The life story

Taking stock of the life story

As has hopefully been articulated here, we are quite sympathetic to the notion that a sense of identity can be attained through the construction of a life story. We contend, however, that it is another matter entirely to equate these two constructs. To understand the potential misstep made through such conceptual accounting, it is first necessary to consider the manner by which the life story rose to prominence within psychology.

In the 1980s and 1990s, an increasingly strong chorus of scholars began calling for a corrective in the field (Bruner, 1990; Gergen & Gergen, 1983; Sarbin, 1986); psychology, as a discipline, had become far too syntagmatic in focus. As Bruner (1986) recognized, there exists two modes of thought: the paradigmatic and the narrative. Each is associated with certain proficiencies (e.g., mathematics and literary suspense, respectively), though either can be activated irrespective of the domain of consideration. Advocates for the narrative mode challenged (correctly) that certain aspects of the human psyche had been neglected due to the field’s focus on all things paradigmatic. Among other phenomena, psychology had yet to develop a complete understanding of the manner by which persons attained meaning in their lives. As these advocates contended, such meaning was intricately tied to the stories told during day-to-day life and, more to the bone, the construction of a coherent and compelling life story. In other words, the narrative mode of thought played a central role in the attainment of personal meaning.

McAdams (1995), perhaps the most outspoken proponent of a connection between the construction of the life story and a sense of personal meaning, went on to galvanize the association between these constructs, arguing that “identity in adulthood is an inner story of the self that integrates the reconstructed past, perceived present, and anticipated future to provide a life with unity, purpose, and meaning” (p. 365). Drawing upon this conceptual overlap, a subset of developmental scholars began to proffer claims concerning the emergence and development of the life story, doing so by drawing upon what was generally known about the identity formation process (Bluck & Habermas, 2000; Habermas & Bluck, 2000).

Perhaps the most heralded element of traditional theorizing on identity-related matters is that crises wait until adolescence, wherein increased socio-cognitive abilities are coupled with added pressures to commit to a certain life trajectory, to rear their ugly heads. Recognizing that matters of “crisis” and “commitment” were the exclusive province of adolescents (rather than children), proposals that the life story emerged in adolescence (rather than childhood) began to circulate. To substantiate these claims, scholars such as Habermas and Bluck (2000) made a compelling argument for a series of story-related abilities that adolescents possessed though children did not, chief among them being the capacity to associate the self with experience (i.e., autobiographical reasoning). Reflexively, autobiographical reasoning became a requisite for the life story (see also Habermas & de Silveira, 2008).

Our position is one that recognizes that children and adolescents likely tell very different types of personal stories (i.e., adolescents demonstrate the ability to engage in autobiographical reasoning whereas children do not). It challenges, however, current conviction that life stories require some form of autobiographical reasoning. We view this requisite as somewhat post-hoc, restrictive, ahistorical, and (potentially) culturally insensitive, and believe that examinations of the manner by which the life story emerges and develops would be furthered by, at least partially, disentangling this construct from what in generally known about the identity formation process writ large. By so doing, insights into the manner by which life stories change throughout childhood, adolescence, and into adulthood would be attained, and a more fluid, incremental understanding of autobiographical abilities would be furthered.

Loosening the identity-clad chains from around the neck of the life story has the added benefit of allowing for a re-examination of its relation to other forms of story. The typical dichotomy introduced at this point in the discussion is one between explicitly autobiographical accounts and the more organic tellings present in day-to-day life—the “big” and the “small,” respectively (Bamberg, 2010b). As far as dichotomies go, this one, to be certain, is not devoid of benefit. Working to parse this and that format of story into its own airtight categorical compartment, however, can get one only so far in coming to grasp the relations between them. Why bother? Some will no doubt protest. Our perspective on the matter is that recognizing such relations is fundamental to understanding each component and, by extension, the storied nature of identity; just as a consideration of the life story may inform understanding concerning the positioning undertaken during the telling of small stories, so too may a consideration of small stories inform understanding concerning the social antecedents of certain elements of the life story.

