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BOOK REVIEW |
Professor of Psychology University of Wisconsin Oshkosh Oshkosh, WI 54901
Autobiographical Memory and the Construction of a Narrative Self: Developmental and Cultural Perspectives, edited by Robyn Fivush & Catherine A. Haden. Lawrence Erlbaum Associates, Mahwah, NJ, 2003, 240 pp., $49.95 (cloth).
The Past in the Present: Using Reminiscence in Health and Social Care, by Faith Gibson. Health Professions Press, Baltimore, MD, 2004, 336 pp., $32.95 (paper).
When the story is told of how academicians and gerontological practitioners became involved with the overlapping domains of life review, reminiscence, oral history, autobiography, and narrative in the 20th century, the names of Robert Butler and Jerome Bruner will surely be uttered often. Although neither of the two books reviewed in this essay attempts to tell such a comprehensive story, they could not have been conceived without the work of Butler and Bruner. Even before opening these books, one can see in their titles the enormous influence of these two men.
Jerome Bruner's constructivist theory of knowledge and his early studies of the cognitive development of infants and children challenged approaches to classroom education grounded in behaviorism. His later work expanded to become what he called a cultural psychology for the study of how people create meaning through narratives about experience within the contexts of culture. He concluded his book, Acts of Meaning, with a chapter titled "Autobiography and Self" in which he criticized the turn of cognitive psychology toward "information processing" and away from "meaning making" (Bruner, 1990, p. 137). This chapter and Bruner's other writings on autobiography were foundational in the establishment of what we have come to know as "narrative gerontology" (Kenyon & Randall, 2001), a way of grasping the "local spheres of meaning" (Gubrium, 2001, p. 20) that shape everyday life.
As described by another pioneer in this field, James Birren (2001), narrative gerontology seeks to reveal the "inside view" of aging people's lives through the stories they tell (p. viii). Autobiographical Memory and the Construction of a Narrative Self: Developmental and Cultural Perspectives, edited by Robin Fivush and Catherine A. Haden, examines the weaving together of narrative and self, beginning in the earliest years. It challenges gerontologists to consider how childhood experiences within particular cultures shape the reminiscence, autobiography, and life review of older people. In particular, the last chapter of this book—written by Bruner—describes the dynamics of self-making stories as they are revised across the life span.
Capturing these stories in later life is the goal of the reminiscence work described in Faith Gibson's book, The Past in the Present: Using Reminiscence in Health and Social Care. Throughout this book, one finds the influence of Robert Butler's (1963) famous paper on life review by older adults. Gibson writes about how health care professionals and persons in various human service occupations felt liberated by Butler's validation of the life stories told by older people. Although she does not reference Bruner's work, nevertheless one can see elements of his social and developmental constructivist views in her discussion of the meaning and value of older adults' reminiscence.
Origins of the Narrative Self
One of the persistent problems in psychology since Freud's time has been whether autobiographical memory is ontologically real or true. As explained by Bruner (1990), the essentialism of psychoanalysis gave way in the middle of the 20th century to the "conceptual self" with, as he said, "hardly a shot fired" (p. 101). In the 1970s, the image of the self as storyteller emerged, along with an emphasis on the transactional nature of storytelling and the contexts in which it occurs. In their compendium on autobiographical memory, Fivush and Haden challenged contributors to show how narratives about life experience influence children's formation of a sense of self, a process that occurs through social interactions that are structured by culture. They organized this work into three broad themes: the development of autobiographical memory and its connection to self-understanding, cross-cultural perspectives on these phenomena, and developmental and situational influences on the construction of gender and identity.
Although the life-span model of development is now widely embraced by gerontologists, realistically, most probably spend little time reading research on infants, children, and adolescents. To do so, from the perspective of gerontology can be both stimulating and enlightening. For example, Autobiographical Memory and the Construction of a Narrative Self opens with a chapter that traces memories with personal significance about selfhood back to age 3. Even children younger than that can have memories of evocative scenes. Between ages 4 and 6, more memories form about personally meaningful experiences. Children at that age acquire what cognitive psychologist Endel Tulving called autonoesis, the felt sense of having experienced something (as compared to mere knowledge of having an experience). In the reminiscences of older adults, these early experiences are sometimes related with vivid detail. One remarkable collection of such early memories asked adults to recall childhood experiences that "could be called mystical or intensely spiritual" (Hoffman, 1992, p. 18). More than 250 persons replied to this request for autobiographical memories. Some of these memories are astonishingly out of the ordinary and others quite mundane on the surface but replete with personal meaning. For example, one 70-year-old woman related an experience from around age 3 when she was camping in the Adirondacks with her family. She got up in the middle of night, wandered outside the tent, and stood alone on a moonlit night, knowing she "belonged there, and was somehow integrally connected" (p. 22). She called this a profound experience echoing through her whole life—a significant narrative that formed her sense of self.
