Fictionality and Perceived Realism in Experiencing Stories: A Model of Narrative Comprehension and Engagement
Fictionality and Perceived Realism in Experiencing Stories: A Model of Narrative Comprehension and Engagement
Fictionality and Perceived Realism in Experiencing Stories: A Model of Narrative Comprehension and Engagement
ORIGINAL ARTICLE
This article offers a theoretical framework to explain circumstances under which percep-
tions of ‘‘unrealness’’ affect engagement in narratives and subsequent perceived realism
judgments. A mental models approach to narrative processing forms the foundation of
a model that integrates narrative comprehension and phenomenological experiences
such as transportation and identification. Three types of unrealness are discussed:
fictionality, external realism (match with external reality), and narrative realism
(coherence within a story). We gather evidence that fictionality does not affect narrative
processing. On the other hand, violations of external and narrative realism are con-
ceived as inconsistencies among the viewer’s mental structures as they construct mental
models of meaning to represent and comprehend the narrative. These inconsistencies
may result in negative online evaluations of a narrative’s realism, may disrupt engage-
ment, and may negatively influence postexposure (reflective) realism judgments as well
as lessen a narrative’s persuasive power.
doi:10.1111/j.1468-2885.2008.00322.x
The power of stories is well noted (Bruner, 1986; Green & Brock, 2000; Strange,
2002). From nothing more than a sequence of textual, visual, and/or auditory sym-
bols, we construct worlds that are cognitively and emotionally engaging (Oatley,
2002) to the point that we may have difficulty returning to the real world and
may even see aspects of the real world differently afterward (Gerrig, 1993). This
experience of engagement is referred to with terms such as transportation, absorption,
and entrancement (e.g., Gerrig, 1993; Nell, 1988). Recent research suggests that
narrative engagement mediates relationships between exposure and acceptance of
story-related beliefs (Green, 2004; Green & Brock, 2000); for example, the relations
between exposure to entertainment education content and health-related attitudes
and practices (Slater & Rouner, 2002) and between television programs and public
policy preferences (Slater, Rouner, & Long, 2006).
film (e.g., Ohler, 1994). In the present article, our primary concerns are not with
delineating differences between media but with audience members’ comprehension
of and engagement with narratives. The model of narrative comprehension and
engagement presented here explicates the relationships among comprehension
mechanisms, engagement-related experiences, and subsequent perceptions of the
story, and ultimately extends to the influences of narratives on audience members.
assembles new information with information that the reader or viewer has already
encountered (e.g., setting, characters, and events). It also refers backward to answer
questions or clarify uncertainties. The assembly process is successful to the extent
that incoming information can be incorporated into the story as it exists up to that
point. That is, new information can be comprehended in light of that which is
already known. It is unsuccessful when the reader or viewer has difficulty incorpo-
rating new information into the extant mental models. It is tempting to invoke the
metaphor of a train moving along its tracks. But this would be inaccurate because
with the situation model, the tracks are not assembled until the train passes. In front
of the train would lie unrelated pieces of rail, wooden ties, and railroad spikes.
Behind it would lie an intact railway. Under the train, representing the present
moment in the narrative, the pieces are being put together and the track is being
constructed as the narrative unfolds. Most important is that, at any given moment,
the track being assembled must fit with the track that already has been assembled
both immediately previously and miles back on the narrative’s path.
Individuals construct mental models of a story from preexisting schemas and
stereotypes (stereotypes being a specific category of schemas that represent people or
groups; Fiske & Taylor, 1991). Schemas are distinguishable from mental models in
that schemas exist independent of the story, whereas mental models are cognitive
representations of events and states of affairs constrained in the time and space of the
narrative (Brewer, 1987; Johnson-Laird, 1983; Markman, 1999; Roskos-Ewoldsen,
Davies, & Roskos-Ewoldsen, 2004). Because a story cannot make explicit all the
details necessary for a coherent story, the viewer relies on schemas from previous
experience to create a model of the story at hand (Rapaport & Shapiro, 1995). Thus,
a viewer or reader uses preexisting, generic schemas of, for example, people and
events to construct specific mental models that represent a specific story.
