The Storytelling Animal

“You might not realize it, but you are a creature of an imaginative realm called Neverland. Neverland is your home, and before you die, you will spend decades there.”

Gottschall introduces the concept of “Neverland” as a metaphor for the realm of imagination in which humans spend much of their lives. He intends this metaphor to transform the abstract concept of imagination into a tangible place, one that is familiar yet fantastical, where individuals escape throughout their lives. The use of direct address in “You might not realize it, but you are a creature of an imaginative realm called Neverland” personalizes this idea, connecting it directly to one’s lived experience and inviting recognition of one’s participation in this aspect of human life.

“I’m aware that the very idea of bringing science—with its sleek machines, its cold statistics, its unlovely jargon—into Neverland makes many people nervous. Fictions, fantasies, dreams—these are, to the humanistic imagination, a kind of sacred preserve. They are the last bastion of magic. They are the one place where science cannot—should not—penetrate, reducing ancient mysteries to electrochemical storms in the brain or the timeless warfare among selfish genes. The fear is that if you explain the power of Neverland, you may end up explaining it away. As Wordsworth said, you have to murder in order to dissect. But I disagree.”

Gottschall contrasts the worlds of science and imagination through the juxtaposition of “sleek machines, cold statistics, unlovely jargon” with “Fictions, fantasies, dreams.” This contrast highlights the tension between the empirical world of science and the ephemeral world of the creative mind. Asyndeton amplifies the division between the cold, analytical nature of science (“sleek machines, its cold statistics, its unlovely jargon”) and the rich, enigmatic domain of fiction and dreams (“Fictions, fantasies, dreams”). The quick succession of phrases without the softening effect of conjunctions mirrors the perceived incompatibility between the methodical dissection of scientific inquiry and the magical, mysterious essence of the creative realm.

“The Storytelling Animal is about the way explorers from the sciences and humanities are using new tools, new ways of thinking, to open up the vast terra incognita of Neverland.”

The metaphor of “terra incognita”—a Latin phrase meaning “unknown land”—is used to describe “Neverland,” the imaginative realm. The metaphor extends the concept of exploration typically associated with physical geography to the abstract and boundless territories of the human mind and creativity. This metaphor likens the work being undertaken by scholars in the fields of science and humanities to explorers charting new and unknown parts of the world. This metaphor also carries unfortunate, unintended colonial implications. The term evokes historical European explorations that often resulted in domination and exploitation of already inhabited lands, suggesting a problematic notion of intellectual colonialism. This framing implies scholars might impose their own interpretations on human narrative and creativity, echoing the historical power imbalance between colonizers and the colonized. This metaphor prompts a reconsideration of how knowledge about human creativity is produced and encourages a more reflective approach to the study of narratives.

“Human life is so bound up in stories that we are thoroughly desensitized to their weird and witchy power.”

Gottschall uses alliteration and metaphor describing the nature of stories in human life: “weird and witchy power.” This metaphor seeks to imbue storytelling with a mystical, almost supernatural quality, suggesting that stories have an enchanting effect that can bewitch or beguile the human psyche. The phrase captures the idea that stories, despite their ubiquitous presence and their fundamental role in shaping human experience, retain a mysterious and inexplicable power that often goes unnoticed due to its commonality in daily life.

“I know from reading War and Peace that Princess Lise Bolkonskaya is small and girlishly vivacious, with a ‘short’ upper lip that leaves her front teeth cutely exposed. But the princess exists with a sort of physical actuality in my mind that greatly exceeds the information Tolstoy provides.”

The author employs imagery and hyperbole to express how characters in literature can take on a life of their own individuals minds. The allusion to Princess Lise Bolkonskaya from War and Peace provides a physical portrait and suggests an intimacy that transcend the textual descriptions provided by Tolstoy. This hyperbole—“the princess exists with a sort of physical actuality in my mind that greatly exceeds the information Tolstoy provides”—illustrates the power of narrative to evoke detailed and lively images in one’s imagination, creating characters that feel real and substantive, often beyond the literal words on the page.

“Children adore art by nature, not nurture.”

The statement utilizes antithesis to assert the innate rather than acquired appreciation for art in children. This device sets up a contrast between “nature” and “nurture,” two fundamentally opposing ideas, to argue that the affinity for art is inherent in children and not primarily developed through environmental influences or education. This antithesis sharpens the focus on the natural predisposition towards creativity and artistic expression found universally among children.

