What do you think?
Rate this book
Hold On: A young woman's journey through love, ambition and sacrifice
What if the opposite of ‘moving on’… is finally healing?
In a society that demands silence, one Pakistani girl dares to feel, speak, and break free.
Hira Gul has always lived on the edges—bright, observant, and quietly burdened by the expectations placed on girls who are told to shrink themselves to survive. In a home where love comes with conditions and silence is a form of safety, she learns early how to disappear. But everything begins to shift when she starts university in Peshawar, where the thrill of independence, the promise of love, and intellectual freedom begin to crack her shell.
What follows is not a single transformation, but a long, uneven journey across cities and selves—from the stifling warmth of home in Chamkani, Peshawar, to a solitary apartment in downtown Islamabad.
Along the way, Hira navigates difficult friendships, subtle betrayals, familial responsibilities, and the kind of love that feels safe until it doesn’t. Through it all, she is forced to ask what it means to to a place, to a person, and most of all, to herself.
Will she retreat into silence, or carve out a voice strong enough to carry her forward?
Hold On is a powerful piece of South Asian women’s fiction, perfect for fans of A Thousand Splendid Suns and A Good Indian Girl. With themes of abuse, class divisions, and emotional healing, this coming-of-age novel will resonate with anyone seeking to read stories about women’s empowerment, as they break stereotypes and redefine their own worth.
A soul-stirring Pakistani literary fiction about holding on when the world tells you to let go.
Click BUY NOW to begin an unforgettable journey of inner strength, emotional truth, and finding your voice.
In a society that demands silence, one Pakistani girl dares to feel, speak, and break free.
Hira Gul has always lived on the edges—bright, observant, and quietly burdened by the expectations placed on girls who are told to shrink themselves to survive. In a home where love comes with conditions and silence is a form of safety, she learns early how to disappear. But everything begins to shift when she starts university in Peshawar, where the thrill of independence, the promise of love, and intellectual freedom begin to crack her shell.
What follows is not a single transformation, but a long, uneven journey across cities and selves—from the stifling warmth of home in Chamkani, Peshawar, to a solitary apartment in downtown Islamabad.
Along the way, Hira navigates difficult friendships, subtle betrayals, familial responsibilities, and the kind of love that feels safe until it doesn’t. Through it all, she is forced to ask what it means to to a place, to a person, and most of all, to herself.
Will she retreat into silence, or carve out a voice strong enough to carry her forward?
Hold On is a powerful piece of South Asian women’s fiction, perfect for fans of A Thousand Splendid Suns and A Good Indian Girl. With themes of abuse, class divisions, and emotional healing, this coming-of-age novel will resonate with anyone seeking to read stories about women’s empowerment, as they break stereotypes and redefine their own worth.
A soul-stirring Pakistani literary fiction about holding on when the world tells you to let go.
Click BUY NOW to begin an unforgettable journey of inner strength, emotional truth, and finding your voice.
368 pages, Kindle Edition
Published June 30, 2025
About the author
Naveed Iftikhar
1 book13 followersNaveed Iftikhar grew up in rural Punjab in a large family. Despite many odds, he pursued his education from the University of Punjab and then later earned a doctorate from the University of Delaware. He has taught at the Lahore University of Management Sciences (LUMS), the Karachi School of Business and Leadership (KSBL), and several other leading universities. Professionally, he is an urban economist and entrepreneur whose work spans across Pakistan and beyond.
His academic writings are consistently inspired by the lived realities of the average Pakistani, including the complexities of class and social mobility, the constraints of patriarchy, and deeply rooted codes of honor. This novel is born out of his personal experiences of growing up in a society that disregards emotional struggles and stigmatizes those who challenge societal norms. He writes with particular sensitivity to the challenges faced by women in homes, educational institutions, and the public sphere.
When he’s not writing or working, Naveed enjoys reading, hiking, traveling, and developing community connections. He resides in Islamabad with his wife and children.
His academic writings are consistently inspired by the lived realities of the average Pakistani, including the complexities of class and social mobility, the constraints of patriarchy, and deeply rooted codes of honor. This novel is born out of his personal experiences of growing up in a society that disregards emotional struggles and stigmatizes those who challenge societal norms. He writes with particular sensitivity to the challenges faced by women in homes, educational institutions, and the public sphere.
