Our lives are made up of stories — those that are told, heard, read, said.
I’ve read my fair share of fictional novels and stories. A lot of my day is spent reading something. And I can say, I have gotten attached to many characters as I’ve read different stories. We all have favourite characters and worlds. But, why do we get so attached to these fictitious characters? Why do we respond to them as if they were real people? The answer is simple — empathy and sympathy.
In our brains, empathy comes from the right supramarginal gyrus. On some level, empathy is a conscious process, but at a neurobiological level, there are certain functions that either exist or don’t in each of us. For instance, empaths have a high-functioning gyrus, whereas sociopaths have a lower one.
In real life, we enhance our empathy by trying to fill in the details of what we don't know about someone's situation. Similarly, we do this with fictional characters. In fact, it’s often easier to empathise with fictional characters because we are provided with more detailed and intimate knowledge about them than we typically have about real people.
It is human nature to fill in the blanks and try to understand someone better — in reality and fiction. On a community level, we do this through Fanfiction. Another way that we elaborate the details of characters’ lives is through headcanons — a term in fandom which refers to what an individual believes to be real or true about a character though it is not specifically mentioned in the story (‘canon’).
Neurobiologically, the consumption of fiction elicits authentic responses. For instance, when we read about the scent of burning wood, the olfactory centre of our brain becomes activated. The smell is not actually there, but we are so familiar with it that we feel as if it is. Many literary and visual devices can help recreate this experience — such as metaphors or imagery.
Defining what it means to be ‘real’ is a significant philosophical dilemma we face. We are real because we contain flesh and blood, and we can engage with others in real life on a touchable level that we could not with fictitious characters because they are ‘unreal’. At most, they are amalgams or representations of real people, but ultimately they do not hold any actual solitary identity in real life. Regardless of whether characters are truly real or not, our familiarity with them makes them emotionally potent and powerful, similar to the deep emotional connection we would experience at a biochemical level with well-known strangers.
In movies, we start extending our feelings about the character to the actor who portrays them. This process, referred to as “parasocial interaction,” involves viewers developing a sense of connection and attachment to on-screen personas, and associating the emotions and traits of that character to the actor. Moreover, the lines between reality and fiction are blurred as the actor undergoes their own process to ‘become’ a character — often interpreting and engaging with a story with their own understanding.
However, philosophers argue that our emotional reactions to fictional characters may not be genuine, as these responses are not directed toward actual individuals.
Colin Radford, an English philosopher, argued that it is “irrational, incoherent, and inconsistent” to think we can direct and tie real emotions to unreal objects. He raises the question of how our emotional reaction to a distressing event would change if we learned it was unreal. Our empathetic response, he argues, is rooted in our belief in the event’s truth. Yet, when we read or watch fiction, we are still somehow greatly moved by it, knowing it is fake.
Kendall Walton, an American philosopher, suggests the concept of “quasi-emotions”. The almost-but-not-quite emotions are based on make-belief, not belief. For example, the fear we feel while watching a horror movie is not genuine fear but rather “quasi-fear.” Children play make-belief all the time; whether it is imagining their friend is a monster chasing them or their dolls are going to a fancy school, but, when the game is over, they will go back to their friends as normal and the dolls will still be seen as inanimate objects. Quasi-emotions account for the enjoyment we feel experiencing different emotions whilst watching or reading a fictitious story.
Belief is what regulates our intellectual knowledge that fiction is not fact. Alief is our brain’s capacity to temporarily suspend the awareness that fiction is not reality.
Tamar Gendler, a philosopher, proposes the idea that our consciousness operates on two conflicting levels. While immersed in stories, we may become “lost” in them, but upon their end and our return to everyday life, we maintain the awareness that the stories were not real. In contrast, he argues, the process of alief matures with age. This developmental aspect could explain why children tend to be more captivated by stories compared to adults.
Psychologists have also been looking into what is called ‘experience-taking’. This is when we subconsciously take on traits, thoughts, beliefs, attitudes and behaviours of our favourite characters. This may be attributed to our strong identification with them. In one experiment which required participants to read in front of a mirror, researchers found that fewer readers went through ‘experience-taking’ because they were constantly reminded of their self-concept and self-identity. Psychologists also found that for the ‘experience-taking’ to take effect, the story needed to reveal characteristics shared by the reader sooner rather than later.
‘Perspective-taking’ is different from ‘experience-taking’ — it is when you put yourself in someone else’s shoes without losing sight of yourself.
‘Experience-taking’ is very powerful considering it happens on an unconscious level under the right circumstances. Over time, positive change can develop in an individual due to this process — for example, increased confidence. [Medicaldaily.com]
In conclusion, the human connection to fiction is a multifaceted concept, blending neurology, emotions, and individuality. Empathy forms strong bonds with fictional characters, amplified by detailed storytelling. Literary elements trigger real sensory responses. While debates on emotions toward the unreal persist, the concepts of alief and experience-taking emphasise fiction’s authentic influence on emotions and personal growth. The power of this connection lies in its ability to evoke genuine emotions, shaping our worldview and fostering empathy, making fiction an integral part of the human experience.
