The Power of Fiction
By Jo Eberhardt | July 31, 2015 |
Good fiction changes the world.
Submarine inventor Simon Lake was directly inspired by the work of Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. Martin Cooper, the director of research at Motorola, created the first mobile phone based on the Star Trek communicator. Even the TASER was invented by a fiction fan – Jack Cover grew up reading Victor Appleton’s Tom Swift books, one of which featured an “electric rifle”. In fact, the word TASER is an acronym for Tom A Swift’s Electric Rifle.
But it’s not just in the realm of science that fiction changes the world. The book Uncle Tom’s Cabin is widely credited as being instrumental in changing social perceptions of slavery, and many people believe it directly contributed to the outbreak of the Civil War. To Kill a Mockingbird had a huge impact on race relations after its release. And, in more recent times, Anthony Gierzynski, a political science professor at the University of Vermont, found empirical evidence that the Harry Potter series influenced the political views of millennials significantly enough that J.K. Rowling’s work is indirectly responsible for Obama’s success at the polls.
“If you want to change the world, pick up your pen and write.”
– Martin Luther
Yes, good fiction changes the world.
And yet, how often do we think about when we sit down to bang out tens of thousands of words about sparkly vampires, amateur sleuths, or wise-cracking action heroes?
The art we create, the writing we do, is not a small thing. Storytelling is a sacred trust; a promise between writer and reader.
I’ve spoken to many people who say it’s one thing if you’re writing a book about race or gender or injustice or something “serious”. But when they’re penning an entertaining book about two people falling in love, they have no intention, or hope, of changing the world.
To those people I say: Why not?
“I alone cannot change the world, but I can cast a stone across the waters to create many ripples.”
– Mother Teresa
Let me tell you a story.
Like many of us, I was bullied and victimised as a child. I spent most of my formative years terrified to go to school, and suffering from (as yet undiagnosed) depression and anxiety. By the time I was twelve years old, I’d scuttle between classes and spend my lunch breaks hiding either in the library or the bathroom.
One day, after a particularly difficult class where I’d been humiliated in front of my peers, I found myself hiding in the school gardens, counting the seconds until I could go back into class where the presence of a teacher would at least minimise the bullying. I was skulking behind a particularly large tree when I was approached by the school gardener.
His name was Bill. He was an old, skinny man with thin hair and a perpetual hunch to his shoulders. I’d never spoken to him before. I’d barely even noticed him, other than to be grateful that occasionally the kids would stop bullying me for long enough to make fun of him. I had no reason to believe that he even knew who I was.
“I have a book you might like,” he said by way of greeting. He handed me a novel, and then walked away. He didn’t even wait for a thank you.
I stared at the book he’d given me. I’d never seen anything like it. I’d graduated from reading The Hardy Boys and The Three Investigators straight into crime fiction and spy thrillers a couple of years earlier. But this book didn’t look like anything I’d ever seen before. The cover was bright and bold, and had a picture of a knight in shining armour, a girl in a mask, and a group of animals. I couldn’t imagine why Bill thought I’d like it.
I started reading it purely because I had nothing else to do. Within five pages, I was hooked. I read that book – The Unlikely Ones by Mary Brown – twice during the following week. Then I returned it to Bill. He took it wordlessly. We never spoke again.
But the book… Oh, that book stayed with me. Not only did it introduce me to fantasy fiction, it introduced me to a character who would change everything.
The Unlikely Ones is a story about a teenage girl called Thing who has a pebble embedded in her stomach that causes her constant pain. She’s held prisoner by an evil witch, and tormented every moment of every day. She’s stupid and ungainly and ugly, and the witch never tires of telling her so. The only consolation in Thing’s awful life is the bond she shares with a series of animals, all of whom are likewise tortured by the witch.
When the witch is killed by a group of angry villagers, Thing and her companions embark on a quest to find the Dragon of Black Mountain, who will remove the pebble from Thing’s stomach. Along the way, Thing learns to trust herself, and blossoms into the intelligent, beautiful woman she truly is.