When he’s not writing or working, Naveed enjoys reading, hiking, traveling, and developing community connections. He resides in Islamabad with his wife and children.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews
September 2, 2025
I was not sure what to expect when I first started reading this book, but what I found was a story that completely swept me off my feet. It is rare for me to come across a book where every single character feels alive on the page, and where the author refuses to take shortcuts with human complexity. This book is one of those.
The character development is stunning. The people in this story are layered, multi-dimensional, and written with extreme care. The author has not only focused on the protagonist, Hira, but has also given depth and nuance to the side characters and those who might, in a lesser novel, fade into the background. Everyone in this book has their own motives, flaws, and contradictions, and it is this attention to detail that makes the narrative so compelling. Nothing is painted in black or white. Just like in life, the characters here live in the grey areas.
Hira is at the heart of the novel and she is someone I grew deeply attached to. She makes mistakes and her decisions are not always ones I agree with. Sometimes I found myself questioning her judgment, even feeling frustrated by her choices. And yet, that is exactly what makes her feel so real. She is only human. I found myself rooting for her all the same and at all times, precisely because she is flawed, vulnerable, and authentic. Watching her evolve and stumble while still carrying the strength to move forward was one of the most rewarding aspects of the novel.
But the brilliance of the book is that the other characters never fade into the background. Ahmad, for example, has shortcomings that are clear, yet I found myself relating to him as well. I could understand the pressures and dilemmas of his situation. Sarmad, on the other hand, carries the weight of feeling imposed upon, and his perspective too is written with sensitivity. I could see where he was coming from even when I did not agree with him. The author allows us to inhabit the inner world of each character, so that you feel empathy and understanding, even when their actions clash with your sense of what is right. This balance is very difficult to achieve in fiction, but it is done here with such finesse that it feels effortless.
At its core, this is a coming-of-age novel, which in itself is an ambitious choice. Coming-of-age stories are notoriously difficult to pull off because they require the author to write convincingly about a character as both a child and a young adult. Many writers struggle to capture that shift, but Naveed Iftikhar succeeds beautifully. When Hira is a child, being bullied and holding on to her innocent convictions about her family, I felt such strong sympathy for her. I wanted to protect her, to shield her from the cruelty around her. Later, when the novel shifts to the turbulence of young love and the demands and compromises of adulthood, I found myself equally captivated. The transitions never feel jarring. They feel natural, as if we truly are living alongside Hira as she grows up. It is often said that readers live many lives through books, and I felt that I lived an entire lifetime with Hira.
Another aspect of the book that resonated deeply with me was the familiarity of place. The descriptions of Lahore are written with such tenderness and detail that they pulled me into the city I know so well. When Sana walks through the streets of Old Lahore, stopping at bookstalls, I could immediately picture it because I have done that many times myself. The Mall Road, the gardens, the busy yet timeless streets all came alive in the pages. However, the writing is not bogged down by thick or heavy descriptions. Instead, the prose is lyrical but crisp, creating vivid images without slowing the pace of the story. The result is that the book is both a gripping drama and, in many ways, an ode to the beauty of Pakistan’s cities. As a reader, you feel transported not just into the lives of the characters, but into the places they inhabit.
Beyond character and setting, what truly sets this novel apart is its social commentary. It is rare to find a work of South Asian fiction that explores such important themes with honesty and depth. The book highlights how city layouts and structures shape people’s life trajectories, showing how urban environments influence personal decisions in ways we often overlook. It also tackles the issue of addiction, but not in a generic or clichéd way. Instead, it examines how addiction is confronted within the Pakistani context, where honor, social status, and wealth all define how struggles are handled and how families are affected.
The novel also does not shy away from the topic of mental health. It portrays the stigma surrounding it in Pakistan and how that stigma ripples outward, affecting not only individuals but entire families. It was moving and painful to see how silence and shame around mental health can destroy lives, but it was also important to see it addressed so directly. Similarly, the book looks at the crushing weight of honor placed on women. The way women’s lives are sacrificed or ruined in the name of honor is a recurring reality in South Asia, and this novel brings it into focus without sensationalizing it.
