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Todos aínda aquí
Os seis contos de Todos aínda aquí transcorren baixo a sombra da violencia política no norte de Irlanda e exploran as formas en que o pasado histórico continúa poboando o presente íntimo dos seus inesquecibles e singularísimos personaxes. O eco dos medos herdados, dos silencios familiares e das identidades en disputa resoa en cada unha das historias de Liadan Ní Chuinn, quen, cunha prosa austera, exacta e chea de personalidade, é capaz de compoñer unha obra delicada e feroz ao mesmo tempo, onde o persoal e o político se entrelazan de xeito brillante. Un debut literario extraordinario que, segundo The Irish Times, “debe ser considerado un dos grandes fitos da literatura irlandesa do século XXI”.
176 pages, Paperback
First published July 17, 2025
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August 25, 2025
Northern Ireland is both setting and subject in this exceptional collection. It contains six stories which primarily take place post the turbulent period referred to as the Troubles - although they should shatter any illusions that the Troubles simply ended. Instead, these arresting pieces highlight the ways in which conflict persists even though its expression may have altered – witness for example the extraordinary rise in young people dying by suicide in the following years; and the ongoing, incendiary actions of loyalist paramilitaries. Born in 1998 in the wake of the Good Friday peace agreement, the writer behind this memorable debut is one of the so-called ‘ceasefire babies.’ Liadan Ní Chuinn is the pseudonym adopted by a West Belfast, non-binary author who has refused face-to-face interviews as well as participation in conventional marketing aimed at promoting them as a brand. Although the mystery surrounding their true identity has itself fuelled interest in their work.
At first glance Ní Chuinn’s style’s unusually unembellished, direct, immediate, sometimes intimate and confiding. However, even elements that appear raw and spontaneous are the outcome of meticulous crafting: Ní Chuinn deploys different points-of-view, tense and structure to communicate complex arguments and thoughts even when underlying emotions seem to be bleeding through. These admirably-disciplined stories also share the sense that they’re slices-of-ongoing-life - in keeping with Ní Chuinn’s emphasis on issues which have never, and may never, be truly resolved. The collection’s deliberately bookended by early pieces centred on the manifold legacies of British imperialism and the years of occupation by British ‘security forces’, in particular the lasting impact on families and communities. And both “We All Go” and the less even “Daisy Hill” are potent reflections on intergenerational trauma.
In the haunting “We All Go” with its vivid, visceral imagery, Jackie’s mired in grief after his father’s long drawn-out death; grappling with a narrative inheritance that includes strip searches, midnight raids and the time just before his birth when his parents were hijacked by loyalist paramilitaries out hunting Catholics. “Daisy Hill” explores overlapping territory, the terrifying stories passed down from generation to generation, the rage, helplessness and guilt of those who can only bear witness. It moves from downbeat domestic scenes to moments of near-frenzy. But then, unexpectedly, presents an immensely powerful recitation of the violence meted out by British forces - and successive institutional failures to hold individual actors accountable. It offers up a litany of atrocities through its listing of the names and circumstances of many of their victims: the ‘rape of the Falls’; the horrific events of ‘Bloody Sunday’; the children killed by soldiers on routine patrols; the summarily interned, the mocked, the tortured, the beaten, the slaughtered.
Fractured families also feature in “Amalur”, “Russia” and “Novena” – for me the weakest entry. Laced with flashes of lyrical beauty “Amalur” - titled after the Basque deity - is an evocative reminder of Northern Ireland’s diversity; an inventive examination of family dynamics, comfort and refuge, damage and the things that are left unsaid. Processes of dehumanisation preoccupy Ní Chuinn and recur as themes throughout, strongly informing “Russia” which discusses the brutal effects of the severing of roots through two siblings adopted from ‘somewhere’ in Russia. One of whom now works in a museum where an unknown activist is calling attention to the ethics of displaying the dead, particularly bodies plundered from other cultures and countries. The beautifully-constructed “Mary” critiques creative writing classes and the constraints they place on the rendering of everyday experiences, on what can and can’t be written about. It also echoes aspects of “Amalur” in its consideration of how seemingly-inconsequential actions can destroy close bonds, here a couple’s relationship is irrevocably changed when one recognises the other doesn’t share their most fundamental values.
Overall, impressive, intense, moving and insightful. I can see why Ní Chuinn’s been so widely praised. Although for some, as with rap group Kneecap the ‘ceasefire babies’ from Derry and West Belfast, Ní Chuinn’s particular fierce and fiercely political stance on contemporary Northern Ireland will undoubtedly be considered highly provocative.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Granta Books for an ARC
Rating: 4.5
At first glance Ní Chuinn’s style’s unusually unembellished, direct, immediate, sometimes intimate and confiding. However, even elements that appear raw and spontaneous are the outcome of meticulous crafting: Ní Chuinn deploys different points-of-view, tense and structure to communicate complex arguments and thoughts even when underlying emotions seem to be bleeding through. These admirably-disciplined stories also share the sense that they’re slices-of-ongoing-life - in keeping with Ní Chuinn’s emphasis on issues which have never, and may never, be truly resolved. The collection’s deliberately bookended by early pieces centred on the manifold legacies of British imperialism and the years of occupation by British ‘security forces’, in particular the lasting impact on families and communities. And both “We All Go” and the less even “Daisy Hill” are potent reflections on intergenerational trauma.
