Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for an advance copy of this book.

This is an interesting read but I didn't see much of the humour other reviewers saw. What I read was a disturbing story of a young woman experiencing a prolonged episode of mental illness. We know that Aine has a Prescription (her capital letter) for medicine she does not take and although it is not stated, I assume the medicine is for a mental illness (an illness as opposed to a mental health issue). It seems to me that many of the issues she had with the flat such as the overwhelming creep of mould and dirt, her fear of the cellar and the feelings of being spied on could be symptoms of her state of health.

I was surprised at how little Elliot (who seemed nice enough) was concerned by her descent into lack of self care, listlessness, loss of interest. There were hints of a past trauma, possibly in Ireland, but I don't think this was explained. Even the title about wanting to go home when the person is already in their home can be a mental illness symptom where "home" is not a place but a state of mind.

Aine is quite a likeable character and I thought that generally, the book was a good read with a satisfactory ending.

Possibly I have misinterpreted the book. I will say that the details of life in London in difficult living conditions make for grim reading. I have read one or two books lately where this has been part of the story and I cannot imagine why people who come from perfectly good places that are not London would want to subject themselves to such a poor standard of living..

This is a difficult book to review, but I think a good starting point is that I really liked it. I thought it was funny, I enjoyed the satirical takes on quite dark topics, the relatability and the writing style.

There was first the Unnamed Landlord, which felt like a ghost in itself. You never meet him, but he’s there sending daunting emails (well, getting someone else to send them on his behalf) and hanging the threat of the lease ending over their head which will bring an inevitable rent inflation. Alongside this. you have noisy upstairs neighbours, mold that cannot be rid of, and the understanding that the space you live in isn’t really yours. Because of this, it entails a sequence of moving from place to place. There is an exhaustion and melancholy that come with this, which I think was done so well. I could feel the dark cloud coming at me through the pages.

Which made me feel like this book was about depression: the depression of living in the current housing crisis, of late stage capitalism, of knowing you deserve a home but being unable to get one. Also, about the struggle of getting and maintaining genuine human connection throughout it all.

I’m excited to see what else this author writes in future!

First things first: hell yeah, more Áine representation!

Anyway. Roisín Lanigan's debut novel is excellent, but really hard to review! I've been mulling it over for a week or two now and I don't know how much closer I am to being able to articulate my feelings on it. It's a very quiet novel but no less powerful for it. It tells the story Áine and Elliot, who have just moved in together. She's living in a cute little neighbourhood for below-market rent, but suspects that her always-cold, increasingly-mouldy flat is, well, haunted. Áine - who works from home - gets in her head about it! As you would! But no-one around her believes that there is something sinister about their gross little flat.

As someone who has lived in a gross little flat, I ate this up. Lanigan describes the horrors of renting so well and pairing them with actual supernatural horrors is so clever! She also really captures how anxiety-inducing the process of renting is - taking the first place you're offered, not wanting to make a fuss for fear of losing your lease, accepting maybe-ghosts as "just part of renting" - and the toll takes on your mental health. And it does take a big toll on Áine's! This is a book about mental health and relationship breakdowns as much as it is a haunted house tale. It's giving existential dread! It's giving What Happens When You Move House And Go Off Your Meds Simultaneously! Lanigan weaves together the themes of mental illness, supernatural horror, and mundane horror so well that everything blurs; like Áine, the reader finds it nearly impossible to distinguish what's real from what's not. Lanigan's writing style adds to this so well; the tone of voice gives us a sense of numbness that makes us feel as apathetic as Áine does about the world around her.

It reminded me of Caroline O'Donoghue's Promising Young Women, Julia Armfield's Our Wivesa Under the Sea; novels where the horror is lurking just around the corner, moving around at the corner of your eye. I think I would have loved the horror to have been dialled up a little bit - the scary parts of this novel are genuinely unsettling - but it's still a really strong, compelling read that I'd recommend to anyone who has gone through the nightmarish process of renting.

There were so many moments in this book that felt so relatable to me, it had so many funny moments and real moments that truly showed the horrors of life.

“Renting is a nightmare…” - the publishers copy goes “I Want to Go Home But I’m Already There is a ghost story set in the rental crisis. A wonderfully clear-eyed portrait of loneliness, loss and belonging, it examines what it means to feel at home.”