When expanded upon (as we will come to do here), these two contentions—that some form of the life story is present in childhood and that consideration of the relation between big and small stories is necessary to properly grasp either construct—work to elucidate the nature of identity in its storied form. A final point we consider, however, is whether identity is necessarily storied. Our perspective on this matter is that the conglomerate of narrative-minded theorists arguing for balance between the paradigmatic and narrative modes of thought has overshot the mark, viewing identity as transfixed within the domain of the narrative mode. We contend that there exists both a storied and non-storied manner by which identity can be established and maintained. As a result, we work to correct the imbalance perceived by discussing how identity is manifest in the narrative and paradigmatic modes. Doing so, when coupled with our concluding comments, works to round out this article.

To summarize all of the above then, we argue that (a) proposals that the life story emerges in adolescence are based on the belief that this construct requires the linking of the sense of self with previous experiences (Habermas & Bluck, 2000) and that this requirement is unnecessarily restrictive; (b) research on identity would be advanced through the consideration of the life story in relation to more organic, interactive form of discourse; and (c) although the life story is a viable strategy by which to attain a sense of personal identity, individuals are also capable of conceiving of their identity within a more paradigmatic (or essentialist) mode of thought. We preface these points by first expanding upon the notion that the life story can be used to achieve an identity.

The life story and identity

In their process model of personal development, McLean, Pasupathi, and Pals (2007) draw intimate ties between the life story and the self-concept. Within this model, privilege is given to situated stories—narrative accounts “created within a specific situation, by particular individuals, for particular audiences, and to fulfill particular goals” (p. 262). For McLean and colleagues, such stories mediate the relationship between the life story and the self-concept. In this regard, one’s life story is thought to be comprised of a subset of potential stories available to be told. In turn, it is these situated stories that inform the self-concept. To draw tighter the ties between situated stories, the life story, and the self-concept, these researchers propose that the self-concept influences the experiences one has and the manner in which these experiences are narrated.

Recent work (McConnell, 2001, 2011; Proulx & Chandler, 2009) has confirmed that the self-concept is multifaceted in nature. In McConnell’s research on this topic, the structure of the self-concept is assessed by prompting participants to first list all the contextualized self-aspects that come to mind, and next to associate a number of traits with each of these aspects. Faced with a prompt for such self-aspects, participants will most often generate several “selves” commonly typified in terms of recurrent situations (e.g., “the first day of class”), relationships/roles (e.g., “daughter”), emotional states (e.g., “when I’m stressed out”), and goals (e.g., “who I should be”). Collectively, these self-aspects are understood to form a network of distributed nodes, with each aspect representing a node in this network. Given enough self-relevant information (storied or otherwise), a new self-aspect may emerge to represent these data in memory. ²

Just as there exists variability in the self across the contexts or roles frequently occupied, so too does there exist variability in the self through time (Ball & Chandler, 1989; Chandler, 2000; Chandler et al., 2003). The research of Chandler and colleagues has shown that when participants are asked to describe themselves as they were and are (e.g., 5 years ago, currently), descriptions of drastically different self-conceptions are most commonly provided.

Intrapsychic differentiation alone need not imply maladjustment or immaturity (Werner, 1957), however, such differentiation holds the potential to be coupled with reduced psychological adjustment and well-being (Rogers, 1961). For this reason, fostering a sense of continuity among self-aspects, both across contexts and through time, is largely beneficial (Chandler & Proulx, 2007). This is precisely the task performed by the life story (Harter, Bresnick, Bouchey, & Whitesell, 1997; McAdams, 1993). As McAdams (1995) noted, the life story is created in the interest of fostering the belief that “despite its many facets the self is coherent and unified” (p. 382). In this regard, the life story is thought to be a viable strategy for uniting the disparate facets of our self-concept in the interest of achieving a sense of personal persistence or self-continuity.

Successfully attaining a sense of self-continuity requires coming to terms with both the fact that we are constantly changing (physically, psychologically, socially, etc.) and behaving in very different ways, and the belief that we must also be one and the same person “lest all notions of moral responsibility and any commitment to an as yet unrealized future become nonsensical” (Chandler et al., 2003, p. vii). The life story has been championed as a viable means by which to resolve this paradox of “sameness in change” for the following reason: It can provide a way of explaining apparent changes and discontinuities in one’s behavior and personality through the recount of narratives describing personological constancy and change (Habermas & Bluck, 2000; Pasupathi et al., 2007). When such stories are considered over an entire lifetime, individuals are capable of understanding divergent behaviors as well specifying the processes by which they have come to be the people they believe themselves to be. In this regard, sameness (the story of a single life and of a single person is told) and change (given the right event, explanation of drastic behavioral incongruencies and personological changes is possible) can be reconciled. Within the context of the life story, researchers have assessed the manner in which individuals go about describing personal constancy and change through a consideration of autobiographical reasoning, most commonly operationalized as self–event connections (Habermas & Bluck, 2000; Pasupathi et al., 2007) and meaning-making (Bluck & Glück, 2004).