In the haunting “We All Go” with its vivid, visceral imagery, Jackie’s mired in grief after his father’s long drawn-out death; grappling with a narrative inheritance that includes strip searches, midnight raids and the time just before his birth when his parents were hijacked by loyalist paramilitaries out hunting Catholics. “Daisy Hill” explores overlapping territory, the terrifying stories passed down from generation to generation, the rage, helplessness and guilt of those who can only bear witness. It moves from downbeat domestic scenes to moments of near-frenzy. But then, unexpectedly, presents an immensely powerful recitation of the violence meted out by British forces - and successive institutional failures to hold individual actors accountable. It offers up a litany of atrocities through its listing of the names and circumstances of many of their victims: the ‘rape of the Falls’; the horrific events of ‘Bloody Sunday’; the children killed by soldiers on routine patrols; the summarily interned, the mocked, the tortured, the beaten, the slaughtered.
Fractured families also feature in “Amalur”, “Russia” and “Novena” – for me the weakest entry. Laced with flashes of lyrical beauty “Amalur” - titled after the Basque deity - is an evocative reminder of Northern Ireland’s diversity; an inventive examination of family dynamics, comfort and refuge, damage and the things that are left unsaid. Processes of dehumanisation preoccupy Ní Chuinn and recur as themes throughout, strongly informing “Russia” which discusses the brutal effects of the severing of roots through two siblings adopted from ‘somewhere’ in Russia. One of whom now works in a museum where an unknown activist is calling attention to the ethics of displaying the dead, particularly bodies plundered from other cultures and countries. The beautifully-constructed “Mary” critiques creative writing classes and the constraints they place on the rendering of everyday experiences, on what can and can’t be written about. It also echoes aspects of “Amalur” in its consideration of how seemingly-inconsequential actions can destroy close bonds, here a couple’s relationship is irrevocably changed when one recognises the other doesn’t share their most fundamental values.
Overall, impressive, intense, moving and insightful. I can see why Ní Chuinn’s been so widely praised. Although for some, as with rap group Kneecap the ‘ceasefire babies’ from Derry and West Belfast, Ní Chuinn’s particular fierce and fiercely political stance on contemporary Northern Ireland will undoubtedly be considered highly provocative.
Thanks to Netgalley and publisher Granta Books for an ARC
Rating: 4.5
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August 4, 2025I was attracted to this collection by the lack of publicity. Having said that, there was definitely a publicity as I've read about it in a newspaper. However, the author has refused to participate in it. Liadan refused to give any interviews. Moreover, Liadan Ni Chuinn is not their real name. However the others described the collection as something extraordinary written by a new prodigious talent from Belfast. I personally admire Liadan’s stance. Nowadays it seems the readers are getting more from the discussions with the authors than from the actual text. I am kind of old fashioned in this regard. I always thought that the text should speak for itself. (In fact I prefer to play a little game trying to infer a personality of the author based upon their work.) I do not mind a piece of criticism, especially if it contains an original interpretation on a text. But all those direct conversations and interviews with the authors explaining their books puts me off from reading those books. I understand the other readers have a very different view on this. And of course it is totally fine. Plus I am sure all the publicity helps those authors to sell their books. But the refusal by Liadan in participating in this charade made me their fan.
The book itself has left a bit of a mixed impression on me though. It felt very much a debut for me that it indeed was. There was a presence of a very strong, unique and angry authoritarian voice throughout and it was a good thing. However, it seemed the author was still experimenting with different writing tools such as present tense, intermingling and juxtaposing too threads into a story, bringing a set of people into a single place (like a market) and making them think about their lives later connecting their stories only superficially. So all of this on occasion felt little raw, like a work of person learning the craft.
The stories are a type of kitchen sink realism with an element of rage. The rage is caused by the trauma of The troubles viewed from the perspective of a "ceasefire" generation. Also another theme running through is the complicity of a person in small acts of cowardice or betrayal. And how the person grapples with that after a fact. It is a very poignant and difficult topic. I think everyone can relate to this feeling as I do not think there is a single person in this world who is not complicit in something. It could be a small thing or could be something big and political when the choices are much less clear and the issue can seem quite remote. In some of these stories Liadan has successfully shown such situations.
The first story 'We all go" has created a very powerful impression on me. It starts with a little baby still not born facing the violence of The Troubles through his mum and dad. It shows how the trauma of The Troubles still directly affects the lives of the ordinary people. Liadan has convincingly depicted a family grappling with the loss of a father through the eyes of a son who tries to find whom to blame, tries to understand what justice means. The father has died of a disease, not during the conflict. But in the boy's mind it is the conflict to blame, and specifically the British state. The family's story is juxtaposed against the boy's practice with bodies's dissections in an anatomic lab. I thought it was really strong start of the collection.
Another story I loved was the one called 'Mary'. Liadan weaves a it around a situation of a little girl spending her days in a bus without anyone knowing where she is coming from. It is just a focal point. The story is layered and complex connecting many disparate themes and very human.
The rest of the stores though promising thematically were less successful in terms of execution. Some of them lacked a bit of a formal daring and were little too obvious. Some of them in their rage have become too didactic. The last story for example, seems a re-run of the first. But it also contains around nine pages listing factual atrocities the British state and its soldiers has committed against Northern Irish civilians. I guess it is done to underscore the lack of justice from the perspective of many citizens of Northen Ireland. All those cases are well documented and well known. I am not sure these nine pages or a third of the whole story adds to the power of the story per se. I might sound controversial here but in case of the literature, an understatement and omission sometimes is more powerful then re-ran of factual bits about the atrocities. (Dasha Drndic for example often included the list of names of the people perished in Holocaust without any further explanation. It was very effective as well as eerie.) I personally was familiar with these facts. There is for example a relatively recent BBC documentary Once upon a time in Northern Ireland that contains unfiltered testimonies of people with personal memories of the conflict. It was a very difficult but very powerful watch. But here, in this story these facts seem to stand alone under the powerful and symbolic subtitle "The Truth" instead of being incorporated into the fiction somehow. I can understand if Liadan's goal was to bring them up the wider audience of the new generation of readers and search for more justice. What is to be done about this now is the question it raised in my head. I do not have any answers.
