Born storytellers

“We’re a narrative species,” said the scientist on Radio 4 the other day. “We understand the world in terms of stories.” He was talking about the MMR vaccine and how the stories of danger that have grown up around it have deterred many parents from vaccinating their children against harmful diseases.

Depending on one’s view, one might argue that this is a case where our narrative instinct has not served us well. And of course, stories are used for cynical and manipulative purposes all the time, as we will doubtless be reminded between now and 8 June—just in case the fact of our living in a ‘post-truth’ era should not yet have sunk in.

If we truly are a narrative species, then stories are a fundamental part of our development. They have the power to shape us like nothing else. Nearly twenty years ago I chaired the judging panel for the Scottish Children’s Book Awards. At the ceremony I spoke about the importance of reading fiction. “A child’s imagination is the most precious thing it possesses,” I argued. “You can take away almost everything else, but so long as a child has a healthy imagination, it stands a good chance of surviving, of becoming a reasonably well balanced, thinking individual that will make its way in the adult world.

“And there is nothing—absolutely nothing—that feeds a child’s imagination like good writing. [I spoke of ‘writing’ but I could very well have used ‘storytelling’ instead.] From good writing more than anything else, children gain a sense of right and wrong—because it comes with no strings attached. From good writing they gain an understanding of the world around them, a very real sense that they’re not alone. And so they find the confidence to engage and participate.

“Children who read good writing stand the best chance of rising above the floodtide of cultural mediocrity that threatens to dumb down our society. And they have the means to escape the moral and cultural vacuum that can—at its most terrifying—give rise to events such as we saw recently at the Columbine High School in Colorado.”

That was 1999. Much more recently, the author Neil Gaiman has spoken of how he listened to a talk about the building of private prisons in the United States—a huge growth industry. The prison industry needed to plan how it would grow in future. How many cells would be needed, for example? How many prisoners would there be fifteen years hence? They found they could easily predict what was required by using a simple algorithm based on the percentage of 10- and 11-year-olds that couldn’t read; and certainly couldn’t read for pleasure.

It’s a startling equation, with its suggestion that the absence of stories can create sociopaths. But it’s one that may well make sense to anyone who has watched the face of a child lost in a book. If one could see inside the child, I imagine there would be the glow of wholesome, healthy connections being made between head and heart. The neuroscientific evidence increasingly confirms that stories promote wellbeing and the ability to empathise.

What it doesn’t yet tell us, as far as I know, is whether those connections that take place, those neural pathways that are opened or re-routed when we read or hear stories, can also help us to distinguish between the authentic and the fake. I pray they can. We’ve never needed that ability more than we do today.

There are still places on our summer residential, Life Stories In The Sun, at Cortijo Romero, Spain’s leading alternative holiday centre, 17-24 June.  Join us for a relaxing and nourishing week sharing stories in the glorious setting of the Alpujarras. More information here.

About Jamie Jauncey

Author, writer, blogger, facilitator, musician, co-founder of Dark Angels and The Stories We Tell
This entry was posted in Empathy, Personal development, Stories and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to Born storytellers

  1. Carolyn S says:

    True. Plain and simple. There was a study done (maybe you DNA find it cause it would add to this) amongst college kids that showed a connection between reading and depression, and ability to empathise. (I think).

  2. John Gilruth says:

    Hi Jamie,
    That’s one of the strongest connection narratives between literacy and future involvement in the criminal justice system I’ve ever read . We need to read it as do Local Authorities and representatives of national government. With your permission, I’d like to forward this to both ?

    Keep it going


    Sent from my iPhone

  3. James Robertson says:

    Couldn’t agree more with John Gilruth. Additionally, one of the clearest routes to prisoners not re-offending is to improve their literacy and to engage them with reading. Prisoners who read, especially prisoners who read fiction, also learn that ‘they are not alone’. And prisoners who are read to, as a group, can even become like the children they once were, arms folded, heads down on desks, taken into some other imaginary world – perhaps better, perhaps worse than the one they are in, but different – by a story.

  4. wrbcg says:

    Having worked on, and managed, a literacy project I know how handicapping not being able to read is. While innumeracy is seemingly acceptable in our society (it’s ok not to be good at maths), illiteracy is seen as shameful. Though people with poor literacy develop strategies to hide it and to get by in a text dominated society, they are excluded from all but the most basic employment, from which, just to make ends meet, they sometimes turn to crime.

    Having worked with ex-offenders (and briefly in prison), I have seen this link between incarceration and illiteracy, especially in young males, who often have a poor self-image which they have tried to salve with drugs and alcohol. Yet, very few of them are actually sociopaths.

    Having also been part of a “storytelling” group, in which the telling (and retelling) of stoies had to be done without recourse to notes, I know how powerful and entertaining oral storytelling can be.

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