Self–event connections refer to relationships “between a given experience and one’s sense of self constructed within a particular narrative” (Pasupathi et al., 2007, p. 87). In contrast, meaning-making occurs through the provision of lessons or insights gained in the context of a personal narrative. Within the typology of autobiographical reasoning, a distinction can be drawn between those reasoning processes designed to showcase personal constancy and those designed to showcase personal change. This dichotomy is adopted below when summarizing the common forms of autobiographical reasoning.

Autobiographical reasoning processes entailing constancy

Explanatory or illustrative self–event connections are manifest when a stable personality trait is implicated in the narration of an experience. This is commonly done by describing a trait as causing an event to occur (see Table 1 for a typology of autobiographical reasoning processes complete with examples). Personal stability can also be conveyed when describing an incongruent or uncharacteristic behavior through dismissive self–event connections. In this form of autobiographical reasoning a personal implication is raised and then denied through the act of storytelling. Dismissive self–event connections are most often present when a negative or stigmatized behavior is narrated. In these cases, appeals to the infrequency of the exhibited behavior or the corrupting influence of external pressures are made in an attempt to reduce the likelihood of signaling a moral defect (Fine, 1986).

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Table 1.

Typology of autobiographical reasoning processes.

Autobiographical reasoning process	Definition	Hypothetical example
Self–event connection
Explanatory/illustrative	stable personality characteristic is described within memory; trait commonly described as causing an event to occur	“… they knew I was good at hockey, so they asked me to come with them on the trip.”
Dismissive	personality trait implied through narration, attribution of trait discounted by way of appeal to infrequency of behavior or daunting external circumstances	“I took the money from the till. I don’t think that stealing is right and it’s not as though I bankrupted anybody. That’s the only time I ever did that.”
Causal	event described as causing a long-term personality change	“After attending camp I became more outgoing.”
Revealing	event described as unveiling a previously unknown personal attribute	“… just being in that environment, I realized that I had a real wild side.”
Meaning-making
Lesson learned	myopic, often behavioral insights commonly confined to the event described	“Seeing how mad he was, that was the last time I ever ignored his call!”
Vague meaning	not confined to the event described; not as broad as an “insight”	“It just goes to show you, you can’t base your self-worth on financial success alone.”
Insight	a transformation of worldview is described	“Having that conversation really shook things up for me—appearances can be deceiving.”

The emergence and development of the life story

From the above, it is clear that the life story can be used to attain an identity. Indeed, Erikson (1968) himself (who placed the emergence of the identity crisis during adolescence) wrote indirectly of the need to create a subjective life story when faced with identity-related concerns. Following Eriksonian theory, only a self “that is defined by its history can include the highly individual choices made in adolescent identity exploration” (Habermas & de Silveira, 2008, p. 708), and it is only in adolescence that the recounting of such history becomes manageable. Building upon this theorizing, adolescence has been identified as the developmental period during which the capability to produce a life story emerges (Habermas & Bluck, 2000; McAdams, 1993).

There is compelling empirical evidence to support the notion that a life story, or rather a life story of a certain stripe, takes form in adolescence. In their seminal review of the ability to tell a life, Habermas and Bluck (2000) suggested that, in adolescence, individuals first come to draw connections between the self and experience. Consistent with this proposal, subsequent empirical efforts (e.g., Habermas & de Silveira, 2008) have found that adolescents engage in processes of autobiographical reasoning whereas younger children do not. Based on this evidence, it seems uncontroversial to conclude that, provided autobiographical reasoning constitutes a requisite for the life story, adolescence marks the emergence of the life story.