The book itself has left a bit of a mixed impression on me though. It felt very much a debut for me that it indeed was. There was a presence of a very strong, unique and angry authoritarian voice throughout and it was a good thing. However, it seemed the author was still experimenting with different writing tools such as present tense, intermingling and juxtaposing too threads into a story, bringing a set of people into a single place (like a market) and making them think about their lives later connecting their stories only superficially. So all of this on occasion felt little raw, like a work of person learning the craft.
The stories are a type of kitchen sink realism with an element of rage. The rage is caused by the trauma of The troubles viewed from the perspective of a "ceasefire" generation. Also another theme running through is the complicity of a person in small acts of cowardice or betrayal. And how the person grapples with that after a fact. It is a very poignant and difficult topic. I think everyone can relate to this feeling as I do not think there is a single person in this world who is not complicit in something. It could be a small thing or could be something big and political when the choices are much less clear and the issue can seem quite remote. In some of these stories Liadan has successfully shown such situations.
The first story 'We all go" has created a very powerful impression on me. It starts with a little baby still not born facing the violence of The Troubles through his mum and dad. It shows how the trauma of The Troubles still directly affects the lives of the ordinary people. Liadan has convincingly depicted a family grappling with the loss of a father through the eyes of a son who tries to find whom to blame, tries to understand what justice means. The father has died of a disease, not during the conflict. But in the boy's mind it is the conflict to blame, and specifically the British state. The family's story is juxtaposed against the boy's practice with bodies's dissections in an anatomic lab. I thought it was really strong start of the collection.
Another story I loved was the one called 'Mary'. Liadan weaves a it around a situation of a little girl spending her days in a bus without anyone knowing where she is coming from. It is just a focal point. The story is layered and complex connecting many disparate themes and very human.
The rest of the stores though promising thematically were less successful in terms of execution. Some of them lacked a bit of a formal daring and were little too obvious. Some of them in their rage have become too didactic. The last story for example, seems a re-run of the first. But it also contains around nine pages listing factual atrocities the British state and its soldiers has committed against Northern Irish civilians. I guess it is done to underscore the lack of justice from the perspective of many citizens of Northen Ireland. All those cases are well documented and well known. I am not sure these nine pages or a third of the whole story adds to the power of the story per se. I might sound controversial here but in case of the literature, an understatement and omission sometimes is more powerful then re-ran of factual bits about the atrocities. (Dasha Drndic for example often included the list of names of the people perished in Holocaust without any further explanation. It was very effective as well as eerie.) I personally was familiar with these facts. There is for example a relatively recent BBC documentary Once upon a time in Northern Ireland that contains unfiltered testimonies of people with personal memories of the conflict. It was a very difficult but very powerful watch. But here, in this story these facts seem to stand alone under the powerful and symbolic subtitle "The Truth" instead of being incorporated into the fiction somehow. I can understand if Liadan's goal was to bring them up the wider audience of the new generation of readers and search for more justice. What is to be done about this now is the question it raised in my head. I do not have any answers.
October 19, 2025
This short-story collection has been the subject of much fanfare in the media of late. It's the first book of a young author from Northern Ireland, writing under a pseudonym, about whom little else is known. 'Among the best Irish books of the 21st century' according to the Irish Times - it's fair to say my expectations were sky high.
And it gets of to a flier with the best story in the collection. We All Go considers a young man named Jackie, who struggles with the anatomy class he attends at university as well as the grief at losing his father. It excels at depicting the claustrophobia of his life at home, as he is shunned by his mother in favour of his sister. It takes place in the shadow of the Troubles, as all theses stories do, leaving the characters searching for meaning in its wake. Another tale named Mary stood out for me, about an unemployed woman who joins a writing class and decides to compose a story about a young girl she meets every day on the bus. She also learns that her kind and gentle husband, a taxi driver, has taken a large fare to transport three girls who were clearly being trafficked. Her dilemmas had me intrigued.
However I'm afraid to say the rest of the stories didn't really grab my attention at all. The final effort, Daisy Hill, has been much discussed. It ends with a record of dozens of people killed by the British Army in Northern Ireland - I guess its intent is to shock, but I didn't find much literary merit in it. For me this book is the introduction of an exciting new talent, who is not quite the finished article just yet. Keep an eye out for the name Liadan Ni Chuinn - let's see what they come up with next.
And it gets of to a flier with the best story in the collection. We All Go considers a young man named Jackie, who struggles with the anatomy class he attends at university as well as the grief at losing his father. It excels at depicting the claustrophobia of his life at home, as he is shunned by his mother in favour of his sister. It takes place in the shadow of the Troubles, as all theses stories do, leaving the characters searching for meaning in its wake. Another tale named Mary stood out for me, about an unemployed woman who joins a writing class and decides to compose a story about a young girl she meets every day on the bus. She also learns that her kind and gentle husband, a taxi driver, has taken a large fare to transport three girls who were clearly being trafficked. Her dilemmas had me intrigued.
However I'm afraid to say the rest of the stories didn't really grab my attention at all. The final effort, Daisy Hill, has been much discussed. It ends with a record of dozens of people killed by the British Army in Northern Ireland - I guess its intent is to shock, but I didn't find much literary merit in it. For me this book is the introduction of an exciting new talent, who is not quite the finished article just yet. Keep an eye out for the name Liadan Ni Chuinn - let's see what they come up with next.
