Structuring the Insider’s View: Narrative Gerontology in Research and Practice

I come naturally to my interest in narrative gerontology—what Jim Birren (1996) has referred to as the ultimate insider’s perspective on aging and human development. My parents were storytellers: the first half of my life was punctuated by the stories they would tell us (me and my siblings) of our Dutch ancestry, culture, and history, our Canadian roots, our family’s journey, the early experiences of my older siblings, and my early life. These stories informed and intrigued us, connected and grounded us, provided direction, and occasionally embarrassed or bored us. I recall that these stories would often enliven my parents, sometimes sadden them, and/or appear to stimulate their thinking; as a child, I can remember remarking to myself (and being somewhat perplexed at the time) that these stories were often directed more at themselves than at us. There seemed to be multiple messages and many levels to these stories. Now my parents are deceased and their stories, as I struggle to recall them, have a renewed, more immediate and ultimately poignant appeal. Such life story-telling, and the perspective of life as story (wherein individuals are understood as thinking and acting on the basis of stories; Kenyon, Clark, & de Vries, 2001), is the essence of a narrative gerontology. The introductory reflections above touch on the profundity, complexity, and multidimensionality of life stories and this field. Stories serve multiple purposes and have many complex referents and meanings, audiences (including the self), and outcomes. Stories are transactions, within and between individuals, sometimes moving individuals to action or challenging assumptions; some stories defy words, yet live within us. Our lives and experiences are as much biographical as they are biological (Birren, Kenyon, Ruth, Schroots, & Svensson, 1996). Kate de Medeiros’s book, Narrative Gerontology in Research and Practice, adds depth and breadth, texture/nuance, and direction to this field. A centering feature of this work is the self; Erikson (1968), McAdams (2006) and others have proposed that the unifying feature of stories is the construction and representation of the self—a response to the fundamental identity question, “Who am I?” de Medeiros adds additional queries emphasizing the interactive nature of storying later life (and the self) (Kenyon, Bohlmeijer, & Randall, 2010), including: “How do I know who I am? How do you know who I am?” Such questions raise issues related to reactions and reflexes (of others and in response to others, affirming or threatening the self), continuity of self (a surprisingly understudied dimension of narrative endeavors), as well as the complementary self (the potentially unarticulated self alongside the culturally-approved narrative expression of self). The depth and breadth of this volume is evidenced through chapter foci addressing the many definitions involved in the study of narrative issues, particularly with an aging perspective. Some of the many genres of storytelling comprising the field of narrative gerontology are discussed, including autobiographies and biographies, interviews, life histories, life review, life stories, master cultural narratives and scripts, oral histories, and reminiscence. Correspondingly, the many disciplines for which a narrative gerontology is relevant are reviewed including anthropology (and the culturally constructed story), humanities (e.g., novels and poems), medicine and nursing (and the stories of illness and pain, for example), psychology and psychiatry (including therapeutic story telling, life review in particular, and case histories), public policy (and the strategy of narrative construction), sociology (including the interesting distinction of “thinking with stories rather than thinking about stories,” p. 31), social work (focusing again on therapeutic works and interviews), and sociolinguistics (focusing on the structural way in which stories unfold). Theories tied to these disciplines, and definitions, are discussed. Notwithstanding this breadth and depth, almost every chapter begins with an apology of sorts for the incomplete presentation of the content covered in the relevant and subsequent pages. Such reasonable statements attest to the expansion of the field—and ultimately the need for a book such as this. The texture and nuance of this book are highlighted in chapters with foci such as the novel and evocative discussion of the life of a story, that is, from when and how a story is constructed and told to how it is heard and what may happen with such knowledge. de Medeiros notes that in addition to genre and intention, stories ultimately are products of writers and readers, of speakers and listeners. Similarly evocative are Chapters 6 and 7 with a focus on truth in stories and the role of power in narratives, respectively. Truth is an interesting dimension in storying life. For example, what is the role of memory in the veracity of stories that are told? What are accurate stories? Who determines accuracy? Story recipients also hear truth—or render appraisals of such based on interpretations of authenticity. Such exchanges also have multiple influences, including the role of power and master (e.g., cultural) narratives: whose story is it anyway? Where and from whom do storylines emerge? The distinction between big and small stories is made with the former represented by those stories more likely scripted through master cultural narratives (like family stories or more holistic and intentional life stories that may be well-rehearsed through multiple retellings) and the latter more likely found in interpersonal interactions and discourse (such as event-based descriptions or more fleeting moments in conversation) offering glimpses into emergent, unfolding identities. Stories similarly have ethical implications where there is a special place for the listener; something that is spoken or heard affects both speaker and listener. The introduction and discussion of these issues advances the field and uncovers some of the many layers within which it can be considered. More specific direction for the field is offered as well, with particular relevance for researchers and practitioners. In fact, significant parts of this book could easily stand as a primer of qualitative research. Several chapters address the practice, and experience, of interviews (and related forms of story generation), including recommendations for asking the “right questions,” and suggestions on how to deal with the data generated. A basic framework is offered for text analyses. Along comparable lines, a couple of chapters focus on supporting life writing and reminiscence with older adults and facilitating reminiscence and life review group work. These “how-to” sections are rooted in empirical and theoretical work and thought and, as such, also include areas ripe for further exploration (e.g., disembodied narratives where the teller and listener are separated, stories of the moment, stories that are never told). The limitations of this book are very modest relative to the contributions it makes. I quibble with some of the definitions offered for the terms used (e.g., the Guided Autobiography, which I see as more thematic-based than stage-based as described herein) and the extent to which the author makes short shrift of some areas or the extent to which some areas appear to be somewhat superficially covered (the role of the future in life stories, for example); my guess is that this is likely true of any volume that attempts to address the wide-ranging topics of an interdisciplinary field. I settled on thinking of this book as a somewhat higher-level introductory textbook, because doing so provided a frame for my understanding of the sometimes-broad strokes with which some areas were covered. After all, narrative gerontology is more than the sum of its complex parts—a statement consistent with a primary message of this book (and foreshadowed by my parents’ narrative style), that sometimes a story is more than a story.

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