In addition to the schemas that we use all the time and that contain information
that applies both to the real world and to any narrative world we might encounter
(Fiske & Taylor, 1991; Graesser et al., 2002), schemas for story and genre are also
important, at least initially, in processing narratives (Ohler, 1994). Story schema
separates narrative experience from real life by imposing a narrative form or struc-
ture and by implying causality among events. Unlike real life, stories have a begin-
ning, middle, and end (Lacey, 2000; Nell, 1988). Thus, when we turn on a television
program or when someone says, ‘‘Let me tell you a story,’’ we retrieve a story schema
and with it the expectation, among other expectations, that upcoming information
will be causally and temporally related and that some conflict will be explicated and
resolved. Similarly, activation of a genre schema and therefore retrieval of knowledge
about genre allows us to anticipate the nature of the upcoming story. If, for example,
someone says, ‘‘In a park, a police officer discovered an old woman standing over
a corpse’’ or if the opening scene of television program shows us this, our schema for
the mystery genre may be activated. Science fiction, romantic comedy, and crime
drama all follow a story structure but differ in issues, conflicts, and, possibly, the
story progressions they present (Graesser et al., 2002). Different genres have typical
patterns of story, setting, and characters, and if readers possess such knowledge, they
are able to use the general pattern to construct the story for an unknown instance of
a particular genre (Segal, 1995a).
In addition to the situation model, the processing of a narrative requires cogni-
tive representation of the world in which the story occurs and representations of the
characters who inhabit that world. It may be impossible to truly separate these
intertwined mental models. However, for the purpose of exploring the role of con-
sistency and inconsistency among elements of narrative, we conceive of the story
world and the characters as represented by conceptually separate mental models that
interact with and are subordinate to the situation model.
Story world
The story world model is a relatively static mental model representing ‘‘a conceptual
domain that is temporally and spatially coherent’’ (Segal, 1995a, p. 71). It covers
setting and all that setting implies: place, time period, and general contemporary
state of affairs. Part of the story world model is the ‘‘story world logic’’—a set of
implicit constraints and rules that indicate what is possible in the story world and
what is not (Segal, 1995a). If the park in which a police officer finds an old woman
and a corpse is set in 1960s East Berlin, not only are time and place set but also logical
implications are inferred. For example, DNA evidence is not yet possible but finger-
printing is; cell phone technology is not yet available; and East and West Berlin are
divided in the Cold War. Each of these points becomes a rule in the story world logic
and each applies universally to all characters at all times.
The story world model starts with the assumption that the fictional world works
like the actual world. Segal (1995a) points out that the ‘‘first approximation’’ of the
story is that it complies with temporal and spatial constraints that rule the real world
and that the characters behave, think, and feel the way real people do. The ‘‘default
condition is verisimilitude’’ (Segal, 1995a, p. 72). Often, however, the story world
deviates from real life, forcing the audience to modify its understanding of the story
world logic while trying to maintain coherence in the story world (Segal, 1995a).
Using the actual world as a default makes sense. This heuristic saves time and energy
because we can simply assume that a fictional world functions like the actual world,
leaving only the task of tracking differences. In 1960s East Berlin, travel by car, train,
and plane was technologically possible, just as today. However, idiosyncratic of that
time and place, such travel may be restricted by the East German government.
Although story world logic is an important feature in processing narratives, often
the perceiver is not overtly conscious of it. However, it may be activated or brought
to consciousness. For example, an audience member knows at some level that cell
phones do not exist in 1960s Berlin. But the audience member would become overtly
aware of this knowledge only if the logic is violated, for example, by the police officer
answering a ringing cell phone.
