One summer, my sister and I attended a community boating camp, where we came across a girl who looked eerily like Miranda Cosgrove. My sister and I joked that we had clearly stumbled into a sailing-themed Disney Channel movie, wherein we were merely a comic relief duo and the Miranda lookalike was the main character. Our generation’s love for books, movies, TV shows and video games has spilled over into the way we imagine our personal lives: “I’m doing some sidequests this summer.” “He went through some serious character development this year.” “It’s a canon event.” “I’m in my Herald columnist era.” Imagining life as a narrative is nothing new (Just look at Shakespeare’s “all the world’s a stage” speech). But, with the dawn of new media, this social phenomenon has exploded. Just consider the Instagram story, where you can be the cinematographer, costume designer, composer and director of your own life’s movie. One might think this type of narrative self-indulgence can only produce egotism, but this needn’t be the case.
The philosophy of imagining your life as a story has no shortage of opponents. As movies like “The Truman Show” teach us, mining life for entertainment value can be both exploitative and inauthentic. Media can give us unrealistic, if not harmful, expectations about real life: For instance, if you expect dating to be like a rom-com, you will be disappointed. The stories we tell ourselves about ourselves are nothing more than silhouettes on the wall of Plato’s cave, right? Foremost among the criticisms of narrativism is the cultural backlash against main character syndrome, which some call a modern variety of delusional narcissism. The subreddit “r/ImTheMainCharacter,” with 1.3 million members, is dedicated to videos of people publicly acting like “they’re the center of the world and worthy of all the attention,” according to the subreddit’s description. Veteran tech journalist Kara Swisher claims that Elon Musk is one such egomaniac. Swisher believes that Musk, influenced by video games, thinks that he’s the hero of the great tale of humanity, and everyone else is just a non-player character, more commonly known as an NPC.
These pitfalls of narrativism — inauthenticity, self-delusion and narcissism — are real. But when deployed wisely, stories can be a powerful tool for empathy rather than narcissism. Using stories to understand our own lives and those of others is one of the reasons why humans tell stories. One of my favorite words — sonder — refers to the sensation of realizing that everyone around you leads a life just as rich and complex as yours, in which you merely play a secondary or background role. It’s realizing that, yes, you’re the main character of your story, but everyone else is the main character of theirs too. Sonder will change your life. And, importantly, sonder requires that you first indulge in some level of main character syndrome. Before you can fathom the depths of someone else’s story, you have to fathom your own first. Your own inner life — memories, desires, life trajectory, values — serve as a point of reference for understanding the inner lives of others. Psychologically speaking, a concept of self is a prerequisite for empathy. And if thinking of yourself as a book protagonist helps you develop a concept of self, power to you.
As any comparative literature concentrator will tell you to justify their degree, reading fiction makes us more empathetic. When you read an emotionally immersive book, you step into the shoes of the main character. Empathizing with fictional characters can be practice for empathizing with real people. When your friends “drop their lore,” listen as if you’re reading a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel for the first time.
This language can extend beyond how you think about your relationships and also help with how you actively form them. Movies, books, TV shows and video games are a shared cultural touchstone. In the same way that the American ritual of baseball has been a source of countless idioms in American English, using narrative references to describe your life unites us in the language of shared popular culture. When you say something like, “He’s the Jim to my Pam,” you provide fans of The Office with a familiar roadmap to understand your story.
In my life, I’ve watched my best friends’ character arcs play out over the years, through the good, bad and mid seasons. I’ve watched them grow, change and make hard choices. For some friends, like my sister and those from my childhood, I was a major player right away. For others, I advanced slowly from being a background extra to a main cast member. I’ve played many archetypes in my career: best friend, mentor, rival, trickster, nerd, love interest and comic relief. For some, I’ve been in the writer’s room. For others, just an enthusiastic audience member. Regardless of my role, seeing my friends as the main characters of their stories has made me appreciate them more.
Next time you want to get to know somebody deeply, consider asking them questions that invite them to imagine their life as a story. I love how these conversations can be playful, yet intimate.
What kind of character arc are you in right now?
What’s the weirdest side quest you did this year?
What genre or medium would your life be (horror movie, sitcom, Shakespearean tragedy)?
If your life were a movie, what Oscar award would it win?
If you’re the main character, what character am I in your story?
In “Moral Disorder and Other Stories,” the great novelist Margaret Atwood wrote that “in the end, we’ll all become stories.” So listen lovingly.
Evan Tao ’27 can be reached at evan_tao@brown.edu. Please send responses to this column to letters@browndailyherald.com and other opinions to opinions@browndailyherald.com.