September 12, 2026
1998’li bir yazar liadan ní chuinn. ismi takma, kim olduğu belli değil. bu zamanda bu anonimliği korumak kolay değil takdir edersiniz ki.
medusa yayınlarının “her biri hâlâ burada”yı radarına alıp basması o kadar önemli ki… zaten pek çok ödül de almış. genç yazarların ne yaptığına ne yapmadığına dair bize çok güzel ders veriyor ki geçenlerde bizden 2003’lü bir yazar için de aynı şeyleri söylemiştim.
kitapta 6 öykü var, hakkında daha uzun yazmayı düşündüğüm için kısa yazacağım. ilk iki öykü ve son öykü için bu kitap alınır, okunur. tabii ülkemizde yaşananların üstüne bir de irlanda’da olanları okumak istemezseniz, bilemem, ağır gelebilir.
ama irlanda’dan gencecik bir yazarın kimliğe, kimsesizliğe, ülkesine, hatta bask bölgesine ait öykü yazması, bu öyküde musa anter’den alıntı kullanması benim tüylerimi diken diken etti.
son öyküde yapılanların dökümünü vermek adına (babamı kim öldürdü’nün finalini hatırladım) bir nebze öykünün kurgusunu harcamış sanki ama müthişti o döküm. mahvoldum okurken çünkü her şey aynıydı :((
ilk iki öykü favorim. 2. tekil şahısla öykü yazılması beni çok zorluyor bazen. “mary” zorladı.
berrak göçer’in dipnotları olmadan irlanda meselesini anlamak zor olurdu, çok güzel bir çeviri.
medusa yayınlarının “her biri hâlâ burada”yı radarına alıp basması o kadar önemli ki… zaten pek çok ödül de almış. genç yazarların ne yaptığına ne yapmadığına dair bize çok güzel ders veriyor ki geçenlerde bizden 2003’lü bir yazar için de aynı şeyleri söylemiştim.
kitapta 6 öykü var, hakkında daha uzun yazmayı düşündüğüm için kısa yazacağım. ilk iki öykü ve son öykü için bu kitap alınır, okunur. tabii ülkemizde yaşananların üstüne bir de irlanda’da olanları okumak istemezseniz, bilemem, ağır gelebilir.
ama irlanda’dan gencecik bir yazarın kimliğe, kimsesizliğe, ülkesine, hatta bask bölgesine ait öykü yazması, bu öyküde musa anter’den alıntı kullanması benim tüylerimi diken diken etti.
son öyküde yapılanların dökümünü vermek adına (babamı kim öldürdü’nün finalini hatırladım) bir nebze öykünün kurgusunu harcamış sanki ama müthişti o döküm. mahvoldum okurken çünkü her şey aynıydı :((
ilk iki öykü favorim. 2. tekil şahısla öykü yazılması beni çok zorluyor bazen. “mary” zorladı.
berrak göçer’in dipnotları olmadan irlanda meselesini anlamak zor olurdu, çok güzel bir çeviri.
July 23, 2026
3.5/5
Her Biri Hâlâ Burada’yı karışık hislerle tamamladım. Özellikle Hepimiz Gidiciyiz ve Mary açık ara favorilerim oldu. Hatta Hepimiz Gidiciyiz’den sonra beklentim hayli yükseldi ama diğer öyküleri (Mary ve son öykü Daisy Hill hariç) çok sevemedim. Kötü olduklarını düşünmüyorum ama dahil olmakta zorlandım diyelim. Yine de Liann Ní Chuinn’in sade ama duyguyu incelikle taşıyan dili kitabın en sevdiğim yanı oldu. Her öykü aynı ölçüde vurmasa da iyi bir ilk tanışma kitabıydı.
Her Biri Hâlâ Burada’yı karışık hislerle tamamladım. Özellikle Hepimiz Gidiciyiz ve Mary açık ara favorilerim oldu. Hatta Hepimiz Gidiciyiz’den sonra beklentim hayli yükseldi ama diğer öyküleri (Mary ve son öykü Daisy Hill hariç) çok sevemedim. Kötü olduklarını düşünmüyorum ama dahil olmakta zorlandım diyelim. Yine de Liann Ní Chuinn’in sade ama duyguyu incelikle taşıyan dili kitabın en sevdiğim yanı oldu. Her öykü aynı ölçüde vurmasa da iyi bir ilk tanışma kitabıydı.
October 12, 2025
An impressive debut collection about intergenerational trauma and those who are left behind, with indignation about State violence as driving force.
I enjoyed the first three stories best, after that it felt slightly uneven.
Especially the opening story We All Go - about a dying father from a family struggling with the reverberations of the Troubles - is deeply moving and has so many layers.
The final story 'Daisy Hill' deals with the same subject matter but is angrier.
I loved 'Amalur' too, set in the Basque country, about a girl from a broken home who comes to realize she loves her boyfriend's warm family more than she loves him.
Clearly a writer to watch.
I enjoyed the first three stories best, after that it felt slightly uneven.
Especially the opening story We All Go - about a dying father from a family struggling with the reverberations of the Troubles - is deeply moving and has so many layers.
The final story 'Daisy Hill' deals with the same subject matter but is angrier.
I loved 'Amalur' too, set in the Basque country, about a girl from a broken home who comes to realize she loves her boyfriend's warm family more than she loves him.
Clearly a writer to watch.
May 18, 2026
Sobre el trauma intergeneracional i la impossibilitat de viure com si res en una terra tacada de sang, injustícia i frustració. Com diu l'últim conte: "where is it all supposed to go?".