In the pages of this article, however, we work to consider whether such connections are a necessarily requisite to the phenomenological representation of one’s own past, present, and future. We contend that, though autobiographical reasoning may represent a requisite for establishing an identity by way of the life story, such reasoning does not itself represent a requisite of the life story.

In an attempt to move this claim beyond the realm of mere speculation, we first consider Rorty’s (1976) morphology of literary entities. In this morphology, Rorty distinguishes between “figures,” “characters,” “selves,” “persons,” and “individuals.” Figures consist entirely of their position in an unfolding drama. In this regard, they can be understood to possess a role (e.g., lover, betrayer, messenger) continuously and unflinchingly. In contrast to figures, characters consist of a series of deeds performed. This concept is predicated on the notion that, at some point, definitional character traits were discovered by the agent while performing these deeds. Finally, persons, selves, and individuals lie in relation to roles, responsibilities, and personal rights. For these entities, roles are viewed as means undertaken, or the means that must be overcome, in the interest of attaining rights.

Rorty’s (1976) figures can be distinguished from other forms of persons insofar as these figures do not exhibit any form of autobiographical reasoning. That is, in the lives of figures, events in which the sense of selfhood is connected with experience are not present. Characters, selves, persons, and individuals, by way of contrast, exhibit some form of progression or change, albeit to varying degrees. This is significant for the following reason: Rorty associates the constituents of her typology with certain literary authors and genres. What Rorty does not do, however, is restrict her consideration of beings to those which include some form of personological change or autobiographical reasoning.

In addition to recognizing entities within the bounds of literature that would likely not possess any common form of autobiographical reasoning but would nonetheless have the ability to lay ample claim to a life story, the historical progression of the self suggests the possibility that autobiographical reasoning may not have been an omnipresent component of our past. Indeed, Baumeister (1986) argued that, prior to and during the Late Medieval Era, individuals were largely defined by the unchangeable social roles they occupied (à la figures). Beginning with the Middle Ages, however, the instability of the self became recognized (due in part to an increased opportunity for social mobility) and, perhaps as a result, concerns for a sense of personal unity and continuity increased in fervor. Given this progression, it is questionable whether those prior to the Middle Ages, if properly addressed, would construct a life story which included any instance of autobiographical reasoning, though they may no doubt have possessed the complexity with which to do so. For them, it may have been both necessary and sufficient to endorse constancy (and the absence of such reasoning) as the order of the day. Yet, even so, by all accounts, it seems incorrect to suggest that individuals from these eras would not possess a life story. ³

A third leg with which to prop up caution against identifying autobiographical reasoning as a requisite of the life story can be drawn from more culturally minded anthropological and psychological exploits. Put simply, there exists great cultural diversity in the structure of the self-concept (English & Chen, 2007; Shweder & Bourne, 1984) and this diversity may trickle down into the manner in which life stories are conceived and told. Given that the vast majority of research endeavors examining the life story have done so using individuals from the West, it is premature to foreclose on the possibility that, within some cultural groups, life stories of even the most advanced specimens do not contain autobiographical reasoning.

Of relevance to the above possibility, when conducting his seminal research on Balinese culture, Geertz (1974, p. 35) observed a difference between the Western concept of the person as an integrated, agential being and the concept of the person endorsed within Bali, recognizing that, in the case of the latter,

It is dramatis personae, not actors, that endure; indeed, it is dramatis personae, not actors, that in the proper sense really exist. Physically men come and go…. But the masks they wear, the stage they occupy, the parts they play, and, most important, the spectacle they mount remain, and constitute not the façade but the substance of things, not least the self.

The commonality between the self-concept of the person in Bali reported by Geertz (1974) and that of Rorty’s (1976) figures should be noted.