That book changed my life.
No, that book saved my life.
From that moment on, when the bullies made me feel stupid, I remembered Thing. When they tripped me over, and pushed me down, and beat me up, I remembered Thing. When they called me a “disgusting thing” and dared each other to touch me, I remembered Thing. And, when life got ever so much harder, and I found myself sitting in my bedroom with a knife poised over my own wrist, a hard knot of anxiety in my stomach, I remembered Thing. And I put the knife away.
That book changed my world.
“As one person, I cannot change the world, but I can change the world for one person.”
– Paul Shane Spear
When Mary Brown sat down to write The Unlikely Ones, she couldn’t have known that there would one day be a teenage girl in Australia who would read it and take strength from the adventures of Thing. But that’s what happened. And that’s what I remember every time I sit down to write.
Someone out there needs my story. Someone out there is just waiting to read my words, and have their world changed forever. And the same is true for you.
You are a writer. Go and write.
You will change the world.
What book changed your world? Do you keep that in mind when you write?
[coffee]
Jo Eberhardt is a writer of speculative fiction, mother to two adorable boys, and lover of words and stories. She lives in rural Queensland, Australia, and spends her non-writing time worrying that the neighbor’s cows will one day succeed in sneaking into her yard and eating everything in her veggie garden.
My book was given to me by my mother. It was A Tree Grows in Brooklyn and was about a young girl raised in poverty who overcomes adversity to set her path to being a writer. I wanted to be a writer, too. Somehow, my mom knew that and knew this book would set me on my path. Thanks for sharing your story, Jo. It was brave and you are exceptional.
Dear Jo, enjoyed your work this morning on Writer’s Unboxed. What book changed my life? The last five words of a short story entitled “Snow” by Farley Mowat, changed my life. “Somewhere the snow is falling,” crystallized my reverence for Nature.
Rick Crosby
West vancouver
Thank you so much for sharing, Rick.
Thanks, Joe. That’s a beautiful gift your mother gave to you, and so inspiring that she gave you the right book to set you on your life path. Thank you for sharing.
Jo,
What a beautiful and vulnerable place of your heart you share here with us. Thank you. It is amazing what children and young people survive and I’m grateful that Bill gave you a lifeline and Thing helped you endure through difficult times.
And what inspiration! How can I put down my pen (or put away my files now? ok. Time to get back to that writing.
Happy writing, Lisa! I’ve often wondered how many teenagers Bill helped over the years with the careful gift of a book. I hope there’s a whole tribe of people still alive thanks to his generosity of spirit.
This is wonderful, and a beautiful reminder. Thank you!
Thank you, Barbara.
Very inspiring post, Jo. What an amazing story you have. Quite beautiful and touching. Nancy Drew was my mentor. Cliche, I know. A young independent woman unraveling secrets and clues and going on quests for the truth in that snazzy roadster. I think she may have carried a gun, but don’t remember her actually using it. She taught me that there were adventures in ordinary life and the truth was often hidden. I so admired her courage and determination.
I don’t think there’s anything cliche about Nancy Drew being your mentor. I read quite a bit of Nancy Drew myself, and always hoped I’d be as clever and courageous as her. Thanks for sharing.
Okay, TASER. Didn’t know. Mind blown.
Then, the tears as Bill reached out to you in your own Secret Garden. What an amazing story.
But what about the pebble??? Was it the seed to her inner beauty, or was it removed? Such is the power of your story that this will drive me insane until I know!
I love the origin of the word TASER. One of those quirky bits of knowledge that probably serves no purpose in the knowing, but is fascinating nonetheless.
What about the pebble? Well, you’ll have to read the book to find out…. Just kidding. It turns out the pebble is actually a magic crystal that was stolen from the dragon, and implanted in Thing by the witch to keep it safe. It is, indeed, removed by the end of the story, with both positive and negative consequences.
