Caveman Pt 1, Draft of text version

[I did promise to publish this here first. It's raw, but not that raw.]

This is the story of Narrative. Understanding narrative is as good a way as any of understanding many of the chief concepts of postmodernism. It’s also a pretty good way to understand a lot of other things. Narrative is, of course, another word for story. And everyone loves a good story. They always have; they always will. We are going to explore why.
This is a story told in multiple parts; only the final part actually discusses contemporary critical theory, or more simply put, postmodernism. To understand postmodernism, you need first to understand modernism. And to understand modernism, you need to understand the past.
So, we begin with the past. Or more specifically, we begin with the dawn of narrative.

Part One Narrative

If this is the story of Narrative, we should start with a definition of Narrative. I’m using a very specific definition here (and I’m not alone in this; there are plenty of Narrative theorists out there, so rest assured, I’m not just making this up). The concept, as I’m referring to it, will come up again and again.
Narrative, simply put, is connecting the dots.
The dots are the disparate pieces of perceived reality.
So, Narrative is the connecting of the dots that are the disparate pieces of perceived reality.
Which may sound like a load of jargon, but it isn’t.

I could simplify this, and say that Narrative is connecting the dots of reality, but that would assume the existence of reality. We don’t want to do that, not when we’re going to end up talking about postmodernism. Most philosophers, and for that matter most of your average schmegeggies on the street, will tell you that there is such a thing as objective reality. There is a rock over there, there is a tree over there, we are on the earth, we are breathing air. That person standing over there is my brother Kermit. But it doesn’t hurt anybody to say I perceive a rock over there, I perceive a tree over there, I perceive that we are on the earth, I perceive that we are breathing air. I perceive that that person standing over there is my brother Kermit. If in fact there is such a thing as objective reality, I am perceiving it. No objective reality has been damaged by our adding the concept of perception.
So Narrative connects the dots of perceived reality. There’s all kinds of stuff out there, all kinds of dots, and Narrative connects them. Why? Narrative at this level is the attempt to find order in what is apparently a random universe, to connect the dots of perceived objective reality into a subjective understanding. Narrative is attempt to understand the world around us.
Or at least that’s one kind of narrative. There’s others, but they’re all connections of dots.
Narrative, simply put, is connecting the dots.


I personally maintain that the instinct to Narrative, the instinct to make stories out of things, is what makes us human. Things happen to all species. Cats and dogs live in a world of trees and rocks and air just like humans do, but only humans try to make sense of everything, and the way we make sense of everything is the thing called Narrative. Unlike cats and dogs, humans connect the dots.

And here’s an important concept: I’m not just talking story here—that is, Narrative as story—although the end result may be a story. I’m talking the process of connecting the elements, which is also the creation of a Narration. The instinct to Narrative is both the instinct to make sense of things and the instinct to make sense of things in a certain way. The human mind understands stories. Understanding stories and creating stories are two examples of how the mind works.
Humans love to tell stories, and they love to hear stories.

The is actually a history of story, a story of story, if you will. We’ll start at the beginning, at the dawn of history.
Let’s set the stage: This is the period when early humans are living in sod huts and caves, wondering where the next woolly mammoth is coming from. They’ve got a couple of chiseled pieces of flint they use as tools, and with any luck, someone in the group has a way with fire (woolly mammoth sushi is ok, but woolly mammoth on the grill—umm-umm!).
This period is the Dawn of Narrative. This is the beginning of attempting to make sense of the world in which we we live. How does woolly mammoth guy do this? He connects the dots of his (perceived) reality. He creates a Narrative to explain his world. By so doing, he invents Science and Religion in one fell swoop. (Science and Religion are one and the same thing as far as woolly mammoth guy is concerned.)
The first human Narratives are stories of Animism. Animism is the application life to inanimate objects. This same root word is in animation, where somebody makes squiggles on film come alive; that person is called an animator.

an·i·mism n
1. the belief that things in nature, for example, trees, mountains, and the sky, have souls or consciousness
2. the belief that a supernatural force animates and organizes the universe
3. the belief that people have spirits that do or can exist separately from their bodies
(Thus spake the Encarta dictionary)
The first two definitions are the ones we’re interested in.