“Pretend play is deadly serious fun. Every day, children enter a world where they must confront dark forces, fleeing and fighting for their lives. I’ve written some of this book at my kitchen table, with the land of make-believe changing shape around me.”

The description of pretend play incorporates oxymoron and imagery to dramatize the experiences of children engaged in imaginative activities. The phrase “deadly serious fun” combines words with traditionally opposite meanings—“deadly” and “fun”—to underline the intense, almost paradoxical nature of children’s play. The imagery of children confronting “dark forces, fleeing and fighting for their lives” paints a picture of the stakes involved in their imaginative worlds. These worlds, though fictitious, invoke real emotions and developmental challenges, thereby intending to highlight the critical role of play in child development.

“There is a paradox in fiction that was first noticed by Aristotle in the Poetics. We are drawn to fiction because fiction gives us pleasure. But most of what is actually in fiction is deeply unpleasant: threat, death, despair, anxiety, Sturm und Drang.”

The paradox of fiction, first articulated by Aristotle, is illuminated through the juxtaposition of conflicting emotions evoked by narrative content. The quote points out the dichotomy that while fiction is a source of pleasure, the elements it often portrays—like “threat, death, despair, anxiety, Sturm und Drang”—are inherently unpleasant. This paradox is a contrast, an exploration of why humans are drawn to stories that, on the surface, seem to evoke negative feelings. The juxtaposition serves to probe into the psychological and perhaps cathartic functions of fiction, suggesting that engagement with challenging content allows for emotional exploration and release in a safe context.

“Hyperrealism is interesting as an experiment, but like most fiction that breaks with the primordial conventions of storytelling, almost no one can actually stand to read it. Hyperrealist fiction is valuable mainly for helping us see what fiction is by showing us what it isn’t. Hyperrealism fails for the same reason that pure wish fulfillment does. Both lack the key ingredient of story: the plot contrivance of trouble.”

Gottschall employs antithesis to explore the boundaries of fiction. Hyperrealism is described as both an interesting experiment and notably difficult for individuals to engage with. This juxtaposition highlights the contrast between the theoretical appeal of Hyperrealism and its practical reception among readers. The device underlines that while Hyperrealism attempts to mirror reality meticulously, it lacks the dramatic plot elements typically found in traditional narratives, which are essential for maintaining reader interest.

“Story = Character + Predicament + Attempted Extrication This is story’s master formula, and it is intensely strange. There are a lot of different ways stories could be structured. For example, we have already considered escapist fantasies of pure wish fulfillment. But while characters frequently do live happily ever after in fiction, they must always earn their good fortune by flirting with disaster. The thornier the predicament faced by the hero, the more we like the story.”

Parallelism features in the formulation “Character + Predicament + Attempted Extrication.” This technique arranges similarly structured elements within a sentence, fostering clarity and enhancing the rhythmic quality of the prose. By using parallelism, the formula is meant to be easier to understand and remember. This technique also emphasizes the equal importance of each component in creating a compelling story. Furthermore, the phrase “flirting with disaster” employs metaphor to capture the essence of the characters’ engagement with their predicaments. This metaphor suggests a risky, almost provocative interaction with danger, enhancing the emotional stakes and the dramatic tension inherent in narrative plots. It evokes a sense of daring and the potential for grave consequences, which are important for gripping storytelling.

“The novelist John Gardner compares fictional stories to ‘vivid and continuous dream[s],’ but it’s just as accurate to call dreams ‘vivid and continuous stories.’”

This comparison of fiction to dreams uses metaphor to draw parallels between the two as immersive experiences. Referring to both dreams and fictional narratives as “vivid and continuous” connects them through their shared ability to engage the imagination. This metaphor extends the understanding of how narratives operate on a psychological level, suggesting that just as dreams can captivate and involve people through their story-like qualities, so too can stories captivate by unfolding in ways that resemble the unbounded, free-flowing nature of dreams.

“Based on statistics like these, psychologist Daniel Nettle writes, ‘It is hard to avoid the conclusion that most of the canon of Western culture was produced by people with a touch of madness.’”