Characters
Characters within a narrative are represented by character models (Rapp, Gerrig, &
Prentice, 2001). They also originate from previous knowledge, often in the form of
stereotypes (Graesser et al., 2002). The old woman in the park initially would be
represented by an ‘‘old-woman’’ stereotype. Then, the character model may begin to
evolve if we learn, for example, that she slipped a handgun into her coat pocket as the
police officer approached. The police officer also would be merely a stereotype until
we learn more about her. Once developed, character models contain characters’
identities and traits as well as their motivations and goals (Magliano, Zwaan, &
Graesser, 1999; Zwaan, Langston, et al., 1995). Character models may be established
as viewers infer traits based on characters’ behaviors through the course of events
(Rapp et al., 2001). Characters’ identities and traits remain relatively constant as the
story progresses or, more precisely, as the situation model moves forward. Con-
versely, characters’ relationships both to their own goals and to other characters
evolve with the progression of situation model. Thus, as the setting, characters,
and central objects are established, the situation model is initiated and more infor-
mation can be incorporated. For example, when the police officer rolls the body over,
we discover a large spot of dried blood in the center of the victim’s chest.
Zubin and Hewitt (1995) argue that the ‘‘relation between the story and the story
world in which it takes place, is fluid’’ (p. 130). Different theoretical approaches,
such as the constructionist theory (Graesser et al., 2002) and the event-indexing
model (Zwaan, Langston, et al., 1995), articulate the scope of the situation model
somewhat differently. We find it useful to distinguish between that which is con-
stantly changing—situation model—and that which is relatively more constant
throughout the narrative—story world and character models.
In summary, a situation model can be thought of as the vehicle through which
characters interact and experience events within a given story setting. When initiat-
ing engagement with a narrative, audience members use preexisting knowledge
structures about places, times, people, and events, as well as stories and genres to
begin constructing mental models and, from them, an understanding of the narrative
at hand. Characters develop as new information about them is presented; settings
vary from the real world to the extent that exceptions are implied or explained.
The more a story world varies from what we know, the more work we must to do
construct it (Segal, 1995a) but also the more rewarding that work may be.
systems and capacities become focused on the events occurring in the narrative’’
(Green & Brock, 2002, p. 324). Readers ‘‘lose track of time, fail to observe events
going on around them, and feel they are completely immersed in the world of the
narrative’’ (Green, 2004, p. 247). This transportation experience is compared to
Csikszentmihalyi’s (1990) concept of flow—the experience of total absorption into
an activity. During both transportation and flow, ‘‘the person’s attention is com-
pletely absorbed by the activity [and individuals] stop being aware of themselves as
separate from the actions they are performing’’ (Csikszentmihalyi, 1990, p. 53; cf.
Green & Brock, 2002). According to flow theory, absorption is facilitated by a balance
between the ability of the individual and the challenge of the task (Csikszentmihalyi,
1990, 1997). Sherry (2004) applied this concept in arguing that media activities are
enjoyable to the extent that media users’ ability to comprehend the story matches the
program’s complexity or that video games are enjoyable to the extent the player’s
abilities match the game’s level of difficulty. Invoking the concept of flow is import-
ant because it suggests that engagement in narrative requires engagement in an
activity and near complete focus on that activity. In art or music, for example, flow
is centered on the creation of the artistic piece. In the case of narrative then, flow
should be centered on the construction of meaning. For example, as information
about the corpse, the woman, and the police officer is presented, a complex set of
models must be constructed. The gun in the old woman’s pocket suggests she may be
more than an innocent passerby. That the blood is dry suggests she is not the killer or
at least she did not just kill the victim. The old woman tells the officer that she was
out for a walk and stumbled upon the body. We can see that this would seem likely to
the officer because we know the officer is unaware of the gun in the woman’s pocket.
Our knowledge of the gun suggests there is more to the woman’s story. This narrative
experience is engaging to the extent that cognitions are focused on assembling
coherent models of the setting, events, characters, and their relationships, as well
as hypothesizing explanations and anticipating incoming information: Did the
woman bring the gun or might she have taken it from the dead man?
High levels of experiential engagement with a narrative can be seen as a flow-like
state centered on the construction or realization of the narrative. ‘‘Being lost’’ (Nell,
1988) can be understood as losing self-awareness as a result of complete focus on
constructing and elaborating mental models to represent the narrative at hand.
