Those who do not understand story, remain bound to the tale.
From my perspective, storytelling is not merely a form of art or a simple diversion; it is an “Engineering of Thought.” Through story, one may explore the roots of history and the breadth of culture, discover depths of reflection within myth, and fashion an effective framework for the education of the individual and society. The storyteller can devise deliberate models and measured prototypes in which speech and conduct may be tested. Story is a profound, astute, and artful language, through which values are sown and disseminated. In education, politics, management, and innumerable other fields, and even in the prevention and healing of psychological affliction, the story holds a singular efficacy.
Story Craft
Nurtured by Iranian culture, I grew up steeped in tales and myths. Out of upheaval and necessity, I made my way to the West. I had previously travelled to many Western and Eastern lands, yet this time I was bound for Canada to make my life there. Along that path, I passed through bitter experiences and, at times, sweet ones. In estrangement from work and in longing for companions and homeland, I resolved to learn the craft of storytelling. I wished to write of my visions and echoes for others. I had barely taken my first steps when I found myself plunged into great swells. It was as if I were rousing from a long, deep slumber. From a grand and open realm, I stepped freely onto a broad highway, far more expansive than the narrow paths I had once trodden.
Story Praxis
I have long held that tales, and especially myths, are the roots of culture. I came to understand that a plant must rise from the soil to branch and bear fruit. Beyond this, into the broader movement of evolution, I perceived that the plant had itself entered motion and ascent, until it was re-created anew in humankind. From this vantage, myths and tales have accompanied humanity from the beginning, and throughout the course of civilization, the innovations of the story and the novel have arisen. Having sprung from tale and carrying provisions from myth, I hastened along the great thoroughfare of story. At first, I wrote in a raw and unshaped manner. Gradually, I discerned the methods of construction. Little by little, I wove, cut, stitched, and donned what I had made. Once I had learned somewhat, I set down several short stories. I was engaged in building small houses of fiction, yet I was already contemplating the raising of a tower. I set to work on a novel and laboured over it for five years. The result was a book written first in Farsi and then in English, which I titled Love in Crisis.
Story Weaving
In Love in Crisis, I interwove history, politics, war, knowledge, education, family, and love, bringing unseen connections to light. I sought to prevent many lived truths from fading into oblivion. I longed to leave behind a legacy of wisdom from the past for the future. I came to understand that the worth of art lies not solely in the maker’s creation, but is born and nurtured in the mind and heart of the reader, where it acquires renewed meanings. I established a stage to present certain events to the curious mind, beckoning them toward fresh insights and new creations.
In this novel, I have drawn upon myth. I have written in metaphor to quicken the reader’s faculty of thought. I have narrated the story with a measure of intricacy so that the reader might wander through an instructive yet engaging labyrinth in search of clues. I have left intervals of time and spaces of pause, so that a deeper communion with meanings concealed beneath the surface might arise. The structure itself I arranged with deliberation, that messages might dwell within it. I signalled the worth of word and utterance through the alphabetical ordering of the index. I marked the station of insight by opening the chapters with symbolic light. The approach and distilled message of each chapter I set forth at its beginning.
Story Nurture
The life of the protagonist—Abraham or Ebrahim—unfolds across turbulent decades. He begins with love, ventures into severe trials, attains singular insights, and undertakes enduring works. Some have likened him to Forrest Gump, as envisioned by Robert Zemeckis, and have found the narrator’s vantage point akin to that of Jacques Tati in PlayTime.
In Love in Crisis, I did not hasten past experience. Rather, through a “Time Station” approach, I invited the reader to pause for a moment and look closely at each event. I have modelled this deliberate structure after hard-won experience. I regard it as the boundary between “tale” and “story.” I have found the function of tales to be comfort and sleep, but story, as I understand it, marks the genesis of thought and the awakening of the human being. In this novel, I have engaged the reader with the very warp and weft of culture and history.
Storyology Chair
In this work, I have not only examined the boundary between tale and story, but have also insisted upon the distinction in value between “non-fiction” and “fiction” writing. Story writing is a form of engineering: the deliberate construction of realities from the materials of truth. The creation of story is the art of architecting events and arranging speech and action in their most fitting order. The storyteller rises from memory and, by the flight of imagination, interweaves experience with recollection to raise a new edifice.
With this understanding, I set about founding the “Mihr Story Foundation” and establishing a “School of Storyology.” To underscore the value of story composition over formal essay writing, I founded the “Sci-Storic Club.” In this forum, scholars recount their knowledge anew through storic forms. Such a method aligns more closely with democracy, as it enables a broader audience to grasp even the most complex ideas and scientific discoveries.
Through this renewed approach, I arrived at a foundational concept for which I coined the term “Storyology” in both English and Farsi. One of the distinguished editors of this novel, Mr. Andrew Park, struck through the word Storylogy in my manuscript, noting in the margin: “Perhaps you meant Historiology.” I wrote back, explaining that I had coined this neologism to propose a unified field where all domains related to story might gather: coaching, creation, poetics, writing, editing, reading, research, and criticism. He accepted the idea with a nod to its necessity, offering a sound linguistic correction: “Then insert an ‘o’ between ‘story’ and ‘logy’: Storyology.”
In closing: today’s storytellers and novelists arise from a terrain shaped by the tale-tellers and myth-makers of yesterday. The aims of tales and myths are threefold: the growth and endurance of culture, the binding of scattered experiences, and the building of bridges between nations. I offer this book to those who have drunk their fill of tales—those who are now driven to understand the modern world and to leave a legacy for the future.