In her chapter on how mothers talk with their children about past events, Haden states that children's constructions of memories of their own experiences depend upon whether they talked about them with their parents. Haden writes, "parent-child conversation about present and past events can affect understanding, increasing encoding and subsequent remembering" (pp. 65–66). This research prompts the question of whether older people who have few memories of childhood may have had limited opportunities for conversations with parents about daily experiences. Just as there are cultural differences in reminiscence styles, with some cultures valuing less elaborative reminiscence, might there also be cohort differences based upon parents' beliefs regarding the importance of elaborating on life experiences in conversations with children?
Several of the authors in this book report on longitudinal studies of children between the ages of 18 months and 6 years old. The gerontologist imagines how these lives will unfold through time and what a longitudinal study following these children until old age would reveal about the influence of early life narratives on personality, use of language, and social interaction. Reading these studies of children and the formation of narratives that bind "our memories, our selves, our social partners, and our culture together" (Katherine Nelson, p. 20) makes one think of the stories told by elders to Barbara Myerhoff (1978) and Sharon Kaufman (1986) and the ways these stories created and reflected personal identity and social bonds in community.
Several of the authors in this book refer to research that compared children's development of memories of their experiences depending on whether their mothers engaged in high or low elaboration about these events. High elaboration combined with secure attachment produces more detailed autobiographical memories in children. The literature on adult attachment could be combed for insights into how early attachment relationships affected the formation of autobiographical memories. Insecure attachment and the resulting disruptions in parent–child communication might be one source of the types of reminiscences Wong and Watt (1991) identified as having problematic outcomes in later life.
An important theme in Autobiographical Memory and the Construction of a Narrative Self is the role of culture as a kind of "third party" in all narrative construction and reconstruction. For example, Elaine Reese and Kate Farrant point out that securely attached children may produce different types of reminiscing depending on the types and ways of remembering valued by the culture. Their research in New Zealand noted a low level of maternal elaboration in Maori families, which was then reflected in the children's memories. They suggest that secure attachment in Maori children (or children of any culture) enables socialization of the forms of reminiscing that are adaptive in a particular culture.
In another chapter, Michelle Leichtman, Qi Wang, and David Pillemer report on research conducted in Korea, China, India, and the United States. They observe that early environments that emphasize independence and the establishment of personal identity are associated with "earlier, lengthier, and more detailed childhood memories" (p. 77). In individualistic cultures, parental conversations with children about past events reinforce the sense of autonomy and the value of personal memories. This cultural perspective has significant implications for the ways people conceptualize and value memory, which then affects responses to memory loss. An emerging literature on cross-cultural perspectives on Alzheimer's disease and other dementias is demonstrating that Western attitudes are not universally shared (e.g., Ikels, 2002; Traphagan, 2000), especially when compared to those of collectivist cultures.
Stating that immigration produces a kind of natural experiment for examining the effects of culture and language on memory, Robert Schrauf and David Rubin review a number of studies of bilingual adults and their autobiographical memories. They conclude that encoding and retrieval of episodic memory is linguistically marked and that bilingual persons essentially have two networks of memories. The increasing diversity among older adults living independently as well as in long-term care challenges gerontologists to examine the ways language and culture affect narratives about the self and identity.
Doing and Understanding "Reminiscence Work"
Faith Gibson, author of The Past in the Present, has written what may become the standard reference for people engaged in a variety of reminiscence activities with older adults. She carefully differentiates "reminiscence work" from therapy because she believes that the latter has a more narrow focus and implies an imbalance of power between therapist and client. For Gibson, one of the most significant outcomes of reminiscence work is the development of relationships and the building of community among older people and reminiscence workers whether they are professionals in health and social care, volunteers, or family members. Most refreshingly, although she is passionately committed to the importance of reminiscence, Gibson does not overstate her case for it. She notes that different people have different needs and that reminiscence workers need to be carefully trained and supervised in order to recognize who will benefit most from reminiscence activities.