Transportation into narrative then can be seen as the extent to which an audience
member becomes absorbed into the activity of constructing mental models.
Deictic shift
When we engage with a narrative, not only might we lose awareness of our self and
surroundings but we also enter the story world. This psychological relocation into
the story separates narrative experience from absorption in nonnarrative activities,
such as sport or art. Deictic shift theory is useful in explaining this transition from
the actual world to the story world. Deictic shift theory (Duchan, Bruder, & Hewitt,
1995) maintains that in addition to creating the mental model of the story, readers
must locate themselves in the story by shifting the center of their experience from the
actual world into the story world: They are performing a ‘‘deictic shift’’ (Segal, 1995b).
The term deixis refers to an expression (a word, symbol, or action) that requires
contextual information in order to have meaning. Words such as I, now, or here refer
to different things depending on speaker, time, and location. The deictic center is the
cognitive structure that contains elements of a particular time, space, and person—
usually, the here and now of a person (Segal, 1995b). Experiencing a narrative requires
that the readers switch to the time and location of the narrative and the subjective
world of the characters from whose point of view the story is told. Readers are
motivated to perform this deictic shift because deictic adverbs such as here, now, today
make sense only from the deictic center of the story (Galbraith, 1995).
Boundaries, such as a chapter heading or rising curtain, cue the audience to
create mental space and to shift deictic centers in preparation for an upcoming
narrative experience (Segal, 1995a, p. 74). Deictic shift theory also explains why
people get the impression of direct experience when processing a narrative. In order
to understand the story, readers place themselves in the deictic center of the story
rather than remaining with their own, actual location, and literally perceive the story
from a perspective inside the story world (Zubin & Hewitt, 1995).
Indicators of deictic shift in filmic narratives are somewhat different from those
in written fiction but serve the same function. For example, psychological verbs
describing states of mind of the characters that are typical in fictional texts (Segal,
1995a) are rather unusual in film because they require a narrator. But characters in
film do use deictic verbs and adverbs in their direct speech, as well as nonverbal
deictic markers like pointing at something or looking in someone’s direction. Psy-
chological events are either expressed directly (‘‘I hate you’’) or conveyed through
facial expressions or gestures. Formal devices such as close-ups, cuts, or still frames
enhance this effect. Kuno (1987) compares the perspective that language can create
with perspectives that camera angles create visually. The emotional closeness sug-
gested by the screen may help construct a powerful deictic center in filmic narratives.
Moreover, there are always cues present as to location and time from which a viewer
may infer setting.
hesitantly wait to see what will happen next’’ (p. 14). Thus, transportation can be
seen as a flow experience in constructing the mental models of a story that is
accompanied by the positioning of oneself in the story world. To the extent that
this activity occupies cognitive resources, the audience member must give up con-
sciousness of his or her actual self and surroundings.
The second consequence of the deictic shift, at the phenomenological level, is that
readers or viewers identify with the character from whose position a story is told, in
the sense that they adopt a point of view that is not theirs and see the fictional world
through someone else’s eyes (Cohen, 2001; Oatley, 1994, 1999). Thus, identification
as it is implied by deictic shift theory encompasses taking on perspectives and
perceiving the events in a story with the bias of a character. In our example, the
situation is described as the police officer discovering the woman and the corpse,
suggesting the perspective of the officer. Alternatively, if the example had begun with
the woman noticing the approaching police officer, then the old woman’s perspec-
tive would have been suggested.
There are interpretations of identification that are contingent on the actual or
wishful similarity of a character to the reader, or on a reader’s liking of a character
(Liebes & Katz, 1990), that involve the reader or viewer giving up his or her own
identity and momentarily confusing identities (Zillmann, 1994). As Cohen (2001)
suggested, it is useful to keep these different notions separated. He argues in favor
of the point-of-view-interpretation of identification and defines it as ‘‘a process that
consists of increasing loss of self-awareness and its temporary replacement with height-
ened emotional and cognitive connections with a character’’ (p. 251). Cohen empha-
sizes that identification is not an attitude, an emotion, or a perception, but
a phenomenological process. This is consistent with deixis theory, which describes
the importance of point of view in constructing the situation model. As a process,
identification is no different from social interaction of everyday life, where it is fun-
damentally important to take on the perspective of another person and anticipate
reactions while planning one’s own actions (Cohen, 2001). Kuiken and colleagues
compare this position to a metaphor rather than simile: The reader is the character
for the duration of the story instead of recognizing similarities between him- or herself
and the character (Kuiken, Miall, & Sikora, 2004; Kuiken, Phillips, et al., 2004).