Another layer of the book is its attention to the political economy and the way the public sector functions in Pakistan. Rather than treating politics as a backdrop, the author shows how it directly shapes personal choices and fates. This is something that is rarely done with such clarity in fiction, and it added another dimension to the narrative. The lives of the characters are not lived in a vacuum. They are shaped by their cities, their institutions, their cultural expectations, and the social structures around them.
What impressed me most is that the book never feels didactic or heavy-handed in delivering this commentary. The issues are not tacked on for the sake of it but emerge naturally from the lives of the characters. You never feel like you are being lectured. Instead, you feel immersed in the reality of these people, and in that immersion, the themes shine through all the more powerfully.
This is a novel that stays with you long after you close its final page. It is immersive, empathetic, and unafraid to probe the complexities of human experience. For anyone who loves fiction that is both emotionally moving and socially insightful, this book is a must-read. It is the kind of novel that reminds you why you fell in love with reading in the first place.
The character development is stunning. The people in this story are layered, multi-dimensional, and written with extreme care. The author has not only focused on the protagonist, Hira, but has also given depth and nuance to the side characters and those who might, in a lesser novel, fade into the background. Everyone in this book has their own motives, flaws, and contradictions, and it is this attention to detail that makes the narrative so compelling. Nothing is painted in black or white. Just like in life, the characters here live in the grey areas.
Hira is at the heart of the novel and she is someone I grew deeply attached to. She makes mistakes and her decisions are not always ones I agree with. Sometimes I found myself questioning her judgment, even feeling frustrated by her choices. And yet, that is exactly what makes her feel so real. She is only human. I found myself rooting for her all the same and at all times, precisely because she is flawed, vulnerable, and authentic. Watching her evolve and stumble while still carrying the strength to move forward was one of the most rewarding aspects of the novel.
But the brilliance of the book is that the other characters never fade into the background. Ahmad, for example, has shortcomings that are clear, yet I found myself relating to him as well. I could understand the pressures and dilemmas of his situation. Sarmad, on the other hand, carries the weight of feeling imposed upon, and his perspective too is written with sensitivity. I could see where he was coming from even when I did not agree with him. The author allows us to inhabit the inner world of each character, so that you feel empathy and understanding, even when their actions clash with your sense of what is right. This balance is very difficult to achieve in fiction, but it is done here with such finesse that it feels effortless.
At its core, this is a coming-of-age novel, which in itself is an ambitious choice. Coming-of-age stories are notoriously difficult to pull off because they require the author to write convincingly about a character as both a child and a young adult. Many writers struggle to capture that shift, but Naveed Iftikhar succeeds beautifully. When Hira is a child, being bullied and holding on to her innocent convictions about her family, I felt such strong sympathy for her. I wanted to protect her, to shield her from the cruelty around her. Later, when the novel shifts to the turbulence of young love and the demands and compromises of adulthood, I found myself equally captivated. The transitions never feel jarring. They feel natural, as if we truly are living alongside Hira as she grows up. It is often said that readers live many lives through books, and I felt that I lived an entire lifetime with Hira.
Another aspect of the book that resonated deeply with me was the familiarity of place. The descriptions of Lahore are written with such tenderness and detail that they pulled me into the city I know so well. When Sana walks through the streets of Old Lahore, stopping at bookstalls, I could immediately picture it because I have done that many times myself. The Mall Road, the gardens, the busy yet timeless streets all came alive in the pages. However, the writing is not bogged down by thick or heavy descriptions. Instead, the prose is lyrical but crisp, creating vivid images without slowing the pace of the story. The result is that the book is both a gripping drama and, in many ways, an ode to the beauty of Pakistan’s cities. As a reader, you feel transported not just into the lives of the characters, but into the places they inhabit.
Beyond character and setting, what truly sets this novel apart is its social commentary. It is rare to find a work of South Asian fiction that explores such important themes with honesty and depth. The book highlights how city layouts and structures shape people’s life trajectories, showing how urban environments influence personal decisions in ways we often overlook. It also tackles the issue of addiction, but not in a generic or clichéd way. Instead, it examines how addiction is confronted within the Pakistani context, where honor, social status, and wealth all define how struggles are handled and how families are affected.
