I Want To Go Home But I'm Already There by Róisín Lanigan is a claustrophobic, unsettling read that draws you in.

Huge thank you to NetGalley and Penguin for the ARC!

Seeing the world through (MC) Áine’s eyes feels like returning to pick at a wound before it has had time to heal.

Lanigan’s purposefully drab yet enticing writing style melts you down and pours you into Áine’s world. A thick sort of comfort blanketed me progressively throughout the book, and I found myself feeling equally frustrated and kindred with Áine.

With witty commentary on the state of the rental market and the general economy, the vast majority of readers will undoubtedly hear their own thoughts echoed within the narrative.

All in all, the novel feels like a mucky sort of hug and an ode to young people who feel tossed about by both their environments and their emotions. A promising debut from an exciting new voice in the literary landscape.

I really enjoyed this! Perfect read for January when I’m looking for something a little dark and creepy. Lots of relatable elements to the main character, and being a person in your 20s trying to make sense of things. Super interesting concept trying haunting to the rented flat itself, and also very astute in some of its conversations surrounding friendships, relationships, work etc. Definitely feel like this would be popular with the Sally Rooney girlies!

I really wanted to love this book. The author is a wonderful writer, her style instantly engaging, the voice all too real and the scene setting and character build up is pitch perfect. Unfortunately I felt the novel lost its way in the second half and needed a more structure plot to sustain the reader. I would read more by this author though

Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for this ARC!

An elegy to the world where we actually had ownership of spaces and an actual sense of place, this book is a beautiful, agonising swan song of a complete lack of belonging and the agony of having to live a life in patches without a permanent place. I really enjoyed the writing style that this book engages with - it is almost dreamlike, taking time for descriptions and characterisation, but also feeling like it walks a tightrope between reality and fiction. It's really beautiful, and really eerie, and it pulls the reader into a world that feels as maudlin as the writing makes it seem.

Áine is a flawed main character, living with her flawed boyfriend, Elliot, in a world that is unkind to the general concept of mental illness and the feelings that are summoned by not being able to call a place your own. This book summoned bile in my throat at times at the descriptions and the way that the rental market and experience is described. It is a feeling that I have experienced, and I never wish to again - the constant knowledge that everything you do could be questioned. And the commentary on the black mould and the tips to clear it away! Hilariously relatable in the worst possible way.

I did find that the 'ghost' component was perhaps less done than it could have been, and while the reveal was interesting, it was not quite what I had hoped for. In a way, it maybe would have been a little more poignant to remove the ghost element altogether, but I understand that it's a rationalisation for something that is beyond belief. This book is beautifully written, really well thought out, and while it could have gone a little bit deeper into some of those corners, it leaves a general sense of existential dread in the wake of reading.

I liked this more than I thought I would after the first chapter, and found myself getting more into it.

I understand that it's written in such a way that you don't really ever know what's real and what's not, but I felt like the supporting characters were so awful it made me mad lol. It's mentioned that Áine takes an unnamed 'prescription' (or doesn't, which is potentially the problem), so it's presumably known that there's something a bit off with her...so why are Elliott and Laura so angry at her and quick to cut her off? She clearly needs help/support?
If Áine is mentally unwell, why is noone helping her? If she isn't, why is noone taking her concerns seriously?

The smarmy letting agent/crap living conditions/friends growing up and distancing themselves/nameless landlord/mysterious neighbours/a vague feeling of ennui and misery are all incredibly relatable. I'm sure I read that this was meant to be scary but I'd say it's more just a general uncomfortableness?

A part that I didn't like so much is the author reusing such specific words? Like I've never heard the word 'simulacrum' or 'gombeen' in my life but this short book used them more than once. Same with the word 'demonstrably', though I had heard that before lol. And there was one paragraph where she used 'detritus of life' twice. Not a huge issue but as it's not a long book, it's more noticeable?

Overall really enjoyed it! Thank you to Netgalley et al for letting me read it :)

Not really a ghost story as marketed, this is a bit more subtle than that. Lanigan really gets to the heart of the rental market in London, there's a great cynicism around letting agents and anonymous landlords. The most disturbing part is the feeling of being trapped when you want to leave because of the rental system, so in contrast to what we're told is the benefit of renting! This isn't even portrayed as a lease issue, but a financial one, which hits harder. Everyone is awful here, except Elliot, who's inoffensiveness is so extreme it becomes offensive by the end of the novel. A couple of elements could have been handled better, the banshee exposition doesn't connect with the main novel as smoothly as I think the author intended, and the mental health shoe-horn was weak. Overall I enjoyed it very much.