I’ll test my husband’s amazing trivial knowledge to see if her knows what TASER stands for.
Beautiful post that resonated in my soul. Thank you, Jo.
Thank you, Laura.
Your story made me cry. Not just for the power of what Bill and that book did for you, but that the gift came from such an unlikely place. My story, pointed out to me by a therapist, is the Ugly Duckling. I re-read it as an adult and felt the power of it. I think all stories have these one-two punches inherently buried in them. Even the “entertaining book about two people falling in love” has an arc reaching from desire to fulfillment. Sometimes all I need to get me through the day is to see that someone else got the brass ring. Often, though, I need more, and thank goodness for books so I know where to go to get it. And thank you for a thoughtful and moving post.
Thank you, Susan. I’m glad this resonated with you so strongly. It’s interesting the way different stories affect people differently. My parents tried to make The Ugly Duckling “my story” when I was a child, but all I heard from it was that they thought I was ugly and different. I’m glad you had (and have) a completely different connection to it. Thanks so much for sharing.
Wow – Jo – I am helping teach a young writers workshop and if you don’t mind, I’d love to print this out and share it with them. It is a powerful story. Thank you for sharing it!
You are more than welcome to, Ellen. Thank you.
That was inspiring. Xo
Thank you for sharing this, Jo. Such courage it takes to be so intimate, but in that vulnerability your writing truly affects others.
So many books over the years that helped me, saved me. I escaped poverty, an alcoholic and abusive father, and bullies through reading- looking back, I think Little Women helped me most. I don’t know how many times I read that book. I loved Jo (as now I love and admire you) for her leadership ability, her courage to turn hardship into a starting point to be who she was always meant to be. As the oldest of five girls, their sisterhood helped me to see that I always had my own sisters. And to this day, we understand each other as no one else ever will because we went through a great deal together. One of the first books I tried to write was my own tale of sisterhood- The Ashley Sisters.
The most recent book I’ve read that has made an enormous impact on me is the memoir The Glass Castle. It is helping me lay my own chafing, battered past to rest. I was able, at last, to cut ties with my father. Back in February, he returned to our lives and caused my family and I a great deal of pain. I went into a very bleak depression and spent almost a month physically and spiritually ill to the point where I had a plan to take my life. I kept going day after day because I have beautiful children, an amazing husband, and a dream of establishing a community library. The library happened, is happening, and a friend of mine, who seemed to sense my secret heart, told me to read this book. I did and it was like going from being something made of stone to feeling like a real human being. I saw it was possible to accept everything and still make good choices for myself. Indeed, it gave me my power back. Hm, very much like the scene in the Labyrinth where Sarah informs Jareth, “You have no power over me.”
Yes, fiction, stories. We need them. xo
That scene in Labyrinth is one of my favourite movie scenes of all time. Such a powerful phrase.
Thanks so much for sharing your world-changing books. Little Women is a great story, too. I read it as a teenager, and loved finding a character with the same name as myself. She gave me someone to aspire to. I totally get how, as one of five sisters, that book would have a profound affect on you and on your relationship with your sisters, too. And blessings on the friend who gave you The Glass Castle, and saved your life.
Can I say that starting with cool facts is even better than starting with a joke?
Such an absolutely moving post, Jo. I am so thankful you overcame all that hardship to become the woman/writer you are today. And to think that a book saved you. Wow.
Just this week I was thinking — Hey, I’ve turned 64, my husband is retired, and I’m only an okay writer. I’m going to get this novel finished, maybe even publish it under a pen name, and walk quietly away. But you and MLK and Mother Teresa have me thinking….
Is that a sweet little face on the thumb in the photograph?
Hahahaha. It certainly looks like it.
I’m so glad to have got you thinking, Carmel. Next step is to move from thinking to writing. Own the power of your words.
I’m glad you liked those cool facts. You’ll forever remember where the word TASER comes from. :)
Like the clothes we wear, the things we collect, the people we love and the choices we make, the stories we devour become who we are.