The story follows young couple Elliot and Áine, who have just moved into a seemingly ideal shared rental flat—a millennial dream with ample space, an overgrown garden, and even a cellar. However, as their twelve-month lease unfolds, they face growing issues like mould, dampness, and cracks, mirroring the fractures in their relationship.

Lanigan presents an interesting thought-provoking portrayal of modern life haunted by the anxieties of renting. I truly relate to the frustrations of extortionate rental prices, dilapidated properties, troublesome neighbours, and difficult landlords, all of which drew me to the novel, this is such a contemporary theme - I was ready for it. However, I found it rather lacking in traditional horror elements, as the story fails to evoke strong feelings of fear or dread despite its unsettling themes, at times it felt a little repetitive.

The essence of horror here leans more toward existential dread, reflecting Sartre's assertion that "hell is other people." or your ‘overthinking mind’? Áine constantly compares herself to her ex-flatmate Laura, battling her insecurities even though her life appears stable with a flexible job and a supportive boyfriend. Nothing satisfies her: the neighbours are odd, the apartment is cold, the commute is lengthy, and the garden feels insurmountable.

Áine's struggle to create a sense of home illustrates the effort required in relationships; fulfilment doesn’t come automatically. While Elliot observes the unraveling of their situation, the horror largely resides in Áine's pessimistic perspective, which pushes her further into isolation. This leads to her mental decline, even as those around her encourage her to regain control. As a reader, I yearned for a more tangible manifestation of that horror on the page, there was so much potential for it!

I genuinely wanted to love this novel; Lanigan’s prose is engaging and skilfully crafted. However, I found myself wishing for a deeper exploration of authentic horror elements to amplify its emotional impact.

Many thanks Penguin and Fig Tree for the arc

“Had never been a hangover in the first place, but instead some sort of psychotic break or perhaps carbon monoxide poisoning or demonic possession.”

I was so excited for this book and I think we can all relate to the housing crisis and the precarious housing predicaments we find ourselves in. This is a tale of that desperation, living in 12 month intervals, that sacrifice and that tip-toeing we do around each other in the early stages of a relationship. We hear about the mould that becomes the all encompassing third character, forgotten pills and an ominous coat.

The reader is left on tenterhooks wondering what will survive for Áine and Elliot. Their security deposit, their relationship or their mental health?

I Want to Go Home, But I’m Already There is out next week on 20th March. I want to thank NetGalley and Penguin Books for this early release copy. It felt in many ways too close to home for my rental experience with an ominous character living below us, that awoke PTSD, that I thought I had buried deep deep down, so fair play to Roisin Lanigan for hitting it on the nail.

The following review is posted on my book review page:

Genres: Contemporary/ Literary Fiction / Modern Psychological Horror.

Themes: Housing Crisis, Relationships, Friendships, Mental Health, and Isolation.

‘[A]nd she was the third Áine and she was holding the kitchen knife and he was breathing hard and he was scared, she could see that, really scared, and she couldn’t remember when she’d woken up and when she’d got out of the bed, and someone said: “I think I’m inside a nightmare. I’m sorry.”’

Lanigan’s debut novel brims with potential with its unique premise that speaks to the experience of many trying to build their own lives in this current housing crisis. Lanigan’s protagonist, Áine, is deliberately flat in tone, dejected and deflated, and is an incredibly unreliable narrator.

Forced by circumstance to move in with her partner, Elliot, Áine finds herself living in the ground-floor flat of a split house in London, enclosed by creeping mould and the mounting weight of her perceived failings.

It quickly becomes apparent that something is amiss with either Áine or her new surroundings. Equally as swift, it is confirmed that Áine has stopped taking her prescription medication. As a result, Áine spirals down into a hole of paranoia and fear as everyone and everything, including the house, is working against her. Elliot doesn’t believe Áine that the house is haunted, and this tension, push and pull, between them grows tedious to read, perhaps purposely so, as Áine falls further into poor mental health.

While marketed as a ghost story set in the housing crisis, it is fairer to go into this novel with the knowledge that it is a psychological examination of how the housing crisis is affecting young people. The ‘hauntings’ are mundane, making it clear from the onset that the ‘hauntings’ are caused by Áine’s failure to confront her growing unhappiness with her living situation, her failing relationship with Elliot, and her inability to leave given the lack of alternative housing options available.