The novel also does not shy away from the topic of mental health. It portrays the stigma surrounding it in Pakistan and how that stigma ripples outward, affecting not only individuals but entire families. It was moving and painful to see how silence and shame around mental health can destroy lives, but it was also important to see it addressed so directly. Similarly, the book looks at the crushing weight of honor placed on women. The way women’s lives are sacrificed or ruined in the name of honor is a recurring reality in South Asia, and this novel brings it into focus without sensationalizing it.
Another layer of the book is its attention to the political economy and the way the public sector functions in Pakistan. Rather than treating politics as a backdrop, the author shows how it directly shapes personal choices and fates. This is something that is rarely done with such clarity in fiction, and it added another dimension to the narrative. The lives of the characters are not lived in a vacuum. They are shaped by their cities, their institutions, their cultural expectations, and the social structures around them.
What impressed me most is that the book never feels didactic or heavy-handed in delivering this commentary. The issues are not tacked on for the sake of it but emerge naturally from the lives of the characters. You never feel like you are being lectured. Instead, you feel immersed in the reality of these people, and in that immersion, the themes shine through all the more powerfully.
This is a novel that stays with you long after you close its final page. It is immersive, empathetic, and unafraid to probe the complexities of human experience. For anyone who loves fiction that is both emotionally moving and socially insightful, this book is a must-read. It is the kind of novel that reminds you why you fell in love with reading in the first place.
August 12, 2025
I stumbled upon Hold On by Dr. Naveed Iftikhar on Medium sometime in 2024, completely by chance.
As someone who reads voraciously, I’m always searching for tender, human stories rooted in South Asian culture—stories that feel close to the skin, relatable yet rare. The kind that linger.
When I read the chapters that were shared online, I knew I wanted more. And now that the novel is complete, I can’t help but share what it stirred in me.
Being a woman born into South Asian culture, Hira’s journey didn’t just feel familiar—it felt personal.
Her story carried the echoes of countless women I’ve known, and the unspoken truths they’ve held for years.
What moved me most was how deeply and delicately she was written, especially by a male author. It’s rare to see an ordinary Pakistani girl portrayed with such raw honesty, without romanticizing or reducing her.
Through Hira, I was reminded that no life is “ordinary.” Beneath every seemingly simple existence are layers of strength, emotion, and untold history.
Hira’s beginnings were humble, but her spirit was restless. She dreamt of more, of a life different from the one mapped out for her. And slowly, with grit and grace, she built it.
She learned from her mother and sister’s lives and dared to choose differently.
Along the way, she was never truly alone. Her father, who dreamed for her when it wasn’t easy, her friends Ahmad and Sadia, and a teacher who saw her potential each left a lasting, steady imprint on her.
It reminded me of something I believe deeply: people enter our lives for a reason. Some stay, some don’t, but all of them leave something behind.
Characters like Sarmad and Hira’s uncle embody the grey spaces of human choice, the ones we all live in.
And Hira’s instinct to save others, to stand beside people in their worst moments, seemed to bloom from her own early wounds, especially the emotional absence of her mother.
That detail was understated, yet profoundly affecting.
Hold On doesn’t flinch from hard truths: drug abuse, depression, and the suffocating stigma around mental health—issues that affect both the young and old but remain locked away in cultural shadows.
The novel brings them into the light, honestly and urgently, without losing its tenderness.
But at its heart, Hold On is about the ties we cling to: people, memories, the fragile moments and the seismic heartbreaks that shape us.
Even when people don’t stay, they leave marks on us—marks that, somehow, become part of our strength.
And maybe that’s the enduring promise of life: no matter what comes, we keep holding on. But we also keep moving.
As someone who reads voraciously, I’m always searching for tender, human stories rooted in South Asian culture—stories that feel close to the skin, relatable yet rare. The kind that linger.
When I read the chapters that were shared online, I knew I wanted more. And now that the novel is complete, I can’t help but share what it stirred in me.
Being a woman born into South Asian culture, Hira’s journey didn’t just feel familiar—it felt personal.
Her story carried the echoes of countless women I’ve known, and the unspoken truths they’ve held for years.