Forms of the life story in childhood and adolescence

Early childhood

Preschool-aged children remember important elements of a story, increase the logical coherence of a story when retelling it, and are also capable of generating new information that is consistent with their interpretation of the story (Bischofshausen, 1985). Children at this age are also less likely to focus on the main point of a story in the interest of retaining factual story-based elements that may or may not be related directly to its plot (Brainerd & Gordon, 1994). In this regard, a burgeoning grasp of story structure is present, however, children’s comprehension does not match the proficiencies of their adult compatriots. This emerging sense of understanding is coupled with a largely physical conceptualization of the self (Bernstein, 1980; Damon & Hart, 1988; Hoffner & Cantor, 1985)—pressed to describe themselves, children at this age will most often refer to a combination of physical attributes, typical behaviors or behavioral competencies, membership in certain social groups, cognitive abilities, emotional capacities, moods, and preferences. Thus, in early childhood, a fledgling grasp of story structure is met with a collection of self-descriptions largely dominated by an account of physical and social characteristics. In addition, narrative self-understanding or an “extended self” (Neisser, 1988, 1993) is present. Given this state of affairs, children at this age would likely narrate their personal history by offering a narrative dominated by description of the physical and social at the expense of the psychological (see Table 2 for a summary of the characteristics relevant to the production of the life story in childhood and adolescence).

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Table 2.

Developmental characteristics relevant to the life story across childhood and adolescence.

Developmental level	Narrative competence	Self-concept	Autobiographical reasoning processes
Late/early childhood	important elements of story recalled; description based on perceived gist	distinct self-aspects emerge; physical descriptors predominate	none
Middle childhood	greater comprehension of plot; greater temporal organization	social/personality characteristics and cognitive abilities predominate	none
Early adolescence	increased interest in biography	psychologically related skills predominate; physical descriptions couched in psychological terms	illustrative/explanatory; meaning making; causal/reveal
Middle/late adolescence	increased canonical understanding tendency to spontaneously interpret stories becomes prevalent	belief system, personal philosophy, and moral code emerge	illustrative/explanatory; meaning making; causal/reveal; dismissal

Middle childhood

Children in early childhood often become focused on specific details of a story at the expense of plot (Brainerd & Gordon, 1994). In contrast, as individuals progress into middle childhood they seem to focus more on plot at the expense of other literary elements such as plight and dramatism (Feldman, Bruner, Kalmar, & Renderer, 1993). This emerging grasp of literary plot is met with an increasing competence in temporally ordering events (Friedman, 1986, 1992) and an emphasis on social/personality characteristics and cognitive/emotive abilities when engaging in exercises of self-description (Damon & Hart, 1988).

Memories become more important to the sense of self across childhood (Engel, 1999) and children in middle childhood increasingly come to rely on psychological characteristics when engaging in self-description. A self rooted in memory and the psychological is a requisite for autobiographical reasoning (Bluck & Habermas, 2000). As a result, late childhood is when one is likely to first observe the production of autobiographical memories which include some form of this type of reasoning. Although heavier in psychological content when compared to early childhood, due to the relatively high cognitive demands of producing self–event connections entailing personological change, middle-school children are likely to produce illustrative self–event connections if any such connections are generated. Finally, due to their increased sensitivity to story structure and literary plot (Feldman et al., 1993), the structure of the life story produced may increasingly come to resemble one that more accords with a “typical” story structure (see Bruner, 1990; Labov & Waletzky, 1967).

Early adolescence

Early adolescence is accompanied by an increased interest in biography and personal reflection (Burt, 1994; Habermas & Bluck, 2000), as well as several additional developments that likely stimulate a more advanced production of the life story. Of note, this developmental period is associated with the emergence of reference to psychologically-related social skills, and the couching of physical attributes and tendencies in the realm of the social and psychological (Damon & Hart, 1988). As a result, psychological descriptions of the self provided through narratives are likely to increase in complexity during this developmental period. Consistent with this notion, it is at this point in development that autobiographical processes entailing personal change begin to be observed (Habermas & de Silveira, 2008). This is likely due to the fact that, in early adolescence, individuals begin to garner an appreciation for the possibility that certain experiences (e.g., having good parents) can influence personality (Selman, 1980).

Middle and late adolescence

Middle and late adolescence are associated with the provision of belief systems, personal philosophies, moral choices, standards, and behaviors when engaging in self-description (Damon & Hart, 1988). This developmental period is also associated with a greater likelihood of interpreting stories spontaneously (Applebee, 1978) and an increased comprehension of what Habermas and Bluck (2000) refer to as the “cultural concept of biography” (p. 750). This construct entails an appreciation of when (i.e., at which life stage) certain events conventionally or typically happen. Such an appreciation corresponds to which events are included, and which events are withheld, from the narration of life stories. As a result, an understanding of the cultural concept of biography will likely further the degree to which the life story produced is canonical in nature (Habermas, 2007). In addition, a greater reliance on personal philosophy and moral awareness likely manifests itself in an increased use of moral evaluations concerning one’s own actions and the actions of others. An accentuation in the production of dismissal-based self–event connections may correspond with this greater emphasis on moral matters. Finally, given the known increases in cognitive abilities associated with this developmental period, an increasing competence with the production of a series of singular narratives provided in the interest of an overarching life story is also likely present.

