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I Could Live Here by Ellen Barone Review: A Decade of Nomadic Midlife Reinvention
Ellen Barone's debut memoir chronicles the decade-long nomadic journey she and her husband Hank embarked on after their rented house sold unexpectedly in 2011 — a planned one-year experiment through four countries that quietly expanded into a way of life spanning multiple continents. Published in 2023 by Abhuta, the memoir is a candid, open-hearted account of long-stay travel, shifting notions of home, and the personal transformation that comes from choosing impermanence over rootedness.
LuvemBooks Verdict
Best for
Midlife readers contemplating long-term travel abroad, expatriate life, or slow travel who want a memoir that interrogates what home and belonging genuinely mean — not just where to go next.
Worth it if
You're drawn to travel memoirs that move beyond itinerary into real philosophical inquiry about identity and place, and you want a decade-long longitudinal perspective rather than a short-trip snapshot.
Skip if
You're looking for a gritty, unvarnished account of financial hardship or logistical chaos on the road — the narrative arc here is reflective and inward rather than raw, and the premise assumes a degree of freedom (no fixed employment, no school-age children) that not all midlife readers will share.
What readers & critics say
Publisher and author framing at ellenbarone.com and icouldliveherebook.com describe the memoir as "intimate and revelatory" and "an open-hearted chronicle of change and adaptation." Reader voices on amazon.ca characterise it as going "beyond a travel memoir," praising its exploration of love, connection, and loss and calling it "an encouraging read" that motivated action.
Sources: ellenbarone.com, icouldliveherebook.com, amazon.ca4.4from 78 Amazon ratings— reader ratings, not a LuvemBooks score
In This Review
- What Works & What Doesn't
- What the Book Is and What It Argues
- The Premise and Its Personal Depth
- Barone's Voice and Background
- Genuine Limitations and Who May Find It Frustrating
- Who This Book Is For
What Works & What Doesn't
What Works
- Grounded in a genuine decade-long nomadic journey beginning in 2011, giving the memoir rare longitudinal depth rather than a snapshot of short-term travel
- Moves beyond itinerary into genuine philosophical inquiry — Barone's central argument that home is 'a feeling, a relationship, a way of being in the world' is tested through sustained real experience
- Barone brings fifteen years of professional travel writing to her debut memoir, producing a voice that is interior and reflective rather than simply descriptive
- Covers the full arc of midlife transformation — the couple's shifting bonds to place, to each other, and to the idea of reinvention — across a structured, thematically cohesive narrative
What Doesn't
- The premise depends on a degree of freedom — no fixed employment, no school-age children, a life that can be uprooted on short notice — that many midlife readers will not share, which may limit the sense of practical relatability
- As a debut from an independent press, the book has not yet accumulated broad critical reception, leaving readers with fewer external reference points than they might have for a more widely reviewed title
A travel memoir of genuine scope and personal stakes, I Could Live Here earns its place on the shelf not through wanderlust fantasy but through the slower, harder work of asking what home actually means.
What the Book Is and What It Argues
I Could Live Here: A Travel Memoir of Home and Belonging by Ellen Barone front cover
I Could Live Here: A Travel Memoir of Home and Belonging begins with a practical disruption: the rented house Ellen Barone and her husband, Hank, share is sold, and rather than simply find another, they decide to spend a year traveling through four countries, beginning in Mexico. That one year becomes two, then five, then ten. Barone's memoir — her first book, published in 2023 by Abhuta — traces the arc of that expanding journey as the couple lives as long-term travelers, staying months at a time in temporary homes across new continents, cultures, and languages. The book's central argument is not a celebration of restlessness for its own sake but a genuine philosophical reckoning: as Barone writes, "home isn't always a place — it's a feeling, a relationship, a way of being in the world." That thesis, tested over a decade of real lived experience, gives the memoir its backbone.
“home isn't always a place — it's a feeling, a relationship, a way of being in the world.”
The Premise and Its Personal Depth
What distinguishes this memoir from the broader genre of travel writing is its insistence on the ordinary alongside the adventurous. Barone documents not only the dramatic geography of living across continents but the quieter textures of settling into temporary spaces, forming lasting friendships, and navigating the paradoxes of belonging when you have no fixed address. The journey began in 2011 and reshaped, by Barone's own account, everything she and Hank thought they understood about connection and place. The book is framed as an open-hearted chronicle of midlife transformation — a term that carries weight here, since the decision to leave conventional domestic life behind was not made in youth but at a stage when most people are consolidating, not dismantling.
