confronting it. The novel refuses to sugarcoat that process.
Marin’s self-imposed exile is both a shield and a cage. It highlights how withdrawing from others might feel like protection but often deepens loneliness and stalls healing.
Mabel’s persistence and Marin’s resistance reveal that friends aren’t flawless saviors. They can hurt, misunderstand, and frustrate us — but they’re often the ones who pull us through.
Marin’s LGBTQ+ identity is part of her fabric, integrated naturally. The story doesn’t make it a dramatic ‘issue’ but a lived experience, enriching her character without overshadowing the core themes.
The back-and-forth between past and present isn’t just storytelling flair. It reflects how memories haunt, comfort, and sometimes distort our current reality.
If you or someone you know is pulling away after a loss, remember it might be a way to cope, not just avoidance. Recognizing this can open the door to gentle reconnection.
Friendship helps, but it’s messy and imperfect. Allow space for misunderstandings and uneven support — that’s normal and okay.
Where we come from and what we remember can deeply affect how we process loss and identity. Reflecting on your own memories might reveal hidden feelings.
Healing isn’t a race or a dramatic breakthrough. Sometimes it’s about small, almost invisible steps forward — and that’s still progress.
There’s no timeline for ‘being okay.’ It’s a fluctuating state, and that’s part of being human.
We Are Okay isn’t about neat fixes or inspirational speeches. It’s about the stubborn, awkward, sometimes lonely process of facing loss and reaching out when you’d rather pull away. If you’re ready to sit with that kind of quiet, flawed humanity, this book’s got your back.
Where to go next
These recommendations serve different purposes: stay with the author, follow the closest idea, find an easier entry, go deeper, or deliberately change perspective.
Strong overlap in themes, life-impact signals, mood, or the questions the books raise.
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Ever felt like you’re stuck between who you are and who everyone expects you to be? Meet Vanyel—a noble heir who’d rather strum a lute than swing a sword, and who’s got magic coursing through his veins whether he wants it or not. If you think fantasy is all about dragons and dungeons, think again—this one’s about the messy, painful, and sometimes beautiful business of being yourself.Read this summary →Continue the journey
This summary can’t capture the subtle emotional currents that Nina LaCour weaves through Marin’s story — the way a single sentence can feel like a breath held or released. The full book invites you to live inside grief’s awkward silences and fragile moments of connection, which don’t translate well into mere description. It’s also a rare YA novel that treats LGBTQ+ identity as part of a bigger, beautifully complicated human experience, not a checkbox or plot twist. Reading the whole thing means immersing yourself in that slow, painful, and ultimately hopeful process of healing — something no summary can replicate.