July 14, 2026
Claire Keegan ve Lucy Caldwell çok sevdiğim iki İrlandalı kadın yazar. Kalbimi paramparça eden, sade anlatımlarından çok etkileniyorum. Bu yıl okuduklarım içinde en sevdiğim kitaplardan oldu onların kitapları. Bu çok sevdiğim iki kadına bir yenisi eklendi diyebilirim: Liadan Ni Chuinn.
Bu, yazarın gerçek ismi değil. Kendisini sır gibi gizleyen, internette hiçbir fotoğrafı olmayan, sahte bir isim kullanan bir yazar kendisi. Tıpkı Elena Ferrante gibi. Yazara dair bilinen tek şey İrlanda ve İngiltere arasında Hayırlı Cuma Anlaşması'nın imzalandığı tarih olan 1998'de doğduğu. Bu denli genç olup bu denli ağır öyküler kaleme almasından çok etkilendim. Kitaptaki öykülerde Kuzey İrlanda ve İngiltere arasında yaşananların etkisi hissediliyor. Özellikle son öykü, İngiliz ordusunun öldürdüğü sivillere bir saygı duruşu niteliğinde.
Öyküler İrlanda edebiyatından da aşina olduğumuz şekilde yalın ama vurucu öyküler. Büyük büyük olaylar olmuyor. Yalnız, hüzünlü karakterlerimiz var. Hepimiz Gidiciyiz, Amalur ve Mary'i çok sevdim. Müzedeki ölülere çiçek bırakılan Rusya hikayesi de çok etkileyiciydi. Benim gibi sade öyküleri seven, İrlandalı kadın yazarların dünyasına, diline aşina okurların mutlaka okumasını isterim.
Bir de görünürlüğün her şeyden daha önemli hâle geldiği günümüzde fotoğrafını dahi sır gibi saklayan gencecik bir kadın yazarı bulup, harika bir çeviriyle bize ulaştıran Medusa'yı da ne kadar övsek az kalır.
Bu, yazarın gerçek ismi değil. Kendisini sır gibi gizleyen, internette hiçbir fotoğrafı olmayan, sahte bir isim kullanan bir yazar kendisi. Tıpkı Elena Ferrante gibi. Yazara dair bilinen tek şey İrlanda ve İngiltere arasında Hayırlı Cuma Anlaşması'nın imzalandığı tarih olan 1998'de doğduğu. Bu denli genç olup bu denli ağır öyküler kaleme almasından çok etkilendim. Kitaptaki öykülerde Kuzey İrlanda ve İngiltere arasında yaşananların etkisi hissediliyor. Özellikle son öykü, İngiliz ordusunun öldürdüğü sivillere bir saygı duruşu niteliğinde.
Öyküler İrlanda edebiyatından da aşina olduğumuz şekilde yalın ama vurucu öyküler. Büyük büyük olaylar olmuyor. Yalnız, hüzünlü karakterlerimiz var. Hepimiz Gidiciyiz, Amalur ve Mary'i çok sevdim. Müzedeki ölülere çiçek bırakılan Rusya hikayesi de çok etkileyiciydi. Benim gibi sade öyküleri seven, İrlandalı kadın yazarların dünyasına, diline aşina okurların mutlaka okumasını isterim.
Bir de görünürlüğün her şeyden daha önemli hâle geldiği günümüzde fotoğrafını dahi sır gibi saklayan gencecik bir kadın yazarı bulup, harika bir çeviriyle bize ulaştıran Medusa'yı da ne kadar övsek az kalır.
September 30, 2026
Racconti decisamente interessanti quelli di Sono ancora tutti qui, anche se non sempre di facile lettura per lo stile scarno e immediato, come se fossero creati di getto e senza ripensamenti. Lo sfondo è quello del lungo conflitto nell’Irlanda del Nord, ma non tanto per l’aspetto politico, quanto per il drammatico e devastante impatto sulla comunità, per la violenza gratuita inflitta dall’esercito britannico, per il trauma luttuoso che ha segnato nel profondo la popolazione civile e, alla fine, anche per la frattura generazionale che si è manifestata tra chi, volente o nolente, ha scelto la rimozione, come parte della generazione dei padri, e chi sente il peso dei morti e che, nonostante sia rappresentato dalle nuove generazioni che sono nate dopo la fine del conflitto, vive su di sé quella rimozione come una realtà popolata di fantasmi, di presenze ”assenti”.
Solo il primo e l’ultimo racconto sono in qualche modo direttamente legati al conflitto, ma il collegamento ad esso e il trauma si colgono anche negli altri tanto da restituirne l’universalità; viene spontaneo pensare a Gaza, alla Cisgiordania e all’esercito israeliano, ma il discorso può essere allargato nel tempo e nello spazio.
Solo il primo e l’ultimo racconto sono in qualche modo direttamente legati al conflitto, ma il collegamento ad esso e il trauma si colgono anche negli altri tanto da restituirne l’universalità; viene spontaneo pensare a Gaza, alla Cisgiordania e all’esercito israeliano, ma il discorso può essere allargato nel tempo e nello spazio.
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May 24, 2026El primer i l'últim relat són impecables
July 12, 2026
Todos siguen aquí es una colección de relatos ambientada en Irlanda del Norte que explora temas como el duelo, la identidad y las heridas que permanecen mucho tiempo después de que ocurra una tragedia. A través de personajes corrientes y conflictos aparentemente cotidianos, Liadann Ní Chuinn reflexiona sobre aquello con lo que cargamos y, especialmente, sobre las consecuencias que siguen teniendo generaciones después los años de violencia de The Troubles.
Como ocurre con muchas colecciones de relatos, algunos me han gustado más que otros, pero en general me ha parecido un debut muy interesante. Me ha gustado especialmente cómo la autora es capaz de abordar temas muy duros desde historias íntimas y humanas.