Lanigan’s use of language is stylistically flat and repetitive like thoughts swirling in a panicked and numb mind. Áine’s mental deterioration is surreal and claustrophobic making it difficult to reach the end of this novel without feeling similarly to Áine in her ‘haunted house.’

If you’re a fan of #psychologicalhorror , this might be the novel for you.

‘I Want to Go Home but I’m Already There’ hits shelves on the 20th of March 2025. Many thanks to @penguinukbooks for the advanced reader copy in exchange for an honest review.

I was emotionally draining to read this book which is a reflection of how the main character feels throughout this book dealing with feeling attacked on all fronts from living in a rented house and not being able to make it a home because of all the outside influences getting in the way, including her own subconscious thinking the flat is haunted.

I don’t think I ‘got’ this book - although I’ve rented before, I hadn’t personally went through the renting horrors mentioned although I’ve certainly heard stories. For example my brother’s flat in Edinburgh was constantly so cold that he managed to set the flat on fire, quite badly, with a cheap portable heater!

I liked the deadpan humour though. Also, the way Áine and Elliott’s relationship was portrayed felt very real and seeing it slowly gain more cracks was interesting to see. Overall though I felt because there didn’t seem to be many strong events in the story and there was a lot of the same internal monologue in-between, this may have been better as a novella. If I related to any of the characters then I reckon I would have enjoyed this more.

I want to go home but I’m already there is a lit fic novel with a sprinkling of horror, if you go into this expecting out and out horror you will be disappointed.

The horror presented by Roisin Lanigan in this novel is the normal and the mundane. What haunts Aine, our protagonist, is the fact she has managed to sleep walk from her uni days to her mid-late twenties. To find her best friend might not be her best friend and they might just be friends because their rooms were next to each other at halls. The horror of moving in with your partner and discovering all their faults and becoming aware of your own, clawing to the cracks as that relationship starts to crumble.

Roisin Lanigan does an excellent job at bringing the characters and themes to life in this novel. In addition, to shining a spotlight on the London renting crisis and faceless landlords.

The writing style is best described as stream of consciousness, which will not be everyone’s cup of tea but I didn’t mind it and I felt it helped give the novel a decent pace.

I enjoyed the novel but feel I wasn’t exactly the target reader and the it didn’t fully resonate with me. I know there will be other people who will resonate more with the protagonist and this will be a 4+ star read for them.

I will read more by this author as I enjoyed the writing style and how real everything felt, from the descriptions of flat viewings to the words uttered during arguments.

I Want To Go Home But I'm Already There is a novel about the horrors of the housing crisis in London, as a young woman moves into a rental flat with her boyfriend and becomes convinced something is wrong with the flat. Áine has just moved into a flat in a nice area with her boyfriend, Elliot, pleased because their rent is affordable, but the flat seems different once they move in: damp, cold, and hostile. As she spends time in the flat working from home, or not working, it feels worse and worse, but Elliot doesn't seem to see it.

I was drawn in by the description of this book, combining the rental crisis with the 'young person's life is falling apart' genre of literary fiction and ghost story elements. That really is what the novel is, with the caveat that it is also very ambiguous and slow paced, playing with ideas of what kind of nightmare Áine is actually living. The atmosphere is perhaps the best thing about the book, sharply realised and accurate to the sense of dread that comes with hostile living conditions and a mental weariness that you cannot do anything about them (and, in this case, people don't even believe her about them). You can practically feel the mould growing as you read (and having lived in a mouldy flat in London, it gave terrible flashbacks).

Whilst reading, I couldn't tell if the book was going to have something big and decisive that would reveal whether this ghost story had a particular cause, otherworldly or mundane. It is more of an ambiguous narrative, not even delving into for example what Áine's Prescription that she often doesn't take is for. The effect of this is to leave you wondering, particularly around Áine and Elliot's relationship and how much either of them actually paid attention to the other one, and it does work well to explore the sense of being trapped that can take many different forms.

I enjoyed reading this book, though it did feel slow at times, and I liked that it took the genre that was around a lot a few years ago, with a young woman spiralling, and used it to focus on the housing crisis and how its impact goes far beyond just a place to live in. The ambiguity made sense, but I also felt like it lessened the ability to really explore the impact of the housing crisis on mental and physical health, with a vague, neat conclusion. I do think the book would be good if adapted for film or TV, as I feel the sense of dread would work well.