Summary of the proposed developmental progression

Entertaining the possibility that autobiographical reasoning does not constitute a requisite for the life story (though it may represent a requisite for a life story used to attain an identity), we considered the manner in which the description of one’s past, present, and future develops throughout childhood and adolescence. Throughout childhood a growing emphasis on the psychological basis of selfhood likely culminates in the provision of explanatory/illustrative self–event connections within the context of a life narrative. With adolescence comes an increasing sophistication in psychological self-description. This sophistication is coupled with an emerging interest in biography and the ability to relate experiences within a larger narrative framework by way of autobiographical reasoning. It is also in early adolescence that autobiographical reasoning processes entailing personal change are observed with regular frequency. Although individuals in early adolescence are able to produce their life story with some form of autobiographical reasoning, they fail to fully grasp the cultural concept of biography (Habermas, 2007). Such a limitation is not present in middle and late adolescence. Middle and late adolescence is also associated with an increased emphasis on moral orientation and behaviors (Damon & Hart, 1988) and an advance in cognitive ability (Habermas & Bluck, 2000). As a result, mid-adolescence likely marks the emergence of comfort with a greater range of life story productions, an increased focus on the moral weight of one’s actions, and dismissal-based self–event connections.

The life story and the broader realm of narrative inquiry

Thus far, we have waxed eloquently regarding the ability of the life story to fasten a sense of identity, as well as the emergence and development of the ability to narrate the past, present, and future. In the interest of precluding the possibility that the reader has come to endorse the belief that the life story is the be-all-and-end-all of narration, we now work to place the life story within the much larger research field known as “narrative inquiry.” We contend that this maneuvering will greatly further understanding concerning the nature of the life story.

Researchers functioning within the field of narrative inquiry often draw a distinction between considerations of broad, well-formulated recounts, most commonly delivered to a receptive and largely passive audience, and more interactive, discussion-based narratives occurring in the context of everyday life. The former are referred to as “big stories” whereas the latter are referred to as “small stories” (see Bamberg, 2007).

Those navigating the field of narrative inquiry from the vantage point of big stories and small stories bring with them fundamentally different assumptions about how and where identity is to be found. Big stories have been proposed to contribute to a sense of identity through the unification of the self-concept and the provision of a sense of self-continuity (McAdams, 1993; Pasupathi et al., 2007). In this regard, the big-story biographical approach to narrative “starts from a first-person individualistic vantage point: the person as self-oriented, self-reflective, and ultimately rational” (Bamberg, 2010a, p. 123). In contrast, those pursuing identity through small-story research conceive of identity formation as a fundamentally dialogical process. As Bamberg (2004) stated, “the interactive space between the participants is the arena in which identities are microgenetically performed and consolidated and where they can be microanalytically accessed” (p. 334). Thus, identities are negotiated in the moment through the larger process of social interaction by way of positioning (Davies & Harré, 1990) within the personal, social, and cultural landscape.

Bamberg (2010b) proposed that identity is most aptly assessed through small stories. This is because a consideration of small stories allows for an understanding of the way the referent world is constructed (e.g., the roles assigned to the characters described) as well as the interactive engagement that led to this construction. Big-story researchers aim primarily to assess one’s representations of the world and the identities within them. In contrast, small-story researchers interpret these representations as part of a larger process whereby individuals attempt to convey how they should be understood. Thus, whereas big-story researchers believe that narration entails the production of an identity that maintains some measure of consistency across tellings, small-story researchers contend that narration, when combined with other interactive processes (see Goffman, 1959), contributes to the construction of identity within a specific context for a specific purpose.