So far, we have described a theoretical framework of narrative processing with
mental models. In order to understand the story, viewers must construct a situation
model, character models, and a story world model with a specific story world logic.
Moreover, they must position themselves at the deictic center within the situation
model. We argued that this enables the viewers to take on the perspective of a char-
acter (identification).
We have redefined transportation as experiencing flow while constructing mental
models. We now turn to ways in which this process may be disrupted by issues of
unrealness. We focus on three reasons viewers may perceive a story as untrue: (a) The
story is invented, (b) the story is unlike what happens in the real world, or (c) the
story is incoherent.
is snowing outside if all visual or sensory cues tell me otherwise. When engaging
with fiction, I do not suspend a critical faculty, but rather I exercise a creative
faculty. I do not actively suspend disbelief— I actively create belief.
(Worth, 2004, p. 447)
This argument is supported by psychological research showing that texts are
approached with initial credulity and not with incredulity, unless otherwise prompted.
Understanding and acceptance are thought of as the same process, whereas disbeliev-
ing requires additional mental resources (Gilbert, 1991). Gilbert, Krull, and Malone
(1990) found that both true and false information were represented as true by default.
This biased subsequent judgments such that information that was presented as false
was more often mistaken as true. Also, when processing was interrupted and subjects
did not have an opportunity to think about the information more thoroughly and
‘‘unaccept’’ or ‘‘unbelieve’’ it, they were more likely to mistake false information as true
than the reverse. In a similar way, time pressure and cognitive load lead to an increase
in mistaking false information as true (Gilbert & Gill, 2000; Gilbert, Tafarodi, &
Malone, 1993). Gilbert concludes that ‘‘[p]eople are credulous creatures who find it
very easy to believe and very difficult to doubt’’ (p. 117).
Gilbert’s research focused on false information rather than fictional texts, yet
the two are similar in that the events described in both types of text do not exist in
the actual world. Given this, Gilbert’s results have two consequences. First, credu-
lity as default implies that people do not have to overcome incredulity or suspend
disbelief. Instead, they immediately construct a mental representation of the story
without worrying about the epistemological status of the story. Also, the primary
reaction to a fictional narrative is not to literally believe that a fictional character
exists or existed or that an event has actually happened. The application of Gilbert’s
findings in narrative processing suggests that perceivers believe that the fictional
character is in danger, in joy, or in distress (Yanal, 1999). We do not think of our
police officer as real or fictional, but as a person investigating what appears to be
a murder. Second, the same credulity is used to process context-free assertions—
that is, information about the state of affairs that apply to both the fictional and the
actual world (Gerrig & Prentice, 1991). Information in the narrative is uninten-
tionally accepted as true and must be ‘‘unaccepted’’ effortfully. Along these lines,
Gerrig and colleagues actually reverse the argument of a ‘‘willing suspension of
disbelief’’ into a ‘‘willing construction of disbelief’’ (Prentice & Gerrig, 1999;
Prentice, Gerrig, & Bailis, 1997). ‘‘Our central claim is that people must engage
in effortful processing to disbelieve the information they encounter in literary
narratives’’ (Gerrig & Rapp, 2004, p. 268). Gilbert (1991) points out that the
assumption of default believing is implicitly made in dual-process theories (Petty
& Cacioppo, 1986) where resource depletion reduces the ability to reject proposi-
tions that normally would not be believable. This means that people end up believ-
ing false propositions and not holding some neutral stance toward them. Gilbert
(1991) concludes that it
would seem, then, that for models of persuasion to make sense, they must
implicitly assume that acceptance occurs prior to or more easily than rejection,
or both, and that as a result, this initial acceptance remains even when
subsequent attempts at rejection are experimentally impaired. (p. 111)
Fictionality is not a problem for consumers of fiction. Within our mental models
approach, we conceptualize the information that a story is fictional as part of the
mental model that viewers create from a narrative. We conceive of this representa-
tion as a link between the story world model, the situation model, and the general
knowledge of what fictionality means. This makes fictionality simply one more
concept among many elements of the story that are represented, such as the events,
the characters, or the causal links among them. The link from fictionality to the
mental models of a story is created at the beginning of the story, and it may be
initially linked to all incoming elements. Usually, fictionality is not prompted in the
course of a story, as perceivers are busy processing the occurring events, and the
pragmatic status of a text is not relevant to the events and actions of the characters.