Uno de los aspectos que más he disfrutado es la forma en que los relatos conectan lo personal con lo colectivo. Aunque muchas historias giran en torno al duelo o a conflictos familiares, siempre está presente un pasado marcado por la violencia. No hace falta que los personajes hablen constantemente de ello, se percibe en el ambiente y en la manera en que afrontan sus vidas.
Si tuviera que destacar alguno por encima del resto, sería el último relato, Daisy Hill. Me ha parecido brillante, especialmente por la forma en que concluye. Reconozco que no conocía demasiado sobre The Troubles antes de esta lectura, y la decisión de incluir una larga lista de víctimas reales de la violencia en Irlanda del Norte me pareció un recurso muy poderoso. Nos obliga a los lectores a detenernos, incomodarnos y enfrentarnos a la dimensión real de unos acontecimientos que fácilmente podrían quedar reducidos a simples datos históricos. Es un final difícil de olvidar y que cambia la perspectiva desde la que observamos todo lo leído anteriormente.
En definitiva, una colección de relatos emotiva y muy humana. Aunque algunos cuentos me han llegado más que otros, me quedo con la capacidad de la autora para hablar sobre temas complejos desde historias íntimas y cercanas. Y, sobre todo, las consecuencias de la violencia sin perder nunca de vista a las personas que hay detrás de cada historia.
Como ocurre con muchas colecciones de relatos, algunos me han gustado más que otros, pero en general me ha parecido un debut muy interesante. Me ha gustado especialmente cómo la autora es capaz de abordar temas muy duros desde historias íntimas y humanas.
Uno de los aspectos que más he disfrutado es la forma en que los relatos conectan lo personal con lo colectivo. Aunque muchas historias giran en torno al duelo o a conflictos familiares, siempre está presente un pasado marcado por la violencia. No hace falta que los personajes hablen constantemente de ello, se percibe en el ambiente y en la manera en que afrontan sus vidas.
Si tuviera que destacar alguno por encima del resto, sería el último relato, Daisy Hill. Me ha parecido brillante, especialmente por la forma en que concluye. Reconozco que no conocía demasiado sobre The Troubles antes de esta lectura, y la decisión de incluir una larga lista de víctimas reales de la violencia en Irlanda del Norte me pareció un recurso muy poderoso. Nos obliga a los lectores a detenernos, incomodarnos y enfrentarnos a la dimensión real de unos acontecimientos que fácilmente podrían quedar reducidos a simples datos históricos. Es un final difícil de olvidar y que cambia la perspectiva desde la que observamos todo lo leído anteriormente.
En definitiva, una colección de relatos emotiva y muy humana. Aunque algunos cuentos me han llegado más que otros, me quedo con la capacidad de la autora para hablar sobre temas complejos desde historias íntimas y cercanas. Y, sobre todo, las consecuencias de la violencia sin perder nunca de vista a las personas que hay detrás de cada historia.
August 19, 2026
estoy en shock después de leer el último relato. en este librín se recopilan seis historias que hablan de la memoria, el silencio y la voluntad de afrontarlos. si a estas temáticas le añades un poco de historia reciente de irlanda del norte, mezclado con historias familiares y raíces desconocidas pues ya tienes el cóctel perfecto.
no podría decir que ha sido de mis libros de relatos favoritos. de hecho hay uno de ellos que no me ha gustado nada. pero tres de ellos (amalur, rusia y daisy hill) creo que los guardaré en mi memoria durante mucho tiempo. ahora quiero leer algún libro sobre la historia de irlanda
no podría decir que ha sido de mis libros de relatos favoritos. de hecho hay uno de ellos que no me ha gustado nada. pero tres de ellos (amalur, rusia y daisy hill) creo que los guardaré en mi memoria durante mucho tiempo. ahora quiero leer algún libro sobre la historia de irlanda
December 27, 2025
Thanks to NetGalley and Farrar, Straus and Giroux for providing me with an eARC.
I really wanted to like this one. I love short story collections -- I'm always impressed by how strong an impact such short prose can have on me. This one is about an important event in history -- Injustices against Northern Ireland by Britain. It is full of rage and sends an important message. But, the writing itself didn't resonate with me -- I just couldn't get into it. It just felt very clunky and all over the place. The sentence formation, PoV and tense were all mixed up and kept taking me out of the stories. The first and last one were strong but everything else in between I've already forgotten. The other stories, to me, also didn't match with the overall theme the book was going for. I think this might work better for people who have a personal connection to the subject matter in this book.
I really wanted to like this one. I love short story collections -- I'm always impressed by how strong an impact such short prose can have on me. This one is about an important event in history -- Injustices against Northern Ireland by Britain. It is full of rage and sends an important message. But, the writing itself didn't resonate with me -- I just couldn't get into it. It just felt very clunky and all over the place. The sentence formation, PoV and tense were all mixed up and kept taking me out of the stories. The first and last one were strong but everything else in between I've already forgotten. The other stories, to me, also didn't match with the overall theme the book was going for. I think this might work better for people who have a personal connection to the subject matter in this book.
February 3, 2026
With the exception of "Novena," each of these stories was deeply affecting, with insight into characters wounded by the sectarian battles and state violence in Northern Ireland. The stories reminded me of the short story collection Heart Lamp, which I read last year, in their immediacy, the lack of explanation, and the use of dialect.
