I have been thinking a great deal about fiction. Reading for me is an absolute joy but I must confess that this has not always been the case. I was that normal kid and teenager who resented being told what to read while in school. My now voracious appetite for reading truly began when I chose to do it for myself, for my selfish enjoyment.

There was one brief but notable aberration to whom I must credit my brother. Thirty years ago, when I was 13 years old, he left a spine-bent paperback copy of Stephen King’s The Shining on our shared nightstand and the foil cover intrigued me. I read that book over two eye widening nights that was a record for me to that point and for some time following.

In my recent mulling over of fiction, I have been thinking not about the act of reading but the impact of reading. Now this could easily be turned into a rant about the:

• Current glut of memorable fiction (we need more Cheevers!)

• Vast sea of formulaic novels that dominate the shelves because we continue to buy them en masse (sorry Dan Brown)

• Loss of the complexity of our languages due to texting and other lauded but insufficiently scrutinized communication tools and methods

• Time spent on spoon-fed entertainment distracting us from the quest for real knowledge which requires work and perseverance

• Dumbing down of journalism, information, analysis, and debate to easily digestible sound-bites (I hope The Economist remains unashamed of the depth and length of their writing as they dissect our complex world and I hope the Wall Street Journal does not succumb to the gravitational pull of turning into yet another vacuous and vapid lifestyle publication

So now that I have slid in the rant, let me communicate my core idea and that is the critical need for us to express and share ourselves through the craft of storytelling.

The Atlantic publishes an annual fiction issue and the 2009 edition provides both morsels and meals of literary delight. I was particularly struck by Tim O’Brien’s essay Telling Tails. The author of The Things They Carried and Going After Cacciato, shares his family life and his clear and melancholy argument for encouraging imagination. In it, he provides the prime ingredients for a well imagined story. He calls for vividly rendered extraordinary human events which demand the reader to pursue a form of enlightenment as they probe and debate the import of said events.

The essay clearly resonated and became increasingly relevant because in this same period I was listening to three short stories that remain embedded in my consciousness and which I joyously continue to turn over and explore in my mind. And yes, I did say I listened to them. I am not an absolute Luddite or book snob. I have been listening to audiobooks since they were cassettes and now I download them onto my iPod. This has nothing to do with laziness it is actually a matter of consumption. Audiobooks allow me to extend my “reading” time by affording me the ability to listen while puttering around the house or exercising or traveling. And I cannot get enough of them.

But back to the three short stories. With great appreciation I subscribe to The New Yorker’s free fiction podcasts and they do a lovely job of asking current writers to select published stories from the magazine’s history. An awesome and contemplative story came from John Cheever called Reunion. It is one of the shortest, yet most powerful pieces I have read (heard). A review on Associated Content says it “manifests all the fear, anxiety, and the hopelessly fabricated romanticism that permeates the essence of reunions. Charlie meets with his long-departed father who, throughout the course of the story, is revealed to be a drunken, sarcastic, rude, barbaric, caustic, proud, and boisterous enthusiast of culture. Charlie, in the opening lines of the story, seems to hold a great deal of respect, admiration, and awe for his unknown father figure, while synonymously portraying distrust and supreme disenchantment.” The story is both subtle and blunt like a multifunctional tool.

Through this medium and particular podcast, I was reacquainted with Shirley Jackson’s The Lottery. The Stephen King’s, Cormac McCarthy’s, Peter Straub’s, Richard Matheson’s, Neal Stephenson’s, and many other authors all owe her an amazing debt as her influence is apparent in all of their work. This work first appeared in 1948 in The New Yorker. She died at age 41but not before writing 6 novels and approximately 80 short stories. The Lottery begins in an incredibly benign fashion until its conclusion which hits with such force that the reader must take a long respite to absorb and bring one’s breathing back to its normal state. I will say no more – read it (low light, comfy chair, roaring fire, favorite libation and you will be set).

The third story comes from James Salter and was first published in 2002. Last Night is a tight tale that focuses on the last night of Marit Such, who is dying from metastasized uterine cancer. Rather than suffer a slow and debilitating death, she has made an agreement with her husband, Walter who will assist in taking her life by an overdose of her prescription painkiller. As Marit arranges herself and her affairs in preparation for her last night, she invites a young and beautiful family friend, Susanna, to join the couple for Marit’s “farewell dinner” and to support Walter as he struggles to deal with the events of the evening. From there the story goes places that the most brilliant and intuitive would find difficult to anticipate.

All three works represent a thin part of the wedge opening up the reader’s mind and introducing them to influence of a compelling story, All of them made me want to read everything the three authors has ever written. And they all challenged me to explore how great storytelling is a critical ingredient in branding. How layered and complex it can be. How intrigue and depth could make more valuable the relationship between consumer and brand. But of course, business communications in the last fifty years has focused on making things incredibly simple and logical, perhaps too simplistic in appeal.

There is a danger in trying to appeal to a wide audience. The story or the brand gets watered down. Compromises are made that cheat the essence one is trying to express. If we agree with O’Brien, we need to build brands and their stories around vividly rendered extraordinary human events which demand the consumer to debate and probe them. Branding has always been a very democratic process because it culminates with individual consumer choice. I believe that people will continue to choose brands on many dimensions but increasingly a critical component will be vivid, authentic, and engaging brand stories that ensure the consumer is the main character.

Jeff Swystun, Chief Communications Officer, DDB Worldwide



Posted on October 26, 2009 2:44 PM | Permalink

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