The situation model and the story world model will become stronger as their ele-
ments are activated during the narrative. The link to the concept of fictionality,
however, if not activated, should become weaker. Thus, when processing the story,
or thinking about it later, the fictionality concept should not readily activate. But
when prompted or primed to think about the pragmatic status of the story, viewers
are capable of retrieving information and implications related to fictionality. This
also is a possible explanation for a lack of source discounting under heuristic pro-
cessing conditions (e.g., Shrum, Burroughs, & Rindfleisch, 2004). Thus, the repre-
sentation of fictionality can be compared to tacit knowledge—knowledge that exists
and is usually not used in a conscious way or verbalized but when retrieved can
influence actions and thoughts (Polanyi, 1958).4
Rather than being a problem for the audience, fictionality as an element of the
mental model is functional for narrative experience in that it alerts the audience
that the story world logic may not conform to the actual world and that extensions
may be necessary. Extending the story world rules in deviation from the actual
world is a normal activity in processing fiction, and moreover it leaves intact the
other, unspecified rules of the real world. As Segal (1995a) points out, if external
cues associated with the narrative, such as the book jacket, identify the text as
fictional, readers are prompted to create a unique story world for this fictional
narrative that is based on, but not necessarily identical to, the actual world. In
opening up possibilities to accept premises different from the real world, informa-
tion on fictionality in the mental model relieves us of too hastily dismissing the
fictional world as faulty.5
Perceived realism
In the next two sections, we address the remaining two reasons viewers may perceive
a story as unrealistic: The story world may be unlike the actual world or the story may
External realism
Underlying most perceived realism research is an assumption that either content
perceived as more realistic has greater influence or, in one case (Potter, 1986),
content must be perceived as somewhat realistic to have influence. Although many
conceptual dimensions of external realism have been offered, such as magic window,
plausibility, probability, and social utility (for reviews, see Busselle & Greenberg,
2000; Potter, 1988), the commonality is for respondents to judge ‘‘the degree of
similarity between mediated characters and situations and real-life characters and
situations’’ (Shapiro & Chock, 2003, p. 170). From a mental models perspective,
realism judgments can be thought of as a judgment of the consistency between the
mental models representing a narrative that are constructed as part of a narrative
experience (i.e., story world, character models, and situation models) and a viewer’s
appropriate, counterpart real life and media experiences as reflected in schemas and
stereotypes.
In the case of filmic narratives, most research has focused on memory-based
realism judgments (Busselle & Greenberg, 2000; Wilson & Busselle, 2004). Some-
times participants are shown a narrative and then asked to assess aspects of its
realism (e.g., Bahk, 2001; Bilandzic & Busselle, 2006; Taylor, 2005). More often,
respondents complete questionnaires containing items that measure perceptions
of the realism of a genre or genres, or of television in general (e.g., Busselle, 2001;
Perse, 1986; Pinkelton, Austin, & Fujioka, 2001; Potter, 1986). Little research has
focused on the online judgments viewers may make while viewing. Shapiro and
Chock (2003; Experiment 3) demonstrated that, when prompted to do so, parti-
cipants could monitor realism as they view and that across program segments per-
ceived realism is highly correlated with perceived typicality (also see Bradley &
Shapiro, 2005; Shapiro & Fox, 2002). To investigate unprompted, online realism
judgments, Busselle and his colleagues (Quintero-Johnson & Busselle, 2004; Wilson
& Busselle, 2004; Zhang et al., 2007) used a thought-listing procedure and found
negative relationships between memories of critical thoughts about a program while
viewing and postviewing realism judgments.
