Áine should be feeling happy with her life. She’s just moved in with her boyfriend Elliot. Their new flat is in an affluent neighbourhood, surrounded by bakeries, yoga studios and organic vegetable shops. They even have a garden. And yet, from the moment they move in, Áine can't shake the sense that there's something not quite right about the place...
In her debut book, editor and writer Róisín Lanigan explores the grim realities of London's housing crisis from the perspective of an Irish woman in her 20s. Told through bitter humour and creepy paranormal activity, I Want To Go Home But I'm Already There is a relatable insight into the discomforts that haunt Generation Rent.
Naked Politics: Your book is so relatable to anyone who has ever had to go through the painstaking experience of finding a place to rent in London. How much of the book is based on your own experiences as a renter?
Róisín: Thank you! Although this is fiction, it's definitely influenced by my personal experiences renting in London (and Belfast). I've always lived in flats like Áine and Elliott's, very damp and dusty places that aren't properly maintained by landlords or agencies. I think the saying of writing what you know is very true - I wrote the book in shitty rented flats, so I know shitty rented flats pretty well.
Naked Politics: What was the research process like writing about the state of being a renter today? Did you hear any interesting stories from people you interviewed or trawl through horror listings online?
Róisín: Some of the things that happen in the book are things that have happened to me or friends of mine - living on houseboats because you think it's a way of somehow 'hacking the system' and climbing the property ladder, or sofa-surfing and moving in with your partner or constantly going 'travelling' or city hopping back and forth between your parents house because your living situation is somewhat precarious. The Rightmove ads that Áine encounters in the book are also all real - they were genuine ads that I saw and saved to use because the reality was in many cases worse than anything I could have invented myself.
Naked Politics: How can we (Generation Rent) find a sense of home? It feels like Áine’s journey of turmoil and then acceptance throughout the book is what brings her closer to a sense of home. How much of it comes from within versus our living situation?
Róisín: Áine has to find home within herself because she can't magically create a better physical living situation by the end of the novel - she doesn't have the means to do so. I would have loved to have written a happily ever after for her where she magically comes into a huge amount of money and places a deposit on a house and is secure forever, but it's not very realistic. Acceptance is a good way of putting it. She's not totally healed or safe but she feels better about her own choices and more at peace with herself.
I think finding home when you can't buy a home has a lot to do with this, sadly - I say sadly because this is not an ideal situation, we should be able to access real, proper homes with ease - it's about surrounding yourself with people who feel like home to you, or at least avoiding the people who make you feel emotionally homeless.
Naked Politics: What drew you to telling Áine’s story through the lens of a paranormal encounter? Have you lived in a haunted house?
Róisín: I've never lived in a haunted house - at least as far as I know! I wanted to make the book paranormal because I thought this was an interesting way of highlighting the uncanny, sinister nature of the rental market, and also a way to subvert the tropes of women in horror, particularly when they're assumed to be 'going mad'.
Naked Politics: You touch on so many of the fears that women in their 20s go through the motions of (or at least I do) - fear of friends hating you, fear of making the wrong life decisions, fear of being deemed crazy - can you tell us more about that?
Róisín: I think in many ways the book tells the story of a second adolescence or perhaps a second coming of age. We grow up but what we understand to be 'becoming an adult' is now very different to generations before us. Millennials and Zoomers own property later (and perhaps never) they get married later and have children later, they have less savings. Everyone is hitting these generational markers later if at all, and that impacts how we live and interact with our loved ones.
That second coming of age arrives in drips and drabs, individually, and it complicates friendships, particularly, I think, for young women. Áine feels that Laura is moving on without her and their friendship becomes strained perhaps beyond repair. I think that of all the relationships in the book it's Laura rather than Elliott or Cian who matters the most to Áine. People have described it as a sort of doomed love story but I think that applies as much to Laura and Áine as it does to Áine and Elliott. Friendship break-ups can be just as devastating, if not more, than relationships ending.
Naked Politics: What do you recommend to readers who feel hopeless about the state of the housing and renting market? What can we do?
Róisín: Stop voting for people who aren't building houses and thinking your landlord is your friend.
I Want to Go Home but I’m Already There is published by Penguin, and available now.
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