Animism imbues inanimate objects with “spirit,” or as the definition would have it, with souls or consciousness. The rocks and trees are somehow alive. Additionally, the phenomena we observe can’t just happen—the sun doesn’t just rise in the morning by itself. The sun is not an inanimate object. The sun is not a ball of gas 93,000,000 miles away. To woolly mammoth guy, the sun is a living thing, an animated thing. Woolly mammoth guy has no tools to measure the distance to the sun, or the chemicals that comprise the sun. The only tools this guy has are a few flint knives and his own eyes to see with. But he perceives a certain reality. He sees the sun in one position in the sky in the morning, and another position at dusk, and nowhere at all at night. His instinct to Narrative forces him to make up a story to explain it. He connects the dots of his perceived reality. As a result, he comes up with the story of the sun god.
Let’s look at the Greeks, which is a few thousand years down the line from woolly mammoth guy, but a good indication of how the story developed over time. In Greek mythology the sun was a chariot on fire, pulled by two winged horses, used by the god of the sun to drive along the sky during the day. Though Apollo was seen as a god of the sun, bringing life-giving heat and light to Earth, he was never expected to carry out this charioteering duty. This work was still done by Helios, apparently another sun god (I’m no expert on myths) who kept his own identity totally independent from Apollo.
The Greeks (or woolly mammoth guy) looked at phenomena they didn’t understand, and turned it into something they could understand. They got it right as far as bringing life-giving heat and light to earth. They created stories, which we refer to as myths, to explain these phenomena. They connected the dots the best way they could.
Look at the stars. Woolly mammoth guy did. Cultural history is full of stories to explain the lights in the sky, stories that have nothing to do with faraway suns. Woolly mammoth guy, with his instinct to narrative, couldn’t just look up and see dots: He had to connect them. Woolly mammoth guy connected the dots and made constellations out of them. This was a pretty common practice, apparently, among all cultures (imagining constellations, that is). There’s nothing a human hates more than random unconnected dots.
There is an area of study on this, religion in cross-cultural perspective, that you can pursue further on your own if you’re interested. Curiously enough, there often great similarities in Narratives from one culture to another. There’s not only a need to explain the same things, e.g., creation, but a similarity in the way they’re explained. There’s a common thread of Father/Child the pops up often. In some Native American creation stories, the Father sends down Coyote to earth, and Coyote somehow ends up siring the race of humans. Prometheus steals fire from Zeus and gives it to humans. In historical times Krishna and Christ are fairly contemporary, bearing comparable messages. It’s no great surprise that humans feel compelled to concentrate on the same subjects, like Creation, the First Cause, but it is surprising how often disparate peoples come up with comparable Narrations. Why are they comparable? Another very arguable area of study altogether.

So, we feel compelled to create a story of things. Why? The making of stories is a part of human nature. But not only are people instinctively narrators, they like to hear stories. Hearing stories is the other side of the Narrative coin. Not only do we like to organize random data, we like random data when it’s organized by others.

This instinctive drive to Narrative as discussed so far, the attempt to explain perceived reality, to connect the dots, to process the random information around us, gives us a number of things. Woolly mammoth guy’s attempt to connect the dots provides us with the beginnings of both science and religion. They start out as one and the same, Animism, but soon become quite different, at least as far as Narrative is concerned. But there’s another take on what narrative can be, and WMG practiced this too. Narrative can also be the pure recording of facts–“Let me tell you what happened.” So the other big thing WMG invented was history.

