Why this book, and why now
Some books arrive at exactly the right moment. Migrants: The Story of Us All is one of those.
This month at Almost Local, we’re reading Migrants because it puts words, history, and humanity around something many of us feel deeply but struggle to explain: the experience of moving, leaving, arriving, and becoming something new in between.
What struck me most is how the book reminds us that migration isn’t a modern phenomenon, nor a personal failure or exception. Migration is not “their story” or “our story.” It is the human story.
What the book is really about
At its core, Migrants: The Story of Us All reframes migration as a shared human condition.
It explores how movement — across borders, landscapes, languages, and identities — has shaped who we are as individuals and as societies. Long before passports, visas, and labels, humans were already migrating in search of safety, belonging, food, opportunity, and meaning.
For those of us living abroad, the book offers something powerful: context. It gently takes the weight off our shoulders and places it back into history, where it belongs.
The author behind the book: writing as a migrant
One important layer I want to add — because it changes how this book lands — is this: the author is a migrant and a nomad themselves.
As I was reading, it became clear that this book doesn’t feel like it was written about migration from a distance. It feels like it started as a form of self-explanation. Almost like asking:
Why do I feel this way? Why have humans always moved? Why does belonging feel so complicated?
Instead of answering those questions with abstract ideas or personal anecdotes alone, the author turns to history, facts, and collective memory. There’s something grounding about that. It’s not poetic escapism — it’s reality-backed reflection.
That’s what makes the book so compelling: it’s an exploration of identity through truth, not metaphors.
What resonated with me as an Almost Local
Reading this book as someone who has lived in multiple countries, I found myself underlining sentences that felt uncomfortably familiar.
Not because the stories matched my own exactly — but because the emotions did.
- The feeling of being shaped by more than one place
- The quiet grief of what is left behind
- The creativity and resilience that emerge when you start again
- The in-between identity that doesn’t fit neatly into one label
The book helped me see that feeling “almost local” is not a contradiction. It’s a continuation of a very old human pattern.
A fluid world: before passports, borders, and permanence
At one point in the book, I paused and reflected on something that feels almost unbelievable today:
Passports did not always exist.
There was a time when the world was far more fluid. People moved without documents, without visas, without a fixed address. No tax numbers. No proof of residence. No permanent base.
I know — it sounds almost utopian, like something out of a John Lennon song. But it wasn’t a fantasy. It was reality.
Humans moved because that’s what life required. Seasons changed. Resources shifted. Communities evolved.
This perspective reframes modern migration struggles. It reminds us that rigidity is relatively new — and movement is ancient.
Migration as identity, not just movement
One of the most important takeaways from Migrants is that migration isn’t just about geography.
It’s about identity.
Moving countries often forces us to renegotiate who we are:
- How we speak
- How we work
- How we connect
- How we see ourselves
This resonates deeply with the Almost Local community, where many of us live between cultures, accents, routines, and definitions of home.
The book doesn’t try to simplify this experience. Instead, it validates its complexity.
Migration, minimalism, and the weight of possessions
Another reflection this book sparked for me — and something I’m personally passionate about — is minimalism.
Historically, migrants carried very little. Not because minimalism was trendy, but because it was necessary.
You couldn’t move endlessly while dragging furniture, appliances, or entire households behind you. There was no fixed point, no storage unit, no container shipment waiting on the other side.
And it made me wonder:
Are today’s migrants and nomads being invited — gently or forcefully — to rethink our relationship with stuff?
I see so many people moving countries, continents even, trying to carry everything with them:
- Beds
- Washing machines
- Cars
- Boxes of things we rarely use
I can’t help but ask myself: Is this lifestyle trying to teach us something?
Maybe that security doesn’t live in objects.
Maybe belonging doesn’t come from accumulation.
Maybe letting go is part of the journey.
Why this book matters for expats, migrants, and newcomers
If you’ve ever:
- Questioned where “home” really is
- Felt both grateful and unsettled at the same time
- Struggled to explain your story to people who never left
- Wondered if feeling divided is something to fix
This book offers reassurance.
It doesn’t provide quick answers, but it does offer perspective — and sometimes, perspective is exactly what we need.
A question to sit with this month
As we read and reflect together, I invite you to sit with this question:
How has movement shaped who you are today — even if you didn’t choose it?
There’s no right answer. Just an honest one.
Let’s keep the conversation going
Throughout the month, we’ll be referencing Migrants: The Story of Us All across the podcast, social posts, and community conversations.
If you’re reading along, I’d love to hear from you:
- What passage stayed with you?
- What surprised you?
- What felt uncomfortably true?
Because at Almost Local, we believe that stories — especially shared ones — help us feel a little less alone.
Home, after all, has always been something humans carry with them.