As an example of the processes inherent in the telling of a small story, consider Bamberg’s (2004) analysis of a storytelling episode in which a group of 15-year-old boys discuss the promiscuous behavior of a female classmate. When describing this behavior to the middle-aged male moderator present, the boys are quick to derogate their female classmate’s actions in an attempt to accentuate their own moral character. In this regard, the boys can be understood to have invoked a master narrative (Bamberg & Andrews, 2004) or culturally available script (Tomkins, 1987) of an unambiguously misogynist flavor (Thorne, 2004). By doing this, they strive to position themselves as “responsible young men” (p. 362) in the eyes of the moderator.

Big-story and small-story theorists’ claims concerning the ownership of identity can be reconciled by recognizing that those who believe identity is most aptly assessed through a consideration of big stories and those who believe identity is most aptly assessed through consideration of small stories are focused on fundamentally different components of identity. Identity itself can be further parsed into its “personal” and “social” components (Côté, 2006). Personal identity is conceived of as the “distinctive combination of personality characteristics and social style by which one defines him- or herself” (Grotevant, 1998, p. 1119). In contrast, social identity is predicated on membership in a collective or group (Tajfel & Turner, 1979). Given the nature of these constituents, personal identity corresponds more readily to the integrative, internal life story. This position has been outlined extensively in the pages of this article. In contrast, social identities correspond more readily to the organic small stories of everyday life. This relation is outlined in the paragraph directly following.

A small-story research approach places great emphasis on positioning with reference to master narratives or cultural scripts. As Thorne (2004) suggested, the reference groups of which we are a part (i.e., social identities available to us) cannot help but influence the positions we come to adopt. When such identifications are salient, the positions we orient toward are not far behind (see Pittinsky, Shih, & Ambady, 1999). When such identifications are in conflict, this conflict is played out “discursively and reflectively; it is likely to be played out in … [the] ‘mind’ as well as in … [the] immediate and future interactions with each of these affiliations” (Thorne, 2004, p. 365). Thus, whether merely salient or in conflict during everyday experience, social identities can influence the positions adopted and, by extension, our understanding of ourselves and others.

The positions narrators take in the telling of small stories help to inform self-definitional matters by underscoring certain social identities while minimizing others. Although a consideration of such stories bring us closer to certain aspects of identity, when identity is viewed solely through the telling of small stories the formation process becomes unnecessarily “brutish and short” (Thorne, 2004, p. 362). For this reason, the link between the life story and identity or, rather, narration, social interaction, and identity, may be more aptly explored through a consideration of the recounting of autobiographical memories (i.e., big stories) and the necessarily evaluative talk of everyday life (i.e., small stories). ⁵

What, exactly would a combined big story/small story approach look like and what would it add to our understanding of the life story? Thorne (2004) suggested that a combined approach would allow us to determine why certain participants call upon certain scripts (and not others) when engaging in social interaction. In isolation, small-story approaches cannot adequately address these questions. A combined approach, however, in which the boys’ life stories are recognized, allows for a more thorough consideration of these questions. This is done by way of an enhanced sensitivity to potential personal factors contributing to the dialogue observed. In a similar manner, a consideration of the positions adopted during participation in small stories may help to inform questions regarding why and how our life stories take the forms they do. In isolation, a big-story approach to identity cannot adequately describe this “how and why” of life stories. A combined approach, by way of contrast, brings us much closer to an adequate comprehension of this phenomenon through an enhanced sensitivity to the social factors informing the stories told as well as identity in its personal and social forms.

Thus, such relational approaches work to unpack the storied nature of identity as well as its constituents. Just as narration includes stories big and small, however, might identity itself exist in both a storied and non-storied form?

Conclusion

In this article, we considered the nature of the life story on three fronts. First, we reviewed the proposal that the ability to produce a life story emerges in adolescence. Second, we considered the life story from the broader field of narrative inquiry. Finally, we examined whether there exists both a narrative and non-narrative path to identity. After discussing the available evidence on each of these fronts, we proposed that (a) the ability to produce a life story likely emerges in childhood (not adolescence), though the cognitive abilities necessary to engage in autobiographical reasoning when constructing a life story emerge later in adolescence; (b) much can be gained through a consideration of the relation between big stories and small stories; and (c) identity can be constructed within the narrative and paradigmatic (i.e., non-narrative) modes of thought. Below we briefly revisit the major points raised through the consideration of these topics, offering a series of suggestions for subsequent research along the way.