What moved me most was how deeply and delicately she was written, especially by a male author. It’s rare to see an ordinary Pakistani girl portrayed with such raw honesty, without romanticizing or reducing her.
Through Hira, I was reminded that no life is “ordinary.” Beneath every seemingly simple existence are layers of strength, emotion, and untold history.
Hira’s beginnings were humble, but her spirit was restless. She dreamt of more, of a life different from the one mapped out for her. And slowly, with grit and grace, she built it.
She learned from her mother and sister’s lives and dared to choose differently.
Along the way, she was never truly alone. Her father, who dreamed for her when it wasn’t easy, her friends Ahmad and Sadia, and a teacher who saw her potential each left a lasting, steady imprint on her.
It reminded me of something I believe deeply: people enter our lives for a reason. Some stay, some don’t, but all of them leave something behind.
Characters like Sarmad and Hira’s uncle embody the grey spaces of human choice, the ones we all live in.
And Hira’s instinct to save others, to stand beside people in their worst moments, seemed to bloom from her own early wounds, especially the emotional absence of her mother.
That detail was understated, yet profoundly affecting.
Hold On doesn’t flinch from hard truths: drug abuse, depression, and the suffocating stigma around mental health—issues that affect both the young and old but remain locked away in cultural shadows.
The novel brings them into the light, honestly and urgently, without losing its tenderness.
But at its heart, Hold On is about the ties we cling to: people, memories, the fragile moments and the seismic heartbreaks that shape us.
Even when people don’t stay, they leave marks on us—marks that, somehow, become part of our strength.
And maybe that’s the enduring promise of life: no matter what comes, we keep holding on. But we also keep moving.
August 14, 2025
Hold On is the story of an ordinary young girl, Hira, who moves out of her home in Peshawar to work and live in Islamabad. The story features how her relationships with friends, family and mentors change as the story evolves and as she emerges into someone unrecognizable to her past self.
A central theme of the book is a critique of our systems — our universities, our hospitals, the state of transport and housing in our cities, the sheer lack of public spaces. How we struggle with these broken systems is shown through the lens of a young woman living independently in Islamabad. Hira struggles to find a suitable place to live in the city. Once settled, we see her take regular strolls through F9 park on her way from work. With no prior connections in the city, she builds social capital through her workplace friendships and the guidance of her boss and his family.
Something I enjoyed about the novel is how deeply rooted it is in Pakistan. You see scenes from Pakistani homes and hear about small, intimate places in our cities that rarely show up in fiction. These settings make the everyday worries of the character feel very real because the world they live in is one we know.
I’d recommend picking it up if you’re drawn to these themes — or even if you’re not, because something in the story or its characters might still speak to you :)
A central theme of the book is a critique of our systems — our universities, our hospitals, the state of transport and housing in our cities, the sheer lack of public spaces. How we struggle with these broken systems is shown through the lens of a young woman living independently in Islamabad. Hira struggles to find a suitable place to live in the city. Once settled, we see her take regular strolls through F9 park on her way from work. With no prior connections in the city, she builds social capital through her workplace friendships and the guidance of her boss and his family.
Something I enjoyed about the novel is how deeply rooted it is in Pakistan. You see scenes from Pakistani homes and hear about small, intimate places in our cities that rarely show up in fiction. These settings make the everyday worries of the character feel very real because the world they live in is one we know.
I’d recommend picking it up if you’re drawn to these themes — or even if you’re not, because something in the story or its characters might still speak to you :)
August 15, 2025
Hold On is an important note for anyone who has carried the weight of struggles since childhood while trying to care for everyone except themselves. I had been eagerly awaiting for it, knowing how passionate Naveed Iftikhar was about bringing it to life. The author’s ability to delve into each character while never losing sight of the focus on Hira is truly commendable.
Beyond its story, the author highlights pressing social issues in Pakistan that are woven naturally into the story, making the reader reflect on the society we live in. At the same time, Hold On inspires hope by showing that with determination and genuine effort, remarkable achievements are possible. It underscores that even a young woman from an underprivileged background can rise above systemic barriers and contribute solutions to modern day challenges. Hira’s journey is not only a personal triumph but also a reminder of the potential within countless others who are too often overlooked.