It is generally assumed that respondents report high realism when they observe
similarity between the fictional and the real worlds. This may be the case with
reflective, postexposure realism judgments but there is little reason to expect online
recognition of positive realism. Simply put, if one is viewing realistic content, there is
no reason to judge its realism. This argument is supported from several perspectives.
From a limited capacity standpoint (Lang, 2000), assessing realism should interfere
with processing other incoming information related directly to the narrative itself
(Bradley & Shapiro, 2005; Busselle, Ryabovolova, & Wilson, 2004). Moreover, crit-
ical evaluation should undermine enjoyment or escapist goals (Prentice & Gerrig,
1999). Also, the redundancy of judging the truth of something initially accepted as
true is inconsistent with a Spinozan model of veracity assessment (Gilbert, 1991). As
both cognitive psychologists (Gilbert, 1991; Gilbert et al., 1993) and communication
scholars (Bradley & Shapiro, 2005) have argued, and as we have argued above
regarding fictionality, individuals should accept information as true, ‘‘unless delib-
erative processing subsequently finds the proposition to be false’’ (Bradley & Shapiro,
2005, p. 312). Thus, we may conclude that if fictional content meets some threshold
of realism, judgments about realism are unnecessary and unlikely (except when
prompted by a researcher or a conversation about realism).
Conversely, observed dissimilarity or unrealness may be impossible to overlook.
The occurrence in a narrative of a behavior or event that is noticeably inconsistent with
a viewer’s relevant, preexisting schemas or stereotypes should prompt realism judg-
ments, which should be negative or critical, at least initially. This is not because the
viewer is monitoring realism but because such inconsistencies should interfere with the
smooth construction of mental models and thus motivate an evaluation of realism.
These prompted online judgments should be more specific than reflective, memory-
based realism judgments used in traditional perceived realism research. Rather than
requiring an evaluation of the realism of a program or category of content elements
(e.g., cops or crimes), online judgments focus on the specific moment and content that
prompted the judgment. This is the difference between an overall assessment, such as
‘‘police officers on TV behaving like real police officers,’’ and a judgment about
a specific moment in a specific narrative, such as ‘‘Lenny (of Law & Order) can’t really
break down that apartment door without a search warrant.’’
Reflective realism measures have been linked to experiential engagement. Focus
group participants told Hall (2003) that television programs were realistic if they
were emotionally engaging. Green (2004) found that the extent to which readers
judged a short story to be realistic was related to their feeling of being transported
into that story. We suggest that the relationship between realism and narrative engage-
ment may be related to negative online realism judgments, where observations of
inconsistency interfere with engagement, or, in the positive case, the absence of online
assessments is part of an engaging narrative experience. Given that consistency is the
default and realism is assumed, consistency should lead to no realism evaluation at all.
For example, a viewer is unlikely to observe that the police officer behaves as one would
expect a police officer to behave, and is therefore realistic. Inconsistency, on the other
hand, should present itself as abnormal or unexpected and result in the perception that
the narrative was in some way flawed or unrealistic. A viewer likely would take notice if
a police officer behaves unexpectedly by, for example, breaking down in tears over an
unfamiliar victim. Certainly, such behavior could be explained, but if not, the authen-
ticity of the portrayal of the character would be questioned.
