Jonathan Gottschall The StoryTelling Animal: How Stories Make us Human.

Boston, New York: Houghton

Mifflin Harcourt, 2012. 232 pages. Review by: Marisa Bortolussi, University of Alberta.

Today in academic circles, the insight that stories are everywhere has become a clich,
as Jonathan Gottschall acknowledges. In his new book, The Storytelling Animal: How
Stories Make us Human , he attempts to delve below the surface of this commonplace
assertion by reflecting on the why of our propensity to generate and consume stories.
Throughout the nine chapters that comprise the book, this erudite aficionado of
Neverland ponders the evolutionary function of various of its forms: literature, film,
television programs of different generic stripes, childrens play, virtual reality, dreams,
religious narratives, music lyrics, and myths. To lend persuasive force to his argument
that we gravitate to story for evolutionary reasons (31), and that therefore Neverland
is our evolutionary niche (177), he seeks supporting evidence in a variety of scientific
studies. The book ends with an interesting personal, educated guess about the future of
stories; while storytelling is likely to evolve, he states, there will always be stories.
To the uninitiated reader, the book provides an accessible introduction to research
related to reader and audience reception. Written in a simple, jargon-free language and
a conversational style, the book is an easy read, suitable in level for undergraduate
students. It is also an engaging read, peppered throughout with numerous story
snippets and anecdotes. Gottschall blends story and science to narrate his own story
about stories, one that many readers may find persuasive. Interesting and plausible as
the story may seem, however, more critical, sophisticated readers who are familiar with
much of the research he cites may react to certain aspects of his arguments with less
indulgence.
Perhaps one of the least important, but nevertheless frustrating aspects of Gottschalls
scholarship is the frequent lack of acknowledgement of his scholarly sources. For
example, numerous allusions to scientific research and statistical findings (pp. 8, 11, 39,
44, 61, 65, 79, 82, 86, 92, 105, 110, 117, 132,149) are unreferenced. While we may well
believe the authors rendering of the research, the lack of documentation leaves us in
the shadow of uncertainty.
More important is the incomplete or oversimplified rendering of some of the research he
surveys, in particular, studies in neuroscience, and psychological studies on the effects
of fictional narratives.
A central idea privileged in the book is simulation theory of storytelling, that is, the idea
that through their simulation of life and its dilemmas, stories afford us the chance to
practice, through our own simulation, our problem solving and life skills. To support his
position, Gottscall draws on evidence from neuropsychology. For example, he mentions
the fMRI study that revealed that the same area of the brain was activated when
subjects viewed an actor taste a disgusting solution and then grimace in disgust, and
when they tasted the solution themselves. He mentions similar evidence found by
others who demonstrated that the same area of the brain is activated when we respond
to others emotions as when we experience them ourselves. Presumably then, when we
empathize with characters plights, we are learning and growing as human beings. To
persuade us of the neural basis for simulation, Gottschall draws our attention to the
notion of mirror neurons. Although he acknowledges some scientists skepticism with

Jonathan Gottschall The StoryTelling Animal: How Stories Make us Human. Boston, New York: Houghton
Mifflin Harcourt, 2012. 232 pages. Review by: Marisa Bortolussi, University of Alberta.

respect to this phenomenon, he quickly dismisses it, writing that: Mirror neurons may
also be the basis of our ability to run powerful simulations in our heads (60). The
problem is that in point of fact, brain scientists are well aware of the mirror neuron
fallacy - there is virtually no evidence of mirror neurons in human beings, and
statements to the contrary are based on a misunderstanding of the primary research. It
has become fashionable to cite fMRI studies, but what exactly we learn from them is
unclear, since the same areas of the brain that are involved in any given activity under
experimental scrutiny are also activated by other, unrelated activities.
Gottschall offers yet another neural explanation to support the conjecture that reading,
like the realistic rehearsal of any skill....leads to enhanced performance... (65). His
explanation is that: when we practice a skill, we improve because repetition of the task
establishes denser and more efficient neural connections (64). Perhaps, but the neural
connection explanation is suspect, and really doesnt get us very far. First of all, it is not
an exclusive property of exposure to stories. Secondly, there are other well established
explanations that provide a more immediate understanding of the effects of practice,
such as those having to do with expertise and automatized thinking, for example.
Thirdly, the assumption that reading fiction improves our life skills may seem intuitive,
but in fact the evidence is in fact very slim.
These inaccuracies in Gottschalls neural arguments do not necessarily invalidate the
simulation theory of reading, but they do leave us in want of more cogent explanations.
As literary scholars we want to believe that reading fiction is good for us, that it has
profound and salutary effects. The ability of fiction to change readers beliefs and
attitudes is one of these effects that psychologists have attempted to examine.
However, a careful examination of this research makes it clear that the evidence is
scant and inconclusive, and not nearly as compelling as Gottschall would have us
believe. A good example is the studies regarding readers adoption of story-consistent
beliefs - the idea is that fiction leads readers to change their beliefs and attitudes. Let us
consider the evidence. Typically these experimental studies are conducted in the lab,
where subjects are given some stories to read, and then some questionnaires to fill out.
If one gives subjects a story in which some horrible crime occurs in a familiar place,
such as a mall, and then asks them if they think malls are dangerous places, subjects
who might not have shared this belief or concern before are more likely to respond in
the affirmative. But it would be simplistic to conclude that the subjects have undergone
a genuine belief change. Do they actually stop going to malls, or tremble in fear when
they do enter one? One plausible explanation is that when individuals do not have a
clear opinion about certain issues, a story might make them sensitive to the point of
view expressed in the story. Whether or not this leads to lasting attitudinal or behavioral
change is something that is still not known.
Referring to the psychological research on transport, (the idea that readers become
immersed in their reading to the point of losing awareness with their surroundings),
Gottschall repeats the claim that highly absorbed readers... detected significantly fewer
false notes in stories - inaccuracies, infelicities-than less transported readers (151),