September 21, 2025
i've heard essentially nothing but good stuff about this. sometimes i hate to be a contrary fuck, so you know...i guess just bc i didn't like this at all doesn't mean other people won't. clearly, people are getting a lot out of this.
i will say that i enjoyed the first story, though. it's one of the highlights of the collection and it's not that i think the writer doesn't have promise. they clearly do. there was a great curation of emotion there and it's an interesting premise for a short story collection, rallying stories of people "still here", those who remained in NI even during the troubles. the anonymous author was raised in the post-good friday agreement world and i mean...that's what i remember to. they've clearly tried to look at the legacy of trauma in the north through their characters, how trauma spreads through bloodlines and also interrogate an unwillingness to speak of it. i get it.
but i thought it was done clumsily or, sometimes, even badly. the first story is pretty good, although i found some of the repetition a bit concerning. this became more of a prevalent concern throughout. obviously when you're circling a theme, there are things you pull across. but i cannot believe that the first and last stories of this have essentially the same plotline (someone was sick, they've experienced state and sectarian violence, this sickness is both metaphorical and literal, the families are reluctant to speak of it). i think it's lazy to allow something like this to happen structurally. it really cheapens it. they're much too similar.
i thought a bit about how to phrase this, but i guess i just have to come out and say it: i really, really disliked that the final story gave way to a listing, called "the truth", which chronicled those killed during the troubles. this is moving. this is particularly politically poignant considering the author makes a concentrated effort to draw attention to the way the state insists upon relieving itself of any real kind of justice for many of the victims and survivors. in isolation, this is important work and i think those people deserve the respect and empathy and the fierce passion this book is trying to give to them. but i think it's a really cheap thing to do, at the same time. the preceding story just wasn't good and i didn't personally like that more wasn't done to fold those events into an actual narrative, which it seems like is the point of the book. am i being too harsh? maybe. these events are important to memorialise, as are those people's lives. but it's being done in a really mediocre short story collection which could have made its point better by focusing on being tighter and more emotive. ní chuinn is saying that their stories should be central to our understanding of "post-conflict northern ireland", but in doing so falls away from the actual act of literature and turns to a recitation? it just doesn't sit well with me and it felt confused. i didn't get it. this seems very much like a ymmv thing, i suppose, and maybe it sits better if you don't know about NI. i can't really speak to that but anyway.
writing is political and for this author that's clearly very important. they're trying to explore several themes, but some of the stories just miss the mark entirely. i was excited after the first one, way less excited after the second, and i had almost no hope of liking this by the end of the third. the dialogue needs work. the character work is fine. i don't like the structure of this whatsoever. i rolled my eyes a few times when something just felt too close to something else i just read.
not for me. i don't think i'd read their other works, but never say never.
i will say that i enjoyed the first story, though. it's one of the highlights of the collection and it's not that i think the writer doesn't have promise. they clearly do. there was a great curation of emotion there and it's an interesting premise for a short story collection, rallying stories of people "still here", those who remained in NI even during the troubles. the anonymous author was raised in the post-good friday agreement world and i mean...that's what i remember to. they've clearly tried to look at the legacy of trauma in the north through their characters, how trauma spreads through bloodlines and also interrogate an unwillingness to speak of it. i get it.
but i thought it was done clumsily or, sometimes, even badly. the first story is pretty good, although i found some of the repetition a bit concerning. this became more of a prevalent concern throughout. obviously when you're circling a theme, there are things you pull across. but i cannot believe that the first and last stories of this have essentially the same plotline (someone was sick, they've experienced state and sectarian violence, this sickness is both metaphorical and literal, the families are reluctant to speak of it). i think it's lazy to allow something like this to happen structurally. it really cheapens it. they're much too similar.
i thought a bit about how to phrase this, but i guess i just have to come out and say it: i really, really disliked that the final story gave way to a listing, called "the truth", which chronicled those killed during the troubles. this is moving. this is particularly politically poignant considering the author makes a concentrated effort to draw attention to the way the state insists upon relieving itself of any real kind of justice for many of the victims and survivors. in isolation, this is important work and i think those people deserve the respect and empathy and the fierce passion this book is trying to give to them. but i think it's a really cheap thing to do, at the same time. the preceding story just wasn't good and i didn't personally like that more wasn't done to fold those events into an actual narrative, which it seems like is the point of the book. am i being too harsh? maybe. these events are important to memorialise, as are those people's lives. but it's being done in a really mediocre short story collection which could have made its point better by focusing on being tighter and more emotive. ní chuinn is saying that their stories should be central to our understanding of "post-conflict northern ireland", but in doing so falls away from the actual act of literature and turns to a recitation? it just doesn't sit well with me and it felt confused. i didn't get it. this seems very much like a ymmv thing, i suppose, and maybe it sits better if you don't know about NI. i can't really speak to that but anyway.
writing is political and for this author that's clearly very important. they're trying to explore several themes, but some of the stories just miss the mark entirely. i was excited after the first one, way less excited after the second, and i had almost no hope of liking this by the end of the third. the dialogue needs work. the character work is fine. i don't like the structure of this whatsoever. i rolled my eyes a few times when something just felt too close to something else i just read.
not for me. i don't think i'd read their other works, but never say never.
October 26, 2025
Feels contemporary in a way little other writing coming out of Ireland at present doesn't - captures our uncertain moment in which the docile pacification which characterised the 1990s and 2000s has finally died completely, but has yet to be replaced with a new path for the future in a moment where global tendencies towards conspiracism and catastrophe sit alongside the traumas of Irish history.
August 4, 2025
that last story was mesmerising and haunting. chills.
July 2, 2026
I have mixed feelings about folks with whom I have little context sharing unsought recos with me. On this occasion, I owe the Foyles employee an apology. Ní Chuinn’s got their grip on me, and Every One Still Here is brilliant, if brilliant can semantically reach indicting.