My aim is to write stories that absorbing and transforming. It’s a humbling goal but the only one worthwhile.
This came home to me yesterday at a Barnes & Noble. There were two fiction tables, one for staff picks of great fiction and the other for customer favorites. There was no overlap. The staff picks were unfamiliar, “important” looking, literary and dry.
The customer favorites on the other hand we many of my favorites, including A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, mentioned above by Joe Copeland.
I am completely unfamiliar with Mary Brown! How is this possible? I must catch up, especially with her Playing the Jack. Thank you so much. Wonderful post.
“My aim is to write stories that absorbing and transforming. It’s a humbling goal but the only one worthwhile.” Yes. A million times yes. I wish you all the best in achieving that goal.
Your observation on the B&N staff pics and customer pics is interesting. Certainly it’s possible to have no overlap between the favourite books of people, but it does make me wonder whether the B&N staff have a broader widing experience, or whether they’ve been instructed as to what their “favourites” should be.
Thanks so much for sharing.
Jo, I’m not ashamed to admit you made me cry this morning, and I want you to know you made me cry in a good way. Can you feel the air swirl around you? It’s me sending you a hug across the many miles. Sometimes even dragon seekers need to be reminded of the real reason we took up our swords/pens in the first place. That’s what you did for me today. Thank you my savage sister, from the bottom of my heart. Blessed be your journey.
And yours, Bee. I’m sending you a hug right back. Pick up that pen, and change the world, my friend.
Jo,
Thank you for opening your past and sharing your hurt and healing. What you’ve said resonates deeply with me and–obviously–with others. My mother complained throughout my childhood about my always having my nose buried in a book, to the point of threatening to have me put in an asylum because I was too out of touch with the world.
But it was fiction that taught me (almost) everything I know about the world and people and myself. And fiction that comforted me and gave me courage, as it did you.
One small story: when I learned that my seven-year-old foster daughter (who had been returned to her mother) had died in an accident, I took to my bed. My two boys (Master 10 and Master 9 in your parlance) joined me, the older one bringing a book with him. We spent the rest of the evening in bed taking turns reading aloud from Bridge to Terabithia. I don’t know how else we would have made it through that night.
Thank you for reminding me of the value of our work.
That’s a beautiful, touching story Barbara. Thank you so much for sharing it. What a comfort for you and your children to be able to turn to a book like Bridge to Terabithia in a time of such great loss and grief.
Go forth and change the world.
Jo,
Thank you for sharing your story and putting away the knife. You have a beautiful way with words and I’m glad you are using them for good.
Keep up the good work! I think you have encouraged all of us.
Thank you, Michelle.
I needed to read this today. Cheers Jo.
All the best to you, Gretch.
Yes, yes, and a thousand times yes. For me, that book series was Anne of Green Gables. I was rarely as spunky as she was, but I was as imaginative and as earnest, as into grand plans and stinging self-recrimination, as she was. She was a shining example of how I could live with warmth and generosity to all (eventually and sometimes in spite of myself and in spite of the other), yet always on the lookout for kindred spirits. Which was helpful when I was being made fun of for who and how I was. I feel very kindred-spirit-y about you, Jo. Thank you for this rallying cry and reminder of what a good story can do.
Yes, love anne of green gables, huge life changer! =)
So many people talk about Anne of Green Gables as a world-changing book series. I wish I’d had the opportunity to read it as a child. (I don’t think it has the same impact as an adult.) I love the way you talk about the story and the character, and how they helped you. Thank you for sharing. Go change the world, my friend.
Jo, stories are so powerful. We know it—but we need to be reminded of it in engulfing ways, like the reminder you gave us here.
One of my earliest “swept away” books was Hesse’s Siddhartha, where Siddhartha goes through wrenching pain to find transcendence; the final passages where he sees the interconnectivity of all life—human, animal, plant—moved my adolescent soul.
