Our fiction addiction: Why humans need stories
By David Robson
Although we have no firm evidence of storytelling
before the advent of writing, we can assume that
narratives have been central to human life for
thousands of years. Cave paintings ∈France from
[5] 30,000 years ago appear to depict dramatic scenes
that were probably accompanied by oral storytelling.
Today, we may not gather around the camp fire, but
the average adult is still thought to spend at least 6%
of the waking day engrossed ∈ fictional stories on our
[10] various screens.
From an evolutionary point of view, that would be
an awful lot of time and energy to expend on pure
escapism, but psychologists and literary theorists
have now identified many potential benefits to this
[15] fiction addiction.
One common idea is that storytelling is a form of
cognitive play that hones our minds, allowing us to
simulate the world around us and imagine different
strategies, particularly ∈ social situations. “It teaches
[20] us about other people and it’s a practice ∈ empathy
and theory of mind,” says Joseph Carroll at the
University of Missouri-St Louis.
Providing some evidence for this theory, brain
scans have shown that reading or hearing stories
[25] activates various areas of the cortex that are known
to be involved ∈ social and emotional processing, and
the more people read fiction, the easier they find it to
empathise with other people.
Crucially, evolutionary psychologists believe that
[30] our prehistoric preoccupations still shape the form
of the stories we enjoy. As humans evolved to live ∈
bigger societies, for instance, we needed to learn how
to cooperate, without being a ‘free rider’ who takes too
much and gives nothing, or overbearing individuals
[35] abusing their dominance to the detriment of the
group’s welfare. Our capacity for storytelling – and the
tales we tell – may have therefore also evolved as a
way of communicating the \right social norms.
Along these lines, various studies have identified
[40] cooperation as a core theme ∈ popular narratives
across the world. The anthropologist Daniel Smith of
University College London recently visited 18 groups
of hunter-gatherers of the Philippines. He found
nearly 80% of their tales concerned moral decision
[45] making and social dilemmas. Crucially, this then
appeared to translate to their real-life behaviour; the
groups that appeared to invest the most ∈ storytelling
also proved to be the most cooperative during various
experimental tasks – exactly as the evolutionary
[50] theory would suggest.
You might assume that our interest ∈ cooperation
would have dwindled with the increasing individualism
of the Industrial Revolution, but these themes were
still prevalent ∈ some of the most beloved British
[55] novels from the 19th and early 20th Centuries.
Asking a panel of readers to rate the principal
characters ∈ more than 200 novels, researchers
found that the antagonists’ major flaw was most
often a quest for social dominance at the expense of
[60] others or an abuse of their existing power, while the
protagonists appeared to be less individualistic and
ambitious.
Evolutionary theory can also shed light on the
staples of romantic fiction, including the heroines’
[65] preferences for stable ‘dad’ figures or flighty ‘cads’.
The ‘dads’ might be the better choice for the long-term
security and protection of your children, but according
to an evolutionary theory known as the ‘sexy son
hypothesis’, falling for an unfaithful cad can have his
[70] own advantages since they can pass on their good
looks, cunning and charm to his own children, who
may then also enjoy greater sexual success.
There are many more insights to be gained
from these readings, including, for instance, a recent
[75] analysis of the truly evil figures ∈ fantasy and horror
stories. Common features include a grotesque
appearance and appear to be designed to trigger our
evolved fear of contagion and disease, and given our
innate tribalism, villains often carry signs that they are
[80] a member of an “out-group” – hence the reason that
so many Hollywood baddies have foreign accents.
Once again, the idea is that a brush with these evil
beings ultimately reinforces our own sense of altruism
and loyalty to the group.
[85] The novelist Ian McEwan is one of the most
celebrated literary voices to have embraced these
evolutionary readings of literature, and argues that
many common elements of plot can even be found ∈
the machinations of our primate cousins. “If one reads
[90] accounts of the systematic nonintrusive observations
of troops of bonobo,” he wrote ∈a book of essays on
the subject, The Literary Animal, “one sees rehearsed
all the major themes of the English 19th-Century
novel: alliances made and broken, individuals rising
[95] while others fall, plots hatched, revenge, gratitude,
injured pride, successful and unsuccessful courtship,
bereavement and mourning.”
McEwan argues we should celebrate these
evolved tendencies as the very source of fiction’s
[100] power to cross the continents and the centuries.
“It would not be possible to enjoy literature from
a time remote from our own, or from a culture that
was profoundly different from our own, unless we
shared some common emotional ground, some deep
[105] reservoir of assumptions, with the writer,” he added.
Available at: http://www.bbc.com/culture/story/20180503-our-fi ction- -addiction-why-humans-need-stories. Retrieved on: 3 May 2018. Adapted.
The author mentions the anthropologist Daniel Smith ∈ the sixth paragraph (lines 39-50) of the text because he