A very important theme in her book concerns the ethical obligations of those who enter into reminiscence work with older people. For example, although she lists many intriguing ideas for producing tangible representations of reminiscence work (e.g., photo galleries, art shows, or plays), she carefully notes the need to obtain consent for the public display of private memories. More broadly, she argues for national and international standards for ethical practice that would include "considerations of selection, risk assessment, accessibility, equality of opportunity, consent, contracting, confidentiality, clarity about objectives and methods, partnership, and the competence and accountability of workers" (p. 74).
The fact that people choose what they reveal in reminiscence is important not only in an ethical sense but also is theoretically and empirically significant, as noted in several chapters in Fivush and Haden's book. For example, in a discussion of the creation of gender and identity through narrative, Fivush and Buckner remark that researchers need to be cautious about drawing conclusions about selfhood from the narratives related to them in research environments. They note that depending on the circumstances under which the life stories are told, gender issues may be emphasized or entirely ignored. Dan McAdams reiterates this point in his chapter, also, stating the importance of acknowledging the selection processes that shape the reconstruction of autobiographical memories.
So what exactly is reminiscence? Gibson wrestles with the definitional question throughout the early chapters of her book. She calls it a type of autobiographical memory, and states that life review, as inspired by Butler's essay, is a formal approach to reminiscence that is usually conducted between two people. Guided autobiography as developed by Birren and Deutchman (1991) involves groups of persons who write their memories about particular topics; although reminiscence work may address similar topics, participants do not necessarily write them down. Gibson offers a detailed table comparing reminiscence work and oral history, showing many similarities along with differences in terms of purpose, the persons who organize the activities, the ownership of the outcome, and, most importantly for Gibson, the investment of power in the interviewer (oral history) or the participant (reminiscence work). Clearly there are many lines of connection among these various ways of evoking older people's personal narratives, and the definitions seem to be rather fluid. At times, her writing becomes redundant as she repeatedly addresses definitional issues, ethical obligations, and tangible outcomes of reminiscence work.
Gibson opens the book with a section on "reminiscence theory and values." Here she relates standard information about the cognitive psychology of aging, research on various forms of reminiscence and their outcomes (such as improved older adult well-being), staff recognition of the personhood of the older adults with whom they work, intergenerational understanding, and community education about older people and the stories of their lives. In contrast to Fivush and Haden's book, she does not emphasize the role of autobiographical memories in the construction of identity, and although she notes the importance of sensitivity to cultural differences, the work she describes is very much grounded in Western assumptions about memory and selfhood.
Part two of the book will probably be of the most use to practitioners because Gibson provides abundant detail about how to plan, prepare for, and engage in reminiscence work. She offers numerous suggestions for topics to address, settings in which reminiscence work can occur, and ways of producing tangible representations of the reminiscences. Throughout, she emphasizes how life story telling establishes important and meaningful connections between persons—across generations, classes, and cultures. This section of the book is supported by seven appendices that contain examples of forms for recording information that reminiscence workers can use to organize interactions with elders.
The last section of the book represents one of its greatest strengths: three chapters on reminiscence practice in dementia care. Noting again that reminiscence is not therapy, Gibson observes that it can evoke creative expression, which she states is a "process by which we seek inner meaning" (p. 214). This process must be supported in people who too often feel marginalized, demeaned, and devalued. She clearly embraces the convictions of Kitwood (1997) and others regarding the essential personhood of people with dementia regardless of their Mini-Mental State Examination scores. In one pithy statement, she reveals her values regarding person-centered care: she hopes that "the authoritarian phrase ‘managing challenging behavior' and the directive, authoritarian attitudes implied will soon disappear from caregivers' vocabularies" (p. 263). This plea comes within the context of a fascinating discussion of research on the effectiveness of caregivers' humming and singing of familiar popular and folk tunes while performing routine care tasks—a kind of musical reminiscence.