I haven’t read Siddhartha, but your comment makes me want to. Thanks for sharing, Tom.
Thank you for sharing your story! I wasn’t bullied, but I never had a sense of belonging. I spent too much time in my head and yet felt too much. Perhaps that’s why I escaped into my daydreams. My fourth grade teacher gave me LITTLE WOMEN, and I can say it changed my life.
I hope each day that my writing will touch someone and make a difference in their lives.
Thank you for sharing, Jeri. Little Women is such a beautiful book — I’m glad you had a teacher who introduced you to it.
Thank so much for sharing this, it came at a time when I needed inspiration and was asking the ever pesky – why the heck do I put myself through writing?!! Your story itself is inspiring and I love how books change lives. It doesn’t matter if you’re at the top of the publishing list – you can make an impact on anyone as long as it’s out there for them to find when they need it! <3
That’s exactly it, Emily. May you change the world again and again.
This. This is why I love you so much. <3 11
Oh, and I love the title, too.
Thanks, Mike. <3 11
Charlotte’s Web. The idea of talking to animals… really wish I could. I mean, they see and hear so much! And I’ve loved books with talking animals ever since. I also love the idea of a girl doing her own thing regardless of what other’s think she should be doing and of someone helping someone else when they could literally hide in a corner and let the world go on as it has.
Charlotte’s Web is such a beautiful story. You’ve reminded me that I need to read it to my children. Thank you so much for sharing.
Great, inspiring post. Yes, fiction can be that important and life changing. For me, it was discovering the writing of Ray Bradbury when I was in my teens. The world never looked the same again.
(Minor point, the great quote attributed to Martin Luther King Jr. is actually down to Martin Luther.)
Thank you, Seb. I came across Ray Bradbury later in my teenage years, and had a similar experience. And thank you for pointing out the actual origin of that quote. Turns out I should have done a bit more fact-checking before hitting publish.
Jo, what a powerful post. It resonated with me as a vibration down through my life to my boarding school childhood (also in Australia) where I felt alone, abandoned and ostracized. I retreated into a world of books, notably CHRONICLES OF NARNIA and Agatha Christie’s mysteries. Boarding school made me independent and fearless. Books saved me.
Thank you for sharing your experiences and reminding me about the power of books to change the world – sometimes one little girl at a time!
Thank you, Deborah. Narnia and Agatha Christie seem like such strange bedfellows, but I seem to remember devouring both at about the same time, too. There must be some kind of common thread between them. Thank you so much for sharing. May you change the world for another little girl.
Jo
What an honest and inspiring message, and so well written. Having known some practical and beneficent gardeners, I’m particularly pleased it was a gardener–and not a guidance counselor–who planted the seed you needed.
When I’m writing, I find it helpful to keep in mind a particular reader. I may not change their life, but hoping they might find some common ground between us, helps me believe it’s not all in vain.
Although I was an avid reader as a child, it wasn’t until my twenties that I found the book that inspired me to write: The Stories of John Cheever. I still turn to it for inspiration, and for the privilege of listening to a gifted fellow traveler’s words about life. Thanks for sharing your journey. Here’s to smooth sailing.
Thank you, Vincent. I haven’t come across the Stories of John Cheever. I’ll have to check it out. I love your “planted the seed” analogy. Beautiful. I hadn’t thought about it quite that way. Here’s to you changing the world for at least one reader.
What a powerful post. A novel never saved my life, but a number of the formed me early on, especially Watership Down and Island of the Blue Dolphins. They cemented in place an already strong appreciation for and love of the natural world, as well as a healthy respect for the dangers therein. It also enhanced what my parents were already teaching me about character — take smart risks, listen to your gut, do it for yourself if you can, find help when you need it, plan ahead but be able to improvise, be courageous, don’t abandon your friends, don’t expect others to get you out of trouble, etc. I’ve been writing for adults, but I often feel a pull to write the kinds of books I loved as a 9-12 year old. Though I guess Watership Down was an adult novel, though I read it many times as a kid. I guess some stories transcend age.