Does the author have a background in poetry? I found the sentences’ rhythms compelling, the bracketing and gapping commas. This occasionally reminded me of McBride’s writing in The City Changes Its Face. I was glad this was used throughout the six stories along with the colloquial language. Perhaps this contributed to Ní Chuinn’s ability to create a range of tones successfully. They display goodness through their tender portrayal of their place and people, even as their unflinching righteousness expounds individual and corporate transgressions.
I may have enjoyed Amalur and Russia less than the other stories, only because the premises (so, not execution) were more familiar. The final piece, Daisy Hill, made me recall Sharpe’s Ordinary Notes wherein she objects to a filmmaker’s project. The short film—I can’t recall if it was a documentary—compiled clips of Black Americans dying from anti-Black violence. The filmmaker subjected Sharpe and other viewers to watch and experience this on-screen violence without receiving a content warning, without consenting. I’m not saying this is what Ní Chuinn did, nor am I suggesting I am Sharpe in this scenario (I’m not Northern Irish). I only mean this came to mind, even as I felt it important to remember the Northern Irish people whom the British soldier murdered in Ní Chuinn’s deeply moving close.
In sum, the compilation bewildered me, and the opening story, We All Go, has me slack-jawed. I’ve read it twice now, and I can’t get it out of my head.
Does the author have a background in poetry? I found the sentences’ rhythms compelling, the bracketing and gapping commas. This occasionally reminded me of McBride’s writing in The City Changes Its Face. I was glad this was used throughout the six stories along with the colloquial language. Perhaps this contributed to Ní Chuinn’s ability to create a range of tones successfully. They display goodness through their tender portrayal of their place and people, even as their unflinching righteousness expounds individual and corporate transgressions.
I may have enjoyed Amalur and Russia less than the other stories, only because the premises (so, not execution) were more familiar. The final piece, Daisy Hill, made me recall Sharpe’s Ordinary Notes wherein she objects to a filmmaker’s project. The short film—I can’t recall if it was a documentary—compiled clips of Black Americans dying from anti-Black violence. The filmmaker subjected Sharpe and other viewers to watch and experience this on-screen violence without receiving a content warning, without consenting. I’m not saying this is what Ní Chuinn did, nor am I suggesting I am Sharpe in this scenario (I’m not Northern Irish). I only mean this came to mind, even as I felt it important to remember the Northern Irish people whom the British soldier murdered in Ní Chuinn’s deeply moving close.
In sum, the compilation bewildered me, and the opening story, We All Go, has me slack-jawed. I’ve read it twice now, and I can’t get it out of my head.
May 24, 2026
Brilliant short stories about ordinary people. Intergenerational trauma, state violence, belonging, coping with infertility, one story is partly about the ethics of displaying human remains in museums. The strongest and most devastating story is the final one ‘Daisy Hill’ with its final section ‘The truth’ listing British atrocities against civilians. A powerful read.
July 10, 2026
Short stories from Northern Ireland during The Troubles. Regular people losing jobs, trying to get pregnant, trying to create meaning while navigating life during a period of violence and severe discrimination.
June 28, 2025
What an impressive debut! This is a collection of short stories and each of them feels so well realised & actualised.
Now this is sad. Every last story is sad! But they are also compassionate & there is occasional hint of humour. Being that Ní Chuinn is from the North it is local (complimentary). But then the last few pages are a sucker punch.
Cannot wait to read more from this author.
*read via NetGalley
Now this is sad. Every last story is sad! But they are also compassionate & there is occasional hint of humour. Being that Ní Chuinn is from the North it is local (complimentary). But then the last few pages are a sucker punch.
Cannot wait to read more from this author.
*read via NetGalley
September 13, 2025
And again – one of those artsy ones I just couldn’t get into. Maybe I’m missing some background in modern Irish history, but most of these didn’t resonate at all. A few I couldn’t even figure out what the point was. The tone felt distant, the structure confusing, and overall it just left me cold. Not for me.
September 28, 2025
ah lads this was bloody fantastic
July 28, 2025
I loved this so much. So viscerally emotive. I would be very excited to read anything else from this author.
October 29, 2025
really remarkable, even more so as a debut
April 25, 2026
This is how to use words. Both phenomenal and devastating.
October 13, 2026
Tot un recull d' històries en les que els personatges em feien pensar en escenes de pel.lícules on algú mira un espai interior ple de calidesa i sap que no hi entrarà mai.
I acabat el llibre, he entès que no, no hi entraran mai.
Irlanda del Nord.
Impactant.
Una trajectòria a seguir.
I acabat el llibre, he entès que no, no hi entraran mai.
Irlanda del Nord.
Impactant.
Una trajectòria a seguir.
April 4, 2026
incredible collection, i was completely enthralled by the writing style and these stories are more thematically powerful and emotionally devastating than most novels.
July 17, 2025
3.5 Stars – Quiet and Emotional
Every One Still Here is a gentle, emotional story about grief, memory, and holding on to those we’ve lost. The writing is soft and reflective, with some beautifully written moments.
It does move a little slowly in parts, and the story can feel a bit aimless at times, but the emotion behind it is strong and real.
A good read for fans of quiet, thoughtful fiction.
Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Every One Still Here is a gentle, emotional story about grief, memory, and holding on to those we’ve lost. The writing is soft and reflective, with some beautifully written moments.
It does move a little slowly in parts, and the story can feel a bit aimless at times, but the emotion behind it is strong and real.
A good read for fans of quiet, thoughtful fiction.
Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the ARC in exchange for an honest review.
2026
September 4, 2025📱 Thank you to NetGalley and FSG Originals
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