Beyond its story, the author highlights pressing social issues in Pakistan that are woven naturally into the story, making the reader reflect on the society we live in. At the same time, Hold On inspires hope by showing that with determination and genuine effort, remarkable achievements are possible. It underscores that even a young woman from an underprivileged background can rise above systemic barriers and contribute solutions to modern day challenges. Hira’s journey is not only a personal triumph but also a reminder of the potential within countless others who are too often overlooked.
August 11, 2025
When I started reading it I couldnt stop. The empowering character development, the story unfolding chapter by chapter. Naveed Iftikhar has made this book captivating and moving. its a good read.
October 27, 2025
I liked reading a story about a woman from a completely different culture than mine. One of my favorite things about Goodreads giveaways is that it exposes you to books you wouldn’t normally read.
August 14, 2025
I opened Hold On with curiosity and finished it feeling profoundly moved. As a Pakistani reader, I saw my own quiet struggles mirrored in Hira Gul’s story of finding her voice, and I’m positive we all will. Naveed Iftikhar’s novel is both a deeply personal coming-of-age tale and a bold commentary on a generation’s search for meaning. It reminded me of Sylvia Plath’s The Bell Jar - not in style, just in the raw honesty of a young woman’s inner turmoil. Yet Hold On is unmistakably Pakistani in its soul, alive with the cultural nuances and unspoken tensions of its setting.
Hira grows up burdened by the expectation that girls should shrink themselves to survive. In her home, love comes with conditions and silence means safety - a reality many of us know too well. University life changes everything: newfound independence and intellectual freedom begin to crack Hira’s protective shell. What follows is a long, uneven journey across cities and identities. Naveed takes us from the stifling warmth of a conservative Peshawar household to the loneliness of an Islamabad apartment, showing how each friendship, betrayal, and setback shapes Hira’s evolving sense of self.
Hold On does not shy away from trauma and healing. There are moments of love that feel safe until they suddenly don’t - a chilling nod to how trust can shatter and leave lasting scars. Rather than simply “move on,” Hira learns to hold on to her truth and pain until she can transform them into strength. I couldn’t help but notice the stances resonation with Camus’s absurdism (perhaps because I have just read a couple of his books), where one meets life’s senseless trials with defiant perseverance. Anyways, in Hira’s quiet rebellion against patriarchy, we see a much-needed challenge to the notion that a woman’s worth is defined by society’s expectations.
What sets Hold On apart is its cultural and generational relevance. It speaks directly to young Pakistanis who grapple with the weight of tradition versus the longing for agency (Oh God, the relatability). The portrayal of class divisions and “cultural issues of honour” is painfully authentic and relevant to our cultural context. The author has explicitly aimed to create “accessible, relatable literature” for Pakistanis who rarely see themselves in fiction, and that authenticity shines through. At no point does the novel pander to Western clichés; instead, it remains truthful to the lived experiences of ordinary Pakistanis.
By the end, I felt a surge of hope. In a society that often demands its youth to mute their dreams, Hold On insists that finding one’s voice is the first step toward change. It challenges readers to reflect on their own willingness to defy unjust norms and embrace what truly matters. One early reader called this book “worth reading” - I wholeheartedly agree. Hold On left me with that urge to introspect and speak up. This soul-stirring debut dares a new generation to find their voice and may well inspire young writers and cultural critics in Pakistan to do the same.
Hira grows up burdened by the expectation that girls should shrink themselves to survive. In her home, love comes with conditions and silence means safety - a reality many of us know too well. University life changes everything: newfound independence and intellectual freedom begin to crack Hira’s protective shell. What follows is a long, uneven journey across cities and identities. Naveed takes us from the stifling warmth of a conservative Peshawar household to the loneliness of an Islamabad apartment, showing how each friendship, betrayal, and setback shapes Hira’s evolving sense of self.