This is a horror story about renting which is to say that this is a story about renting. Áine & Elliot have just moved in together. Áine wasn’t entirely sold on the flat what with the weird basement emanating damp & creepy upstairs neighbours. But it’s a good step in their relationship!

The atmosphere here was so well crafted I felt like I was getting mould poisoning simply by reading. Áine is very in her head about a lot of things and we’re right there with her. But I mean she isn’t always wrong! And Elliott seems nonchalant & dismissive in a way that I would find frustrating.

I thought this was a really fresh and well done take on a story that isn’t new i.e. the breakdown of relationship.

I started off really enjoying the premise of this book. It's about a y0ung couple negotiating the London housing crisis and ending up in an old property with several issues, mainly the growing mould.

The book summary suggests it's a ghost story, but at the end we are left unsatisfied as several things are left unexplained, several knots not tied up.

Maybe the target market isn't me - maybe it would be better understood by someone going through this scenario, or having gone through this scenario.

thank you to Netgalley and the publisher for an e-arc in exchange for an honest review! <3

’Loving her was like loving a haunted house’

I Want To Go Home But I’m Already There, is a depressingly brilliant, thought-provoking look at self-worth, love and loneliness in England’s housing crisis.

We follow a young-couple, Elliott and Áine, as they move into their new flat. Things take a turn for the worse, however, as Áine increasingly suspects the flat as being haunted, and Elliott does not. We watch them navigate work, their relationship and their social lives, all as the flat continues to grow an all-encompassing mould.

I knew the moment I picked up I Want To Go Home…. that I would love it. As a young person myself (about to finish uni, in my early 20’s) I found myself relating wholly to the couples experience in finding a house. The housing crisis in England is a truly horrifying thing for young people, one pock-marked with cruel land-lords, ever rising rents and a feeling that while you may be able to live in a ‘house’ you can never make it your home, you can never own your own little plot of land. Lanigan did a fantastic job at portraying this, with her witty remarks on the almost non-existent estate agent ‘Jack S’ and of course the dominant and almost oppressive nature of the nameless landlord. I love how these figures that dictate so much of our lives had such a menacing presence throughout the book. You don’t need to see your landlord every day to know they have a complete hold over your life, and I think Lanigan perfected this.

The highlight of this story, for me, was Áine. It’s been a long time since I’ve related so much to a book character that it honestly made me feel a little scared! Her imposter-syndrome, utter lack of self-worth and reliance on the idea that she is loved without knowing whether she loves someone back, was so captivating to me, as someone who feels all these emotions daily. The way that her and Elliott’s relationship was portrayed as imperfect was very important to show in a society, and economy, in which meaningful relationships are so hard to develop and grow.

While I Want To Go Home…. had some slower moments for me, it took me a little while to fully immerse myself in the story, this is such a worthwhile read.

Overall, I Want To Go Home But I’m Already There gets 4/5 stars.

Okay, I have so much to say about this book... Are you ready? Let's go!

Firstly, I'll start with the positives I did love Lanigan's writing style it was really clear and straight to the point. It felt delightfully conversational and real but still had a poetic element to it which I enjoyed. It did feel pretty sequential and other than the eeriness of the house, I knew exactly who each character was relatively quickly. The character descriptions were also perfectly specific and niche, for instance how Laura is described as someone who walks 'through life golden' - lovely description and creative too!

I also was a big fan of the sensory detail, for example the back of the car is described as still smelling 'vaguely of oil and potatoes' which once again is such a small detail that felt like it really screamed out at me from the page because of it is high relatability.

Áine is a really relatable character, she's messy in places but she felt fully formed as a character and had true grit to her. Elliotts character also seems so charming, thoughtful and fun - my opinion of him did change towards the end of the book but both Áine and Elliott were pretty likeable if not extraordinarily relatable.

As the book progressed, I feel like we got a front row seat to Áine and Elliott's relationship and the true colours of it. Their relationship did feel hollow and sometimes a situation of convenience/comfort at times which whilst feeling real was hard to read because they both seemed so unhappy and unsatisfied but like they were pretending not to be. Lanigan does a phenomenal job at capturing an insular and perhaps even codependent relationship even though at times it felt sad and difficult to muster through.