The use of hyperbole is evident in the phrase “a touch of madness.” This exaggeration emphasizes the idea that the creative genius behind much of Western cultural canon often borders on the irrational. This hyperbolic statement serves to provoke thought about the thin line between genius and madness, suggesting that the extraordinary creative outputs of certain individuals might stem from psychological extremes. Additionally, the use of a citation (“psychologist Daniel Nettle writes”) lends authority to the claim, grounding the hyperbolic statement in psychological analysis and research, thus providing a balance between rhetorical flourish and empirical backing.

“We each have a little Sherlock Holmes in our brain. His job is to ‘reason backwards’ from what we can observe in the present and show what orderly series of causes led to particular effects. Evolution has given us an ‘inner Holmes’ because the world really is full of stories (intrigues, plots, alliances, relationships of cause and effect), and it pays to detect them.”

Gottschall introduces a metaphor with “we each have a little Sherlock Holmes in our brain.” This metaphor personifies a part of human cognitive process as a famous fictional detective. The metaphor extends to describe this cognitive function’s role in “reasoning backwards” to make sense of cause and effect in one’s surroundings, effectively anthropomorphizing an abstract mental process into a relatable and concrete character. This literary device illustrates how humans process and interpret their experiences, emphasizing an innate predisposition for narrative thinking.

“In short, the storytelling mind is a factory that churns out true stories when it can, but will manufacture lies when it can’t.”

The quote utilizes metonymy with the term “the storytelling mind” to represent the broader cognitive abilities of humans that involve narrative construction. This phrase encapsulates the human capacity to create and understand stories, whether they are factual or fabricated. The use of simile in describing the mind as “a factory that churns out true stories when it can, but will manufacture lies when it can’t” further highlights this idea. The simile compares the mind to a production facility, emphasizing its efficiency and constant activity in generating narratives that make sense of the world, underscoring the fluidity with which cognition can toggle between reality and fiction based on the available information.

“Flip through the holy books of the three great monotheisms—Judaism, Christianity, and Islam—and you will be flipping through anthologies of stories: the Fall, the Flood, Sodom and Gomorrah, Abraham and Isaac, the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ, the Archangel Gabriel seizing Muhammad by the throat and revealing that Allah created man from a clot of blood.”

The mention of “the Fall, the Flood, Sodom and Gomorrah, Abraham and Isaac, the crucifixion and resurrection of Christ” alludes to well-known biblical stories. These allusions enhance understanding and evoke familiarity with the content. Additionally, the quote utilizes parallelism to structure the list of stories. Each item in the list follows a similar pattern of mentioning a key event or figure from the respective religious tradition, creating a sense of symmetry and balance in the sentence. Furthermore, the use of specific imagery, such as “the Archangel Gabriel seizing Muhammad by the throat,” adds vividness to the description and emphasizes the dramatic nature of the stories recounted in these holy books.

“The world’s priests and shamans knew what psychology would later confirm: if you want a message to burrow into a human mind, work it into a story.”

The author makes a clear assertion about the power of storytelling in human cognition, backed by psychological insight. The phrase “if you want a message to burrow into a human mind, work it into a story” emphasizes the strategic use of narrative to make messages memorable and impactful. This statement taps into the understanding that stories are not just entertainment but powerful tools for communication and persuasion, as supported by psychological research. The choice of the verb “burrow” metaphorically conveys the deep, lasting impact stories can have, suggesting that they can embed themselves within the human psyche, much like how a creature burrows into the earth, making them effective for conveying religious and moral teachings.

“But Plato was wrong, and so were his panicked descendants. Fiction is, on the whole, intensely moralistic. Yes, evil occurs, and antiheroes, from Milton’s Satan to Tony Soprano, captivate us. But fiction virtually always puts us in a position to judge wrongdoing, and we do so with gusto.”

Gottschall draws a contrast between the philosophical stance of Plato, who feared the effects of fiction, and the intrinsic moralistic nature of storytelling as understood today. The juxtaposition of “Plato was wrong” with the affirmation that fiction is “intensely moralistic” highlights a shift from ancient skepticism to contemporary appreciation of narrative’s role in moral education. The mention of characters from “Milton’s Satan to Tony Soprano” serves as a literary allusion, connecting classical and modern narratives to illustrate the enduring appeal of complex characters who operate in morally ambiguous spaces, yet still invite moral judgment from the audience.