Hold On does not shy away from trauma and healing. There are moments of love that feel safe until they suddenly don’t - a chilling nod to how trust can shatter and leave lasting scars. Rather than simply “move on,” Hira learns to hold on to her truth and pain until she can transform them into strength. I couldn’t help but notice the stances resonation with Camus’s absurdism (perhaps because I have just read a couple of his books), where one meets life’s senseless trials with defiant perseverance. Anyways, in Hira’s quiet rebellion against patriarchy, we see a much-needed challenge to the notion that a woman’s worth is defined by society’s expectations.
What sets Hold On apart is its cultural and generational relevance. It speaks directly to young Pakistanis who grapple with the weight of tradition versus the longing for agency (Oh God, the relatability). The portrayal of class divisions and “cultural issues of honour” is painfully authentic and relevant to our cultural context. The author has explicitly aimed to create “accessible, relatable literature” for Pakistanis who rarely see themselves in fiction, and that authenticity shines through. At no point does the novel pander to Western clichés; instead, it remains truthful to the lived experiences of ordinary Pakistanis.
By the end, I felt a surge of hope. In a society that often demands its youth to mute their dreams, Hold On insists that finding one’s voice is the first step toward change. It challenges readers to reflect on their own willingness to defy unjust norms and embrace what truly matters. One early reader called this book “worth reading” - I wholeheartedly agree. Hold On left me with that urge to introspect and speak up. This soul-stirring debut dares a new generation to find their voice and may well inspire young writers and cultural critics in Pakistan to do the same.
August 18, 2025
I was one of the few people who got to read the manuscript of Hold On before it was published, and I can honestly say it stayed with me long after I finished it. I started reading and just couldn’t stop until I reached the last page , and even then, I felt like I was left hanging wanting more.
As a girl living in Pakistan, the story hit me on so many levels. Hira’s journey is not just her own , it feels like the story of so many women around us who struggle with expectations, heartbreak, and the pressure of carrying family responsibilities while trying to find their own path. The emotions in this book are so raw and real , the guilt, the love, the heartbreak, and that difficult process of moving on. There were moments where I felt I was reading about my own life or the life of someone I know.
What really stood out to me was how Naveed highlighted the social issues that quietly exist in so many of our homes but are rarely spoken about. Hira’s mother’s mental health struggles, for example, are something we don’t often see portrayed with honesty in our literature. It made me reflect on how mental health is still brushed under the carpet in our society, and how the silence around it affects entire families. The novel also doesn’t shy away from showing the everyday challenges around us , family conflicts, unspoken expectations, and the way society can sometimes suffocate dreams, especially for women.
Reading Hold On was emotional for me. It reminded me of the heartbreaks we all go through at some point, the pain of letting go, and the strength it takes to move forward when your heart feels heavy. But at the same time, it gave me a sense of resilience , that even in the hardest moments, there is always hope if we choose to hold on.
Naveed has managed to capture emotions that are deeply personal yet universal, which is why the book feels so relatable.
For me, Hold On wasn’t just a novel I read , it was an experience that made me pause, reflect, and even feel understood in some way. It’s the kind of story that makes you cry, makes you think, and then quietly pushes you to be stronger.
I feel grateful I got to read it early, and I truly believe anyone who picks it up will find a piece of themselves in it too.
As a girl living in Pakistan, the story hit me on so many levels. Hira’s journey is not just her own , it feels like the story of so many women around us who struggle with expectations, heartbreak, and the pressure of carrying family responsibilities while trying to find their own path. The emotions in this book are so raw and real , the guilt, the love, the heartbreak, and that difficult process of moving on. There were moments where I felt I was reading about my own life or the life of someone I know.
What really stood out to me was how Naveed highlighted the social issues that quietly exist in so many of our homes but are rarely spoken about. Hira’s mother’s mental health struggles, for example, are something we don’t often see portrayed with honesty in our literature. It made me reflect on how mental health is still brushed under the carpet in our society, and how the silence around it affects entire families. The novel also doesn’t shy away from showing the everyday challenges around us , family conflicts, unspoken expectations, and the way society can sometimes suffocate dreams, especially for women.
Reading Hold On was emotional for me. It reminded me of the heartbreaks we all go through at some point, the pain of letting go, and the strength it takes to move forward when your heart feels heavy. But at the same time, it gave me a sense of resilience , that even in the hardest moments, there is always hope if we choose to hold on.