This is one of those books one will either love or hate - nothing in between. It's extremely densely written, essentially a non-stop sequence of descriptive details about almost everything from renting a flat to living as a couple on a daily basis, the entire plot revolving around a very stressed and introspective female character - a rather annoying woman, if one does not approach her story with (lots and lots of) patience and eschew judgement. The writing is consistently and (almost certainly) intentionally flat: Lanigan's storytelling skills, though impressive, are directed towards draining the story out of all emotional upheavals or strong feelings: even when the couple gets bitten by the dog they brought home, noone is allowed to feel upset - not even the reader; when the couple fight, the background calm and quiet are never disturbed. In fact, the only sounds permitted to affect the story are the ones belonging to the supposed haunting.

The claustrophobic silence, weirdly, does not strengthen the sense of anyone's feeling haunted: on the contrary, it slowly drowns everything in ambiguity, uncertainty and a deep sadness.

The poor woman finds herself feeling attacked on all fronts, yet she never really responds to the assumed crisis: she goes on repeating the same thoughts and the same moves day in day out, eroding both her relationship and friendships. Several times I felt tired out by this behavior: it just never clicked for me, it never made sense to me, but I kept going seduced by the deceptivelt easy and bland writing style, and the promise of a haunting; the latter never really materialized, but Lanigan's excellent writing did manage to hold my interest to the end.

I recommend the book to readers who can appreciate a film like Polanski's Repulsion (1965): Lanigan's characters are banned from both genuine feeling and complete withdrawal, and perhaps this is their kind of madness. The book, the way I read it, very effectively brings out precisely this - to the detriment, apparently, of many readers.

I'm not sure if I should be concerned about how relatable I found this book. This is such a unique, well delivered read, and I would highly recommend it. The characters and their relationships are built so skillfully and you are engrossed from the beginning.

Àine is in need of a new home after her flatmate and best friend leaves to renovate a canal boat (complete with Instagram commentary). Àine and her boyfriend move in together, but the flat they find isn't all she hoped for. Mould that blossoms across walls and doors, a creepy basement, tangled back garden, and a sinister neighbour.
Things start to spiral downwards, but is it the house, or is it Àine?

The book is a sharp, well-observed narrative that captures 21st-century life with precision and wit. This is an intense and at times trippy story that'll drag you in.
This is a timely commentary on the housing crisis and the uneviable position renters can find themselves in.
A superb debut and can't wait to see what Roisin writes next.

I'm so sorry but this is a DNF for me. I bearly get to 50%, almost died out of boredom.
Reading to the half way point, I got the good impression that this would be a total flop for me. Firstly, there is nothing horror about it, it's wrongly labeled as a horror novel. The first "creepy" scene was so badly written I had to read it three times just to get what was happening and it actually didn't make any sense when I tried to picture it. It's just a contemporary novel about a very unlikable and annoying woman, who doesn't know what she wants. Nothing happens, nothing is intriguing, nothing is worth your time. Her relationship is so bland, she doesn't even like her boyfriend, she is mean and angry for no reason. And don't get me started with her relationship with the best friend, they fight and lie over a vase, a VASE. Could this be more immature? I'm so sorry to drag this book down but it's just not for me. I had to stop or I would be even angrier. If you like basic everyday life narratives, this could be a good read for you.
Thank you to NetGalley and the publisher for providing me with the ARC.

This was an interesting read. While I initially thought it was a horror, it turned out to be more lit fic and less horror. Still, Áine has just moved into a new flat with her boyfriend but things are amiss. She’s hearing noises and seeing things and slowly becoming less and less of the person she was before.

While this book provided very relevant commentary on rentals and the nightmares of current housing, most of it felt like a drag to read. I didn’t like Áine, nor did I like her relationship or friendships. She was self destructive for no good reason and a lot of her actions didn’t make sense to me. This was quite a sad read and I almost wanted it to be over sooner. That being said, I have to say the writing was excellent and kept me interested, despite my lack of enthusiasm for the characters and plot. A mixed bag.