I also think Áine's character makes an absolutely stellar point that really resonated with me when reflecting on her relationship with Elliott. She can't tell whether him being 'the first person who had ever done things' for her was a sign of 'his goodness' or 'evidence of her own poor taste in men' - amen. This felt profound and made me think, so thank you Lanigan! This aside, I did find the unravelling of their relationship really unsatisfying and at times straight up depressing to witness which contributed to my overall rating for sure.

Elliott's caring nature towards Áine is initially charming but it evolves into almost an unhealthy power dynamic as the plot progresses. She compares the way he treats her to how one would treat 'a little plant' which did feel a little condescending and almost like Elliott saw her as weak or less than - which I'm not a fan of.

Similarly, I really liked Laura and Áine's friendship. It felt like they definitely grew apart after the move, which is understandable, but it felt like things got uglier than necessary and this was really sad to read. It felt like a lot of things slipped out of Áine's reach and it was borderline depressing to watch her closest friendship to be one of them.

The storytelling started off really strong, Lanigan is really talented at seamlessly weaving flashbacks into the plot to help give you a proper understanding of the characters, their dynamic but also the history of who they've been and the history of their relationships too. This is probably thanks in part to the writing, but it did feel pretty realistic - there was so much attention to detail it felt achingly genuine.

The writing read fast and had a lot of wit to it which helped break up the more depressing elements of the plot. There were weirdly creepy and eerie moments sprinkled throughout which added to the plot and definitely gave the whole thing some suspense and substance.

I think overall, the storytelling and writing style had such potential but the momentum and overall plot was too slow for me. Whilst the relationships all felt real and relatable, the overall tone was consistently too depressing and dire for me to really enjoy. Also a final point, it is stated in the book that ready salted is the best crisp flavour, this doesn't affect my review of the book as a whole but I strongly strongly disagree.

This was so up my street.

Aine moves into a flat with her boyfriend and thinks it might be haunted. She watched the mould crawl up the walls and is convinced there’s something in the basement. Her boyfriend Elliott doesn’t believe her and neither does her best friend Laura.

As Aine starts to unravel we’re left to wonder, is her flat haunted? Is she imagining things? Is the mould killing them?

This isn’t really a horror and not really a ghost story, and is more like a classic messy woman surviving in london’s housing crisis. It was very for me.

4 stars.

An intense, cramped, and psychologically challenging book. A study on relationships, fear, and the housing crisis that will resonate with anyone who has lived in a large city. This book, which is eerie, unnerving, and keenly observed, encapsulates the spirit of our times with witty commentary on the real estate market, class differences, and financial concerns that can turn many people's life into living hell. An intriguing new voice in the literary world, Roisin Lanigan makes a strong start.

Argh, I wanted to love this, I really did. The premise was excellent and the start was strong, but so much of the story skirted around stuff without delivering the goods. A lot of the writing was nice, but ultimately it just all felt like vibes and aesthetics without any substance. This was sold as a horror novel, and the setup was absolutely there…but it all just fizzled out and left me frustrated. Shame!

Thanks to NetGalley and the publishers for the ARC.

Aine lives in London with her BFF; Laura, but they’re growing up and on now and move in with their respective partners. Whilst Laura seems to have it all, a houseboat, plenty of social media content and an engagement, for Aine it’s all going very wrong. The flat she rents with her partner, Elliot; is seemingly cursed, the odd couple upstairs, the unending mould, the flat seeps in misery and she seems to be the only one deeply affected.

I felt this book was a tad too long, Aine’s obsession with the mould and upstairs neighbours wore on me. I wanted Aine to confront Laura about Moon and Cian seemed a bit of a waste of a character. Despite the detail throughout it felt empty, like I hadn’t really read anything.

Thank you for this ARC.

I loved this book. An intense, claustrophobic and yet unemotional read. A study in anxiety, relationships and the housing crisis that anyone who has spent time living in a big city will be able to relate to (with no hint of preachiness about it). There isn’t much plot but that’s kind of the point - the banal details of daily life somehow rendered interesting by the detailed descriptions and occasional flashes of drama. A slow-burn that gnaws at you. Unsettling, but an excellent novel for it.