Royston Reflection 2

“Narrative analysis is an activity of cultural analysis.”

            The statement by Mieke Bal can be read fruitfully in two ways: “narrative analysis is an activity of analyzing the culture that produced the narrative” and “narrative analysis is an activity of analyzing one’s own culture.”  These two readings are not mutually exclusive, and indeed, Bal’s “true” meaning may be found in reading her statement both ways at once.  If narrative provides an avenue by which one culture can come into contact with another, then narrative analysis can be the act of analyzing the intersection of those two (or more) cultures.

            At its most basic level, narrative analysis identifies some of the values held by the culture that produced the narrative in question.  Cinderella’s ultimate fate, happy marriage to royalty in a castle, speaks volumes about the culture that produced it.  Royalty is the ideal.  That the prince marries the common Cinderella alludes to another cultural value.  Royalty is still connected with the common class, and indeed may need periodic injections of common blood to maintain its vitality.  Isn’t that our hope for Kate?  That her fresh genes will counteract the royal trend towards frog eyes and weak chins?

            That simple, and admittedly juvenile analysis of Cinderella in turn speaks volumes about my own culture.  That I identify “royalty=ideal” as an aspect of the culture that produced Cinderella implies that it is not an aspect of my own because if it was, I might not identify it at all, instead seeing it as some universal constant not worth mentioning.  But what speaks even more about my own culture is the way in which I express it, my discourse.  My irreverence speaks to my culture’s disregard for the entire institute of royalty and its attendant castles.

            And it is at the level of discourse that the narrative speaks more about the culture that produced it as well.  There is a singular Cinderella fabula, but there are many Cinderella stories made by many different cultures, each with its own subtle and not so subtle changes from the “original.”  And the ways in which these different “versions” differ from one another say a great deal about what the cultures that produce them found valuable in Cinderella’s tale.

           And how we identify and speak about those differences says a great deal about our own culture.  This may seem circular, and perhaps it is, but I prefer to visualize it as centrifugal, allowing us to separate and examine different elements like so much plasma and platelets.

Downs Reflection- Week 3

"The world is a set of stories which must be chosen among."

  After thinking about our other readings this week, I have to say I agree with Fisher here. I'm not sure we could escape the narrative (as defined by Abbott) if we tried. Sitting here, my windows are open--it's a beautiful day. My facebook feed is of snow. In this way, I am a part of that narrative. I could choose not to be; to isolate myself from the story (I can quit anytime I want?) but then I wouldn't know the story. I could travel through space and time like Abbott describes, or do the internal/external work Todorov explores. We can edit our everyday. In this way, I think we choose. 
  However, there are two ideas here that I'm not so certain about. First, that there is a world made up of a set of stories and second that we must choose among them. But isn't that everything in the quote? Not yet! Maybe I have my own world and I have constructed it; it may be a set of stories, but they're constantly in flux with other stories and with each other. I think we have to watch out for static implications. If narrative is story+ narrative discourse, can't we also break narrative discourse down to the way the story is told to us and interpreted by us?
  The second idea that we must choose implies that we can choose. In my experience, we don't get to choose the story as it happens. In a bookstore it's pretty cut and dry, we can pick one up or not, but what about in the hallway? Then, aren't there the stories we wouldn't choose because we don't want them to make-up our world but they are real? I think journaling is an interesting therapeutic technique; I've been encouraged to do it many times. To some extent, it does help. There, in my story, I get to choose how it goes--but what about before the story? What about the things that we tell stories about... how do we choose those? Are they open for our consideration in narratology?

Brownlow Reflection 01/27/15

“The world is a set of stories which must be chosen among.” – Walter Fisher

                H. Porter Abbott, in his Introduction to Narrative, suggests that narrative is universal, forming from the moment we start stringing words together. However, he also points out that narrative discourse and story are not technically the same thing, and brings up the question: Which came first, the discourse or the story? Although discourse comes to us when we first start speaking, does story come only when we speak it as well?

                The quote above suggests that story is not actually dependent on narrative discourse. Stories, as Fisher points out, are cultural constructs that serve a purpose, whether spoken aloud or not. This causes me to think of stories as cultural constructs and perceptions of reality. Everybody has their own story, their own perception of the world and the people in it. Thus, if we go by this idea, then Fisher’s statement is profound, for he is suggesting that the entire world not only includes a set of stories, but actually is a set of stories. Every person chooses and perceives their stories through their own cultural lens. This is indicative of Hans Robert Jauss’s argument that, as each person brings their own set of experience and belief to each story they perceive, they construct their reaction to and perception of each story in accordance with what he calls their horizon of expectation.