“Let me tell you what happened.” WMG is going to relate a sequence of events to you. He’s going to tell you about the hunt today. How he and his brother Kermit subdued a woolly mammoth as big as his mother-in-law’s cave. Killed it with one blow. Cut off all the meat in half an hour. Brought it home to great acclamation from the crowd back in the cave.
That is history.
That is the narration of a series of real events.
Except, of course, the narration is selective. The narrator picks and chooses what he wishes to include in the story. That picking and choosing, that selectivity, is part of the process of narration. I don’t tell you everything; I tell you what I think is important to tell you. I can’t tell everything, I’ve got to pick and choose.
ALL NARRATION INCLUDES SELECTIVE CHOICES.

In science, there are seemingly infinite phenomena. I have to pick the ones to study, I have to pick the way to study them, I have to pick among the parts of my observation to select the relevant and irrelevant (rightly or wrongly).

In history, there are seemingly infinite phenomena. “Let me tell you what happened yesterday.” There are 6,500,000,000 people on the earth. I can’t tell you what happened to each and every one of them yesterday. And why yesterday? Yesterday where? The historian is a great selector. There are schools of history that prescribe how the selection should be made (history as the story of great people or great events, history as the story of everyday life, history as determined by geography).

WMG was unquestionably an historian. Selectively, of course, but an historian nonetheless. As a matter of fact, WMG left behind some of his narratives for us to study: the hunt paintings on the walls of the caves in France (which just goes to show you how French this whole subject is). These are probably the oldest narratives in existence, texts independent of the narrators, still surviving to this day. When we look at these paintings, we should ask, why this, why not something else? Why did the narrators select this part of their lives to record?
Why? The selection indicates, if nothing else, its importance. They could have painted anything; there could also be paintings of gathering apples or making pancakes. Were these activities not considered as important as the hunt? Should we interpret that the hunt was the most important activity of WMG’s life since it was the only one he permanently recorded? Or should we guess that the painters in the tribe were the same folks as the hunters, so they just happened to draw what they knew?
For that matter, are we sure it’s history?

At some point in the history of Narrative, embellishment comes along.
“Let me selectively tell you what happened.” And in the telling, we not only pick and choose, we embellish a little. We make up a few details. We make the killing of the woolly mammoth a fight to the death, blood spurting out of every tusk. We make it a better story. The audience eats it up. And we embellish some more.
And at some point we just make things up whole cloth, and the creation of fiction takes place.
“Let me tell you what happened.” Except it didn’t happen. It’s a narrative connecting not the dots of perceived reality but the dots of subjective fantasy. But it’s still a narrative, and it still connects the dots.

We’re almost ready to summarize now.
Narrative is the connecting of the dots that are the disparate pieces of perceived reality. Narrative is the processing of random information. Narrative is the selecting of which dots to connect. Narrative is the connecting of dots that don’t even exist.
Narrative is a lot of things.
1. The collection of random narratives of how things happen = Science, religion, cosmology, First Causes
2. The collection of random narratives of what happened = History
3. The collection of random narratives of things that didn’t happen, Narrative for Narrative’s sake, to fulfill that innate desire for narration = Fiction

But we’ve left out perhaps the most important form of Narrative, at least as far as modern theory is concerned. There is one other major aspect of creating narrative, and that is the creation of the self – what we know, what we remember, what we choose to define ourselves with as individuals.
The individual — the concept of the individual — is the narrative that we create for ourselves. Narrative is the connecting of the dots that are disparate pieces of perceived reality. Every individual human constantly performs this act of narration as a part of conscious existence. Our brains are filled with random data. How we connect these pieces of random data is how we define ourselves. What we remember and what we forget is the process of selection that is essential to Narrative. We select among phenomena to create our personal beliefs, we select among events of our lives (which are 24 by 7) to create our personal histories, we embellish, we even make things up whole cloth. We create ourselves.
Each of us, each individual, is a narrative. A narrative of our own choosing, as each individual is his or her own narrator.

Narrative is the connecting of the dots that are the disparate pieces of perceived reality.

Each individual comprises a connection of the dots that are the disparate pieces of his or her perceived reality.

The individual is a story of his or her own making.