Autobiography in the 21st Century
The single theme emphasized repeatedly in both of these books is that the narrative self is constructed in social relationships. As Fivush and Haden write in their introduction, "the self emerges from a collaborative constructive process" (p. ix) that unfolds through time as the individual develops. Thus, people's inner worlds are cocreated in life stories told to others within the context of culture and subculture (such as a long-term care facility or adult day center) from childhood through old age. Many of the chapters in Fivush and Haden's book present compelling evidence that this narrative constructive process is universal, though adapted in particular ways to conform to cultural emphases on collectivity or individuality. In fact, in his chapter on self-making through self-narratives, Bruner argues that the narrative gift is "as distinctively human as our upright posture and our opposable thumb and forefinger" (p. 222).
These arguments for the universality of narrative prompt the question of why reminiscence, autobiography, and life review received so much attention in the latter part of the 20th century. McAdams suggests that in the West, "constructing a meaningful life story is a veritable cultural imperative" (p. 202). In a time of rapid change and major cultural shifts, people struggle to secure a holistic sense of their lives, and narrative enables them to do this. This may help to explain the profusion of "blogs" on the Internet whose writers offer excruciatingly detailed depictions of their most mundane moments as well as serious reflections on life challenges and mysteries. This level of detail about everyday life contrasts with descriptions I recently heard from a group of older women talking about the family diaries they treasured. Comparing notes about the diaries passed along to them from 19th century Wisconsin pioneers, they expressed disappointment that so much remained unsaid. One woman complained that all her grandfather wrote were statements like "Laverne was born today" or "it rained." This group of women in their 70s and 80s had very different ideas about life story telling. Indeed, many had purchased "grandmother" books that guided them in recording memories about many aspects of their lives for future generations.
Because gerontologists have yet to discover a crystal ball to enable them to gaze into the future, we can only guess about the ways reminiscence, autobiography, and life review will be expressed by the children depicted in Fivush and Haden's book or by the adolescent and young adult bloggers whose life stories circle the world in seconds via the Internet. Will they, too, be compelled to record reminiscences for their progeny?
Should we view contemporary life story telling uncritically? Granted, we now have a theoretical foundation for understanding its significance in shaping identity, as well as considerable empirical evidence about its origins and effects across the life span. However, in light of these two books on autobiography and reminiscence, it is appropriate to recall Moody's essay on the 25th anniversary of Butler's reframing of life review. Moody (1988) worried that life review was a "new kind of gerontological myth" and was "in danger of becoming a kind of ersatz religion into which we unwittingly project conflicting hopes and wishes about the end of life" (p. 12). He suggested that gerontologists' enthusiasm about promoting life review, especially with an intergenerational component, could become "an exercise in nostalgia" (p. 15). Most of all, he was troubled by the possibility that life story telling would be locked away in the psychotherapist's toolbox, to be narrowly defined methodologically, and its outcomes interpreted within the limited framework of clinical psychology.
Judged solely on the basis of the books reviewed here, Moody's concerns have not been manifested in researchers and practitioners. Gibson deeply respects the varieties of reminiscence work done by older adults in relationship with professionals, volunteers, friends, and family members. She retains a modest view of its ability to bring meaning and well-being to elders' lives, and she clearly understands its potential pitfalls. Her consistent ethical emphasis precludes her from suggesting that older people's autobiographical memories should be used in any way to ameliorate younger persons' existential crises or to promote a nostalgic vision of life in the "good old days." The chapters edited and organized by Fivush and Haden convey a similar message: Within the span of a whole life, autobiographical memories will be constantly revised, according to the needs of the individual and the demands of the situation. They are not "set in stone" like some enduring monument to the self. These books also refute Moody's implication that life review or its various cousins would become just another narcissistic excuse for Western valorization of the autonomous individual. Both volumes repeatedly assert Bruner's conviction that "selfhood is profoundly relational" (p. 223).
Instead of narcissism, perhaps a more daunting challenge to thinking about narratives of the self in our time comes from Alzheimer's disease and other dementias. Bruner concluded his chapter by talking about "dysnarrativia," the "inability to tell or understand stories" (p. 222). He associated this with various neuropathies like Alzheimer's disease and stated that it is "deadly for selfhood" (p. 223). But is this really true, given the fundamentally relational nature of the self? The core value of person-centered care in families, institutional settings, and community programs is that loss of memory is not equivalent to loss of self as long as other people are willing to take the risk to continue to be in relationship with the person with dementia. At the end of life, just as at its beginning, meaningful human relationships are the source of affirmation and selfhood.
References
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