Naveed has managed to capture emotions that are deeply personal yet universal, which is why the book feels so relatable.
For me, Hold On wasn’t just a novel I read , it was an experience that made me pause, reflect, and even feel understood in some way. It’s the kind of story that makes you cry, makes you think, and then quietly pushes you to be stronger.
I feel grateful I got to read it early, and I truly believe anyone who picks it up will find a piece of themselves in it too.
August 21, 2025
This novel holds a very special place in my heart as it beautifully navigates through the life of a Pakistani woman, her childhood, her dreams, her challenges, and her relationship with those around her. I am sure every woman can relate in some way to some part of the story. The way the author has explained various places in different cities like Lahore, Peshawar, and Islamabad simply gives me a nostalgic feeling taking me back to most of the places I've already been. Dr. Naveed describes the societal pressures a young woman faces exceptionally well and also pinpoints the shortcomings of the education system we are all bound to attend. What touched me most was how he has highlighted the importance of taking care of one's mental health, reminding us that holding on to our emotions eventually becomes our greatest strength.
Once you start reading this book, it's nearly impossible to put it down until you reach the end.
Once you start reading this book, it's nearly impossible to put it down until you reach the end.
August 24, 2025
I’ve read many stories in my life, and in many of them, I’ve found a sense of home. Stories have always been a driving force for me. But very rarely do you come across one that feels so deeply rooted in the local context.
Hira’s story felt truly ours; it struck home. The way it captured girls stepping into university life for the first time, experiencing freedom, and navigating the journey of right and wrong, losing and finding yourself again, it all felt so real. The in-between moments, when you get carried away, and the lessons of who stays with you and who doesn’t, are the truths so many of us live.
I especially loved how it highlighted the role fathers play in a woman’s life, alongside the many other men who come and go through her journey.
It promised a tale of friendship, love, and ambition, and it delivered beautifully.
A heartfelt and well-constructed story of a Pakistani girl.
Hira’s story felt truly ours; it struck home. The way it captured girls stepping into university life for the first time, experiencing freedom, and navigating the journey of right and wrong, losing and finding yourself again, it all felt so real. The in-between moments, when you get carried away, and the lessons of who stays with you and who doesn’t, are the truths so many of us live.
I especially loved how it highlighted the role fathers play in a woman’s life, alongside the many other men who come and go through her journey.
It promised a tale of friendship, love, and ambition, and it delivered beautifully.
A heartfelt and well-constructed story of a Pakistani girl.
August 10, 2025
Reading Hold On felt like reading the story of the society around me. I’m grateful it’s not my own personal story, but I’ve seen these norms and mindsets everywhere
marriage put above education, mothers worrying about appearances more than dreams, abuse being treated as “normal.” Naveed Iftikhar has captured it so well that it makes you stop and think.
What really stayed with me was Hira’s sister, Shafaq
she had faced abuse and hardship herself, yet still became a quiet pillar for Hira when it mattered most. It’s a reminder of how one person’s support can change everything. This book shows why standing up against toxic norms and valuing education can transform not just a person, but the world around them.
I’m curious what do you hope readers will carry with them after finishing Hold On?
marriage put above education, mothers worrying about appearances more than dreams, abuse being treated as “normal.” Naveed Iftikhar has captured it so well that it makes you stop and think.
What really stayed with me was Hira’s sister, Shafaq
she had faced abuse and hardship herself, yet still became a quiet pillar for Hira when it mattered most. It’s a reminder of how one person’s support can change everything. This book shows why standing up against toxic norms and valuing education can transform not just a person, but the world around them.
I’m curious what do you hope readers will carry with them after finishing Hold On?
July 10, 2025
Dr. Iftikhar's first fiction novel makes for a very interesting read. The contemporary themes and relatability makes it a grounded work and leaves the reader waiting for more. While exploring the interpersonal dimensions, he adequately sheds lights on societal perspectives ranging from modernity to coming of age.
August 11, 2025
I really loved the portrayal of characters in a simple yet powerful way. It is exciting to read complex emotions of a girl born and raised in a patriarchal society where getting basic education is a privilege not a right. But navigating this complex journey is interesting to read. A recommended book.
Displaying 1 - 13 of 13 reviews