Schemas and stereotypes are important for the assessment of realism or, more
accurately, a lack of realism, about people and events. Genre schemas are central to
story world models and their accompanying logic. Knowledge about genres helps the
viewer find the appropriate story world logic. Segal (1995a) points out that genre
knowledge makes comprehension of stories easier and that ‘‘the genre’s constraints
become its verisimilitude’’ (p. 72)—such that, as Todorov (1977) has described,
genre patterns become a benchmark for judging the verisimilitude of a narrative
even if it is the ‘‘antiverisimilitude’’ of the murder mystery making the most unsus-
pected person turn out to be the murderer. Todorov (1977) lays out that there is
a multiplicity of verisimilitudes, depending on the consistency of the narrative at
hand with genre patterns: ‘‘Comedy has its own verisimilitude, different from trag-
edy; there are as many verisimilitudes as there are genres’’ (p. 83).
Whether a lack of external realism leads to a disruption of narrative processing
should depend in part on how much the story explains deviations from the real
world. Deviations that are not explained, such as the use of cell phones in the 1960s,
may prompt critical thinking during reception, which should disrupt the construc-
tion of mental models. When the flow of processing is disturbed, viewers are likely to
disengage from the film and, at least momentarily, lose the sense of transportation.
Similarly, we assume that identification will be hindered because critical thinking
should move the viewer away from the narrative’s deictic center. Ultimately, this also
should interfere with enjoyment (Green, Brock, & Kaufman, 2004; Zhang et al.,
2007). However, an inconsistency between, for example, an event and the logic of
the story world may be resolved by the narrative if the story makes the deviation
plausible. For example, the police officer could use a cell phone despite the setting if
it is revealed that the officer is a member of a secret, hi-tech government agency that
is decades ahead of the times technologically and whose members carry cell phone-
like devices. In this case the existence of such an agency and the officer’s identity as
a member are revealed to audience members and can be incorporated as mental
models of the ongoing narrative are constructed.
Of course, the narrative must achieve or maintain coherence among different
schemas and mental models, such as the story world and the genre. For example, the
introduction of a secret government agency may be consistent with the story world
surrounding our old woman and police officer but inconsistent with a classic
mystery genre and its logic. There is no place in the story worlds of Miss Marple or
Sherlock Holmes for hi-tech gadgetry. Indeed, simplicity may be part of a genre’s
charm. On the other hand, the absence of gadgetry would be troublingly inconsistent
in the story world of James Bond.
Narrative realism
We have pointed out that consumers of fiction do not expect strict verisimilitude.
The extent to which real-world rules and premises are relevant to the processing of
a narrative depends partly on genre. Yet even the most authentic genres, such as
crime dramas, are unrealistic in ways that viewers find acceptable. Shapiro and
colleagues have referred to relative realism in pointing out that audiences are able
to judge even unlikely events that are not part of their own experiences as more or
less realistic by evaluating ‘‘how realistic an event is if that sort of event were to
happen’’ (Shapiro, Pena-Herborn, & Hancock, 2006, p. 278)—or, in other words, by
employing some sort of commonsense plausibility criterion. Content can vary from
realistic to unrealistic within the confines of a clearly unrealistic genre or story world.
For example, crime-drama viewers do not notice that cops are impossibly good
marksmen despite never practicing or that crimes are solved with impossible speed
and efficiency. Instead of being concerned with verisimilitude, audience members are
concerned with coherence and logic within a particular fictional context (Graesser
et al., 2002; Shapiro & Fox, 2002). We refer to this aspect of realness as ‘‘narrative
realism.’’
The constructionist approach to narrative processing assumes that two interre-
lated activities are central to processing: coherence and explanation (Graesser et al.,
2002). The first focuses on constructing a situation model in which actions, events,
and states make sense together. The second focuses on explaining ‘‘why the explicit
actions, events and states occur’’ (Graesser et al., 2002, p. 247). This includes, for
example, how actions fit with the traits and motives of characters (Rapp et al., 2001).
In fact, it may be less accurate to say that audience members are concerned with
coherence and explanation and more accurate to say that audience members begin to
question or counterargue if a narrative becomes incoherent or unexplainable. Some
evidence of this comes from experiments in which consistency within stories is
manipulated. For example, individuals read more slowly and were less likely to agree
that an event would occur when the event was described as having taken more time
than the story suggested had transpired (Rapp & Gerrig, 2002; Experiment 