“Story—sacred and profane—is perhaps the main cohering force in human life. A society is composed of fractious people with different personalities, goals, and agendas. What connects us beyond our kinship ties? Story.”

Gottschall argues the societal function of stories using a metaphor of “cohering force,” likening narrative to a binding agent that unites disparate individuals within a society. This metaphor extends to assert that beyond kinship ties, it is the shared narratives—whether sacred or secular—that forge communal bonds among people with varied interests and personalities. The quote also uses antithesis, where the contrast between “sacred and profane” highlights the broad spectrum of stories that hold importance in human existence. This juxtaposition underscores the idea that storytelling encompasses both religious and secular narratives, yet they serve a similar cohesive function in society. Lastly, the use of rhetorical questions, such as “What connects us beyond our kinship ties?” prompts reflection on the role of storytelling in fostering connections among individuals within a society.

“Most of us believe that we know how to separate fantasy and reality—that we keep information gathered from fiction safely quarantined from our stores of general knowledge. But studies show that this is not always the case. In the same mental bin, we mix information gleaned from both fiction and nonfiction.”

This quote utilizes the metaphor of a “mental bin” to depict the cognitive process of how individuals integrate information from both fiction and nonfiction. This metaphorical representation suggests that the mind functions as a container where knowledge from various sources is stored together, without clear boundaries between fiction and reality. It highlights the idea that the distinction between fantasy and reality is not always clear-cut and that information from both types of sources can intermingle within the mind.

“We humans are constantly marinating ourselves in fiction, and all the while it is shaping us, changing us. If the research is correct, fiction is one of the primary sculpting forces of individuals and societies.”

Gottschall employs the metaphor of individuals “marinating” themselves in fiction to illustrate the pervasive and immersive nature of storytelling in human life. This metaphor suggests that individuals are steeped in fiction continuously, absorbing its influences and undergoing transformation as a result. Additionally, the quote employs the rhetorical device of hyperbole by describing fiction as “one of the primary sculpting forces” of individuals and societies. This exaggeration emphasizes the significant impact of fiction on human development and cultural evolution. It is intended to underscore the transformative power of storytelling in shaping beliefs, values, and behaviors at both the individual and collective levels.

“Some critics argue that most memoirs, not just the brazenly fraudulent ones, should be shelved in the fiction section of bookstores. Memoirists don’t tell true stories; they tell ‘truthy’ ones. Like a film that dramatizes historical events, all memoirs should come with a standard disclaimer: ‘This book is based on a true story.’”

Gottschall employs analogy by comparing memoirs to films that dramatize historical events. This comparison highlights the fictionalized nature of memoirs, suggesting that they should be viewed as artistic representations rather than objective accounts of real-life experiences. Additionally, the quote utilizes irony by suggesting that all memoirs should come with a disclaimer stating, “This book is based on a true story.” This ironic statement highlights the inherent subjectivity and unreliability of memoirs, despite their claims of truthfulness. It underscores the paradoxical nature of memoir writing, where authors strive to convey personal truths but inevitably shape their narratives to fit certain storytelling conventions or audience expectations.

“This research is profoundly unsettling. If we can’t trust our memories about the big things in life—9/11, sexual abuse, being hospitalized after a dog attack—how can we trust it about the small things? How can we believe that anything in our lives was as we remember it, especially since we are every bit as confident in our false memories—our ‘retroactive hallucinations’—as we are in our true ones?”

Gottschall invokes rhetorical questioning to provoke reflection on the reliability of human memory. By posing questions about the trustworthiness of memories related to significant life events, such as 9/11 or experiences of trauma, the quote raises doubts about the accuracy of one’s own memories and perceptions, with “unsettling” implications.

“Ours is not the age when poetry died; it is the age when poetry triumphed in the form of song. It is the age of American Idol. It is the age when people carry around ten or twenty thousand of their favorite poems stored on little white rectangles tucked into their hip pockets. It is an age when most of us know hundreds of these poems by heart.”

The quote exhibits irony by presenting a paradoxical statement about the state of poetry in contemporary society. While it begins by asserting that “ours is not the age when poetry died,” it then reveals that poetry has actually evolved and triumphed in a different form: song. By juxtaposing the traditional concept of poetry with the contemporary phenomenon of songs, the quote highlights the enduring relevance and adaptability of poetic expression.