Jonathan Gottschall The StoryTelling Animal: How Stories Make us Human. Boston, New York: Houghton
Mifflin Harcourt, 2012. 232 pages. Review by: Marisa Bortolussi, University of Alberta.

which allegedly explains their tendency to adopt story-consistent beliefs. The author
concludes that when we are absorbed in a story, we drop our intellectual guard (152).
Once again, careful examination of the primary research raises questions that caution
us against such facile conclusions. For example, was there anything in the very simple
and unchallenging stories presented to the subjects that contained any false notes?
Using narratives with unreliable or multiple narrators might yield very different results.
Much of what is used as experimental materials is hardly profound, ambiguous
literature. What kind of fiction produces this effect?
Other research to which Gottshall alludes suggests that by empathizing and/or
identifying with characters, navigating with them through life and viscerally experiencing
their trials and triumphs in situations that would otherwise be inaccessible to us, we
change. It is important to point out, however, that some of this evidence is hypothetical,
some merely correlational, and much of it confined to laboratory post-test self reports.
As yet, science has not developed reliable methods that can prove causal connections
between reading stories and lasting attitudinal or behavioral changes.
Persuasion is a demanding art which depends on a variety of strategies. One is them is
the selection of those aspects of an argument that support the premise. The
presentation of the scientific research discussed above is an example of this strategy.
Another is the use of broad, sweeping generalities. The most obvious of Gottschalls
generalities is the very term story. Natural narratives, human thinking, and fictional
works are all grouped together. After reading the book one may be left with the
impression that not only are stories everywhere, but that everything is story. But is it? If
the universal formula for story structure consists of Character + Predicament +
Attempted Extrication, as the author claims (52), then many of his examples are not
stories. Take dreams, to which an entire chapter of the book is dedicated. Not all
dreams conform to the story structure, as Freud understood; they often take the form of
incongruent, disconnected images. Nor do all forms of thinking, imagining, or problemsolving contain this structure, as the book seems to suggest. For example, in his
thought experiment about the Story People and the Practical People, he contrasts an
imaginary tribe that works and tells stories, and one that only works, conjecturing that
only the former would survive. Since there is no mention of the Practical People using
language at all, it would appear that the main difference between the two tribes has to
do with communication in a broad sense. But not all communication is story-based. Nor
is all thinking. We may invent narratives in which we are victims or heroes, we may
exercise selective memory to reinvent our past, we may imagine future scenarios, but
these motivated explanations or thoughts are not necessarily always stories in the
structural sense.
Another persuasion strategy is the overstatement of ones case. There are several
examples of this in The Storytelling Animal. For example, Gottschall claims that our
various fictional worlds are -- on the whole- horrorscopes (48). Many stories are, but
not all, especially in the realm of childrens literature, to which he devotes much
attention. We have only to think of Robert Munsch, The Berenstein Bears collection, or
Sesame Street for examples of the contrary. Overstated also is the story about the

Jonathan Gottschall The StoryTelling Animal: How Stories Make us Human. Boston, New York: Houghton
Mifflin Harcourt, 2012. 232 pages. Review by: Marisa Bortolussi, University of Alberta.

transformative effects of certain fictions. The example of Hitlers reaction to a Wagner

opera is the most salient. As with any reaction to any fiction, what Hitler derived from
that particular story was a function of the interaction of many variables. The same logic
applies to the Beecher Stowe example; that same story in a different time or context
would not have had the same effect. Any causal conclusion we might want to derive
from these and similar just-so stories would be an oversimplification.
After reading that stories may be cognitive play, or low-cost sources of information
about various aspects of life, that they may constitute the social glue that binds
communities (27-28), or simulate worlds so we can live better in this one (197), what
does the reader learn about the evolutionary basis of stories? The answer is given early
on in the book: ...when it comes to this particular question - Why story? - we are
mainly in a conjectural phase (31). Of course the more specialized reader knew that
already.
After reading The Storytelling Animal might well question the importance of evolutionary
arguments. Assuming that we do gravitate to stories for evolutionary reasons, and that
stories do perform evolutionary functions, what can we do with this knowledge? The
evolutionary argument cannot explain all literary reception, which is always a function of
the interaction of text, reader, and context. Readers seeking a deeper understanding of
the processing of fictional narratives need to critically examine the primary research.
One cannot fault Gottschall for not providing a penetrating critical analysis of the extant
scientific research on reader response; this was obviously not part of the his goal. If his
targeted audience is the unspecialized sector of the general reading population, this
book is a gentle and entertaining introduction to the research in question, and offers
much food for thought and speculation.