                Interestingly, he does not say that the world is an infinite number of stories to be chosen from. He says that it is a set of stories to be chosen among. As Jauss would suggest, one’s horizon of expectation adjusts and readjusts each time we approach a story, and thus is ever-changing. Fisher could be suggesting here that the stories that make up the world may be only a finite “set,” but that we are constantly choosing the same stories over and over, but with different expectations and perceptions of these stories based on our ever-changing horizons of expectations.

                When reading Fisher's quote, a line from Diane Setterfield’s The Thirteenth Tale is brought to mind: “I don’t pretend reality is the same for everyone.” With these words in mind, I am inclined to believe that Fisher’s quote coincides with the ever-changing perceptions of reality that is not the same for everyone, and is not always the same for even one person. It is constantly evolving so that the stories that make up the world are not only to be selected, but to be constantly chosen, returned to, and chosen again. The stories surround us, change us, and are changed by us.

Blivens Reflection

"The world is a set of stories which must be chosen among."

This statement is aligned with Fishers ‘homo narrans’ concept in which all human beings are storytellers. We all use stories as a way to establish meaning, relate histories, and convey morals. Narratives have both a function in the lives of humans and are utilized in different ways. The perverseness of narratives in our culture illustrates the primacy of the quote. The multitude of narratives in my family taught me about myself and made me feel better about obstacles I faced. Family stories showed me I wasn’t alone in my experience. It helped me embrace obstacles with a sense of shared solidary. Other stories offered warnings and showed a clear demarcation for what was appropriate and inappropriate behavior.

When thinking back to family stories that I heard growing up most of them taught a lesson or contained a moral argument. Whether it was the value of education, saving money, or simply family history it points to the important role narratives play in society.The rational world paradigm that he explores details how humans use reasoning in narratives. Fisher suggests that stories are meant to give order to human experience and promotes community by encouraging common ways of living.

I often watch the History channel and enjoy the narrative qualities they use to tell history. In a recent documentary they detailed America’s Gilded Age and traced the histories of Rockefeller, Carnegie, and Morgan. They use different storytellers, video clips, and historical documents to weave together the story of this time in American history. The narrative can be found in several genres.

One of my favorite directors takes a narrative approach to examining different topics. Ken Burns’ documentaries on Jazz and the Central Park Five both have the feeling of storytelling. He uncovers the stories of the wrongly convicted Central Park Five, which had been mostly relegated by history. The narrative approach brings to life the dreadfulness of what happened.








When Fisher says that stories must be chosen among it makes me think of those narratives that are marginalized. If the world is full of stories then there has to be stories that we don’t hear.

"The world is a set of stories which must be chosen among."

Fisher’s statement rings true for me and speaks to the ways in which we construct our identities as individuals, groups, and communities. Every day in our conscious lives presents us with stories: those transmitted to us culturally through narrative arts, those transmitted to us by our communities from the proverbial water coolers to our news sources, and those transmitted to us by the accumulation of small, interrelated events throughout the day. From these, the stories we choose to emphasize, both as individuals and parts of groups and communities, define us and our values. This is a circular process, as our values go on to determine which stories we will emphasize. And it rarely begins with stories we consciously chose ourselves, but instead with stories chosen for us by our elders and other authority figures in our cultures.


So Fisher is not just stating a truth of his Narrative Paradigm, he is also pointed to an ethical imperative inherent to that paradigm. Not only must we choose from all the stories the world presents to us, we must choose, as a knight once told one my heroes, wisely. We are not simply responsible for choosing the stories that define us (though even if we were, that would not get us off the ethical hook), but for choosing those that define our fellows and our descendants. We have to strongly consider what values are being presented by the stories we choose to emphasize and whether we wish those values to be a part of what defines us and our culture. Our power to choose stories is a great power and must be exercised responsibly. It can create quite a dilemma.


One such dilemma is caused by the recent book, American Sniper, and its film adaptation. Both tell the story (we will avoid the questions regarding its veracity for now) of Chris Kyle, the most dedicated sniper in American history. I think all of us can agree that Kyle was an incredibly brave and patriotic man who made great sacrifices in service to his country. But I think all of us can also agree that the service he provided was that of an incredibly and unflinching killer. So we must ask ourselves, should we emphasize this man’s story? The values of bravery and sacrifice it presents say yes. The destructive violence it presents says no. And the patriotism it presents opens up a whole other realm of questions.


Fisher’s statement points to both a power and a difficulty we all must deal with.

Please post your weekly reflections here for feedback!