“I guess some stories transcend age.” Yes. Yes, I believe they do. There are so many great books that touched us as children that were never specifically written for children, and so many (apparent) children’s books that continue to touch us well into adulthood. Watership down is a great example of that. A good story is a good story, and it will resonate with the people who need it. Thank you so much for sharing.
Jo, thank you so much for sharing your story. I know reading books changed my life–maybe not in the same way it did yours–but it opened doors for me, gave me goals and excited me about life. And the fact that it was the gardener that gave you the book is so lovely–you bloomed.
I love the way you describe books changing your life. Sometimes the most dramatic moments in our lives aren’t dramatic at all — they’re a slow accumulation of lessons and beliefs and goals that forever change the way we see ourselves and the world around us. Thank you so much for sharing.
I wish every librarian and every teacher of literature could read your post.
“The Kite Runner” by Khaled Hosseini has changed my world completely. This book is absolutely incredible, everybody should read it!
The Night Angel Trilogy changed my world.
Everyon is a writer should do their bit to inspire and make what changes they can for the better. There are so many book I have read which helps to change my concept and shape some of my ideas.
Kb
Oh, dear Jo, what a gift you have given those of us who were directed to your site. I am profoundly touched by your story, and you have unlocked a painful memory I’d hidden away for 40 years. A friend gave me a book as a teen to introduce me to fantasy. That book saved my life, too (DRAGONSONG by Anne McCaffrey) because I realized there WAS life to live after being rejected and disowned by my own parents. Thanks to you, Jo, I will never look at my own fantasy writing the same again. ((HUG))
Strong stuff, Jo, and beautifully written/told. I know about bullies in childhood–I took wonderful journeys away from those troubles through a combination of science fiction and Westerns.
I’ve written a novel that I hope could change just a little of the world regarding gun violence some day, but haven’t yet figured out how to get it into the hands of readers. One of these days . . .
Have a good day.
Hi, Jo:
I’m so sorry I didn’t get to read this yesterday. I’m heading up to a writers conference next week and this is exactly the kind of inspirational offering some of the students will surely need. Thanks for sharing it so I can provide it to them.
I’m reminded of something I may have already shared here at WU, a line from Simone de Beauvoir, who was writing about Violette le Duc’s memoir “La Batarde;” She who writes to us from the depths of her loneliness speaks to us of ourselves.” Your post reminded me of that. But also reminded me of how necessary it is to reach out to that lonely reader, and be honest.
Thanks so much.
I’m not the only one whose favorite book for inspiration is, “A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.” A friend was cleaning out her attic to make room for changing it into a large one for her daughters’ bedroom. The people living in the house before this family had left books. My friend gave them to me, knowing I’d keep them in case she needed them back. One of them was Betty Smith’s classic that still inspires me. The novel I’m writing seems like a modern version of this in some ways.
Thank you for sharing part of your heart with us. It’s very brave of you, and moving. It’s also so encouraging to read about how powerful fiction is; I found your final statements in the article especially thought-provoking. I love that you think of Thing and her effect on you each time you write. Wow. I want to carry that with me so that I can sit down to write and feel powerful instead of self-doubting.
Funny, I read other people’s comments here and I want sure what my story is that really got me, but when I started writing this comment I realized the answer.
Alas, I don’t remember the book title or author name. It was a middle school book about a very spoiled princess who angered someone bad with her cruel words – I think it was a magician in a forest – so she got cursed to lose her voice. The princes proceeded to wander on a quest to get her voice back. On the way, she learned to be kind, compassionate, and finally made friends. It ended well; I seem to remember her voice being caught in a cage in a giant’s castle. There was a prince somewhere in there, too.
The book was very cliched and I later gave it to a goodwill or some such, but it helped me in life because I, too, am a spoiled princess. Wish I could find that book again.