Storytellers

Why have we, as a society, given up stories?

Perhaps my particular sphere has been influenced by being surrounded by academia, but it feels like everything I read lately is overwhelmingly pretentious. Literary journals are chock full of pieces that follow some sort of plot line(I guess), but 80% of the narrative is introspective bullshit. Who cares about the whiny, white, male protagonist and his reflections on the society that led to this, that, and the other?

Don't get me wrong-There's certainly a time and place for things like that. Main characters are supposed to feel and react to things. That's what makes them interesting. But to focus on those feelings without making room for other characters and actual plot movement is foolish at best.

For example, take Wild(the book I so often quoted in my beach trip entry). Cheryl Strayed tells us, at length, how she feels about things. After all, she sets out on the trek specifically to think about herself and her life. We get to know her through these reflections, and it's great. But Cheryl also gives time to other characters-No one can forget lovable Doug or Cheryl's warm mother. She tells us of wide mountain ranges, hot deserts, animals and sounds. We experience the world through her, instead of just experiencing her.

And that's what I find lacking in so many prizewinners. I read to experience other worlds through identifiable characters, not read a biography.

The world needs stories. Stories can teach, and stories can be an escape from the load of bullshit that the world continuously throws our way. A good story, like Patrick Ness' A Monster Calls, can heal. I can only hope that one day, human beings try embracing the simple over the pretentious, and bring back the story.