Barone's Voice and Background
Barone brings genuine professional credibility to the page. An independent creator since 1998, she spent fifteen years specializing in travel and tourism writing before living the nomadic life she now describes. That background shapes the memoir's sensibility: this is not a first-time traveler overwhelmed by novelty, but a writer who knows the genre well enough to push past postcard description toward something more interior. The book is described by the author and publisher alike as "intimate," and the structure — organized around the couple's shifting sense of home, sometimes tethered to place, sometimes to each other, sometimes simply to the freedom of reinvention — reflects that inward orientation. The prose, as the book's own framing signals, is designed to carry emotional texture, not just itinerary.
Genuine Limitations and Who May Find It Frustrating
The memoir's strengths are also, for some readers, its constraints. I Could Live Here is anchored in a specific kind of midlife freedom — two people without the tethers of school-age children, fixed employment, or immovable obligations — and readers whose lives do not permit that latitude may find the premise aspirational to the point of distance. The journey's origin story (a house sale prompting an international adventure) is structurally tidy in a way that real life rarely is, and readers seeking a rawer account of financial precarity or logistical failure may find the narrative arc smoother than their own questions demand. Additionally, as a debut memoir from an independent press, I Could Live Here has not yet accumulated the kind of wide critical reception that would allow confident attribution of its standing in the genre — readers accustomed to relying on major-outlet consensus may be navigating with less external guidance than usual.
Who This Book Is For
I Could Live Here is most squarely aimed at readers who are curious about long-term travel abroad, contemplating a life less anchored to a single place, or drawn to memoirs that treat midlife not as a crisis but as genuine opportunity for reinvention. It speaks to the growing community of people considering expatriate life, slow travel, or a renegotiation of what home means after a major life change. Barone's decade of experience — beginning in 2011, spanning multiple countries and continents — gives the memoir a longitudinal credibility that shorter travel narratives cannot claim. For readers drawn to the intersection of place, identity, and belonging, this is a memoir with a real argument to make and the lived experience to back it up.
Frequently Asked Questions
is I Could Live Here: A Travel Memoir of Home and Belonging by Ellen Barone worth reading
It depends on what you're looking for in a travel memoir. The reviewer says it earns its place "not through wanderlust fantasy but through the slower, harder work of asking what home actually means," which makes it a strong pick if you want something more philosophical than adventurous — but if you're after raw logistical drama or financial struggle, the narrative arc may feel smoother than you'd like.
What is this book actually about
It's the true story of how Ellen Barone and her husband Hank turned an unexpected house sale in 2011 into a decade-long nomadic life across multiple continents, starting with a planned one-year trip through four countries that quietly became a way of life. The memoir's core argument, in Barone's own words, is that "home isn't always a place — it's a feeling, a relationship, a way of being in the world," tested through ten years of long-stay travel and shifting belonging.
Is this book good for people thinking about expat life or slow travel
It's pretty much tailor-made for that audience. The reviewer specifically says the book "speaks to the growing community of people considering expatriate life, slow travel, or a renegotiation of what home means after a major life change," and Barone's decade of experience — beginning in 2011 and spanning multiple countries — gives it a longitudinal credibility that shorter travel narratives can't match.
Does this book feel relatable if you have kids or a regular job
Honestly, that's one of its real limitations. The reviewer notes the book is "anchored in a specific kind of midlife freedom — two people without the tethers of school-age children, fixed employment, or immovable obligations" — so if your life doesn't allow that kind of latitude, the premise may feel aspirational to the point of distance rather than genuinely actionable.
What makes this book different from other travel memoirs
The reviewer highlights its "insistence on the ordinary alongside the adventurous" — Barone isn't just cataloguing dramatic landscapes but documenting the quieter textures of settling into temporary spaces, forming lasting friendships, and navigating belonging without a fixed address. Her fifteen years of professional travel and tourism writing before living this life also means she pushes past postcard description toward something more interior.
Is this book more of an inspirational feel-good read or does it get into the hard stuff
It leans more toward open-hearted and philosophical than gritty or confessional. The reviewer notes it's framed as a midlife transformation story and that the origin story — a house sale prompting an international adventure — is "structurally tidy in a way that real life rarely is," so readers hoping for a rawer account of precarity or logistical failure may find it doesn't go as deep into the difficult side as they'd want.
How well known is this book — is it a big deal in the genre
It's a 2023 debut from an independent press called Abhuta, so it hasn't yet built the wide critical reception of more established travel memoirs. The reviewer is candid that readers "accustomed to relying on major-outlet consensus may be navigating with less external guidance than usual," though they do argue the book has real merit for the right audience.
Sources & Further Reading
The key facts and claims in this review are grounded in the retrieved, verified sources listed below.
- Cited in this review
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icouldliveherebook.com
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- 3
ellenbarone.com
- Further reading
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ellenbarone-new.squarespace.com
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