I loved the first story the writing the characters.The authors style of writing is very addictive and I enjoyed each thoughtful story.#NetGalley #granata.

This is a very impressive first collection of stories from an emerging Irish talent. There were definitely stronger stories in the collection and in particular the last one which blew me away and which I have not stopped thinking about since. I would say they are slightly experimental but very readable and engaging. I’m excited to follow this authors career and see what they do next.

Every One Still Here marks an arresting debut from Liadán Ní Chuinn — a collection of six interlinked stories that navigate the quiet aftershocks of political conflict, personal loss, and intergenerational trauma. Set against the backdrop of Northern Ireland, these stories are meditative yet piercing, rendering the emotional terrain of post-conflict lives with remarkable clarity and restraint.

Ní Chuinn writes with a rare emotional acuity, her prose spare yet luminous, attentive to the unsaid as much as the spoken. Characters emerge from fractured pasts and uncertain presents, each one tethered by memory, silence, or grief. What connects them is not plot, but a mood — a shared atmosphere of reckoning and resilience.

This is not a collection that seeks easy resolution. Instead, it offers subtle revelations, echoing the persistent hum of lives still marked by what has been endured. *Every One Still Here* is a quietly devastating, beautifully controlled meditation on presence, survival, and the traces left behind.

This debut collection by Liadan Ní Chuinn contains six stories, all quietly intense, political, and through-and-through Irish. I liked the stories, though it wasn't my exact preference; this collection felt much lengthier than its 160 pages, and I didn't find myself picking it up as often compared to my other reads.

Thank you to NetGalley and Granta Publications for the ARC.

"What would we have had if you hadn’t needed more?"

A collection of six short stories, it awes me how much sense of purpose is packed unyieldingly within Every One Still Here.

The short stories here do not attempt to have so much action in a few paragraphs. Rather the opposite, it feel like we were given a peek into people’s inner lives, an episode of their day, their innermost struggles, and had we hang on a little bit more, they would still be there, likely not one silver bullet would suddenly undone their struggles, no grand arc, and while we move on to the next stories, they would still be there.

It deals with the theme of family, of where we come from. How experience and trauma are passed down to generations. The tension of how much we are defined by that experience, and how much we can separate ourselves from it. It wrestles with guilt, shame, and anger, lost in direction, not knowing where it’s supposed to go.

In We All Go, a university student is dealing with a sense of disconnect within his family and what he does, of questioning. Maybe, if we had known more, we would come to understand why we are the way we are?

In Amalur, one’s yearning for a whole, ideal family somewhat obscures the very fact that said ideal family had its own failings. Or not. If you were that lonely and alone in your home, wouldn’t you want to also have an escape of sorts?

Russia – probably my favourite - plays in two parallel narratives, of a man seeing a physics and a museum dealing with a sudden backlash and protest of their collection. It is a subtle study of how one would deal with personal guilt, and how an institution would deal with it. It also contains an exchange of what I would imagine is critical to the book: how much of ourselves can we attribute to where we come from?

The last one, Daisy Hill, is the closest to the first story in terms of how they explicitly discuss Northern Ireland and the pain and trauma inflicted during the Troubles. A 23-year-old Rowan visits his uncle John, who’s dealing with the death of his wife. Similar to Jackie in the first story, Rowan here is also questioning. TW: It contains a list of victims and how they were murdered by the British soldiers. It reminds me of an Indonesian band’s song called Jingga by Efek Rumah Kaca, which lists the victims of people’s disappearance between 1997-1998, and the date of their disappearances. To say, or perhaps scream, rejection to forget.

In 148 pages, Liadan Ní Chuinn’s debut is not one to miss.

This is a really impressive first collection of short stories. While quite a short book, its range is impressive in terms of subject matter, narratorial perspective (mostly young, different genders) and location. The first story, 'We All Go", and the last, "Daisy Hill" are the most clearly focused on Northern Ireland and the troubles and perhaps the most powerful. "We All Go" is the more subtle of the two, "Daisy Hill' concludes with an extended, and affecting, list of victims. In between there are stories of young relationships coming apart ("Amalur") and lives falling into disappointment and self-delusion ("Novena"). This is not to say the stories are depressing - Liadan Ni Chuinn has a lightness of touch and capacity for insight that keeps stopping you short or pulling the proverbial from under your feet e.g. "I liked my boyfriend very much [...] but he was just one of the piecers of that family I adored. It was his whole family I loved. We didn't work without his family, that was the truth" ("Amalur") and the end of the same story. A splendid book.

This is a collection of short stories. It is hard to believe it is a debut.
Amalur was my favourite.
Second favourite was We All Go, but I am having a difficult time choosing my favourites, as the writing by the author is strong, touching, nuanced and there are overarching themes that connect the stories, so, you can pick favourites, but you will likely enjoy them all to different extents.
I also found the themes and topics to be quite refreshing.
Can't wait to see what the author does next.

I loved the first story and Jackie’s narrative, but after the stories started to change I got a little confused. The writing was so lovely and I enjoyed the settings and background of each story.

Every One Still Here by Liadan Ní Chuinn is a well-written and compelling collection of short stories with deftly observed characterization. I think the first story was my favourite.

The stripped-down almost flat prose which characterises this powerful debut collection from young Northern Irish writer Liadan Ní Chuinn makes it all the more effective. Loss, anger, grief and disappointment run through the six stories that make it up, several of which are linked by the legacy of the Troubles, most evident in the first and final lengthy pieces. Intergenerational trauma is explored in ‘We All Go’ through Jackie whose visceral memories of his father’s decline are interwoven with his questioning of the past while Rowan is faced with his cousin’s fury in ‘Daisy Hill’ when he raises their family’s experience and its effects on both them and their parents. Difficult to read, at times, this is a striking collection, thoroughly deserving of the praise heaped upon it by the likes of Wendy Erskine and Louise Kennedy.