Thoughts on the Crisis of Narration
I recently finished reading The Crisis of Narration by Byung-Hul Chan. In it Chan explains the difference between narratives and narration, story-telling versus story-selling and how in the age of social media we are constantly narrating our own lives posting ‘stories’ for likes and subscribers without really telling a story at all. Chan also explains how humans today have such unlimited access to data and information, making us too impatient for narration. As such we only gain primitive knowledge about correlations and are therefore formulating fewer and fewer new theories and hypotheses. Given my career in analytics and experimentation I found Chan’s thoughts on big data very thought-provoking, which is an entirely separate topic I want to spend more time exploring.
In the meantime Chan’s opening remarks about narratives creating community, highlight that ‘No amount of story-telling could recreate the fire around which humans gather to tell each other stories.’ Ryan and I spend a lot of time camping and anyone who camps knows that one of the best parts of camping is sitting around the fire after a day of tromping through the wilderness. Sometimes we just sit silently entranced by the glowing flames, too worn out from the day’s adventures. Other times, we share amazing stories while sitting around the campfire. In Redwoods National Park we met Mike, we were all sitting on the beach drying our wet socks around the fire when he told us stories about his past; when his car broke down in Colorado, when he worked on ships and when he used to ride motorcycles with his wife — we still imitate the joyful way he said ‘braaaaaaaaap!’. In Capitol Reef, we met Partick and he told us about his vagabonding adventures and how he was hoping to one day meet an older lady friend so they could take advantage of the senior discounts available at National Parks. Last year we took Ruth camping for the first time and as we sat around the campfire she told us some of the most deeply personal stories from her past. We were blown away and I can only hope sitting around the campfire that night brought her healing as we began to forge trust and a permanent bond. What is it about sitting around a campfire that makes humans seem more trustworthy and worth opening up to?
I didn’t grow up camping so we never told stories around the campfire as kids. However, when I read Chan’s chapter called The Poverty of Experience, which analyzes Walter Benjamin’s essay ‘Experience and Poverty’ I immediately thought of my family. Here’s an excerpt from the chapter:
“Benjamin holds that the storyteller ‘is a man who has counsel for his listeners’. Such counsel does not simply provide solutions to problems. Rather, it suggests how a story is to be continued. The one seeking counsel and the counselor both belong to a narrative community. Those seeking counsel must themselves be able to narrate. In real life, counsel is sought and given in a narrative context. As wisdom, it is ‘woven into the fabric of real life’. Wisdom is embedded into life as narrative. If life can no longer be narrated, wisdom deteriorates, and its place is taken by problem-solving techniques. Wisdom is narrated truth.”
For as long as I can remember my Dad has told us a story on Christmas Eve, a moment of calm before chaos ensues with wrapping paper flying around the room when we all tear into our presents. It started when there were just five of us sitting around the tree in Ohio and it has continued on to present times as our family has grown to fourteen. I may not remember the details of everything he’s shared over the years, but I will always remember our family ritual. Some years he would share his own thoughts on the Christmas Eve church service, I remember seeing him in the pew scrambling down notes. Other times he would bring in newspaper clippings highlighting significant events from the previous year. But most years he shared wisdom based on the challenges or celebrations our family experienced over the past twelve months, like the year my Mom battled cancer, or the years we welcomed new family members first spouses and then children. Whatever the story, the themes were usually about ordering our life in the way of the Lord, the importance of prioritizing the relationships in our family and how to make honorable choices in our own households as we navigate the uncertainties of the modern world.
When I read Chan’s book and thought about the stories told each year as we sat around the Christmas tree I decided to ask my Dad how it all started.
Q: What made you want to tell us a story every year on Christmas Eve? Why did you get started?
A: Well back in the day everyone was saying Christmas is getting too commercialized and things like it’s not about Santa, it’s about Christ so I wanted to figure out a way to personalize that for our family.
Q: When did you start?
A [Gary]: Oh, I don’t know. Laura, when did I start the tradition of talking before we open Christmas gifts.
[Laura]: Ever since we’ve been married, so 1983.
Q: You mean you just sat there and gave Mom a Christmas message?
A [Gary]: Laughter.
[Laura]: No, when it was just us we always prayed together and read scripture before exchanging gifts.
[Gary]: Yea, and then over the years when you guys were young we had things like the Veggie Tales Christmas story, not really I just made that up. More laughing…
Q: Is there a message from any year that sticks out in your memory?
A: Wow, I’d have to go back through them all and think about that. The thing that comes to mind is the year before covid hit God put it on my heart to pray for everyone’s safety. It’s not like we were anywhere dangerous, I was working in Valley City [Ohio] and we were living in Scottsdale, but it was kind of a crazy time and we were about to have grandkids…and then a few months later the pandemic hit.
*This wasn’t part of our conversation but once the lockdown orders were nationwide, Dad got us all on the phone one day to pass down some sage advice, like ‘make sure you keep some cash on hand in case you need a haircut’.
Q: Anything else?
A: You know, it’s funny when I’m talking with my sisters, one Christmas memory always comes up. We used to go to see my Dad’s family and everyone would be singing and drinking, and then we would leave and drive to my parent’s friend’s house. The drive was crazy because Grandma was yelling about something, my Dad was close to inebriated and then we drove past a horrific car accident with an entire family, six dead bodies on the road. So I think my whole reason for doing this was to create different Christmas memories for my family, so they wouldn’t have the memories I had as a kid. My Dad never loved Christmas, I think because of resource constraints…but I wanted the tone to be different in my family, I wanted it to be mellow and about appreciating all the blessings we have as Christians.
As we start 2025, I’m grateful for the experiences I’ve had over the years to cultivate community by sharing stories and I want to be more intentional about slowing down and keeping space for more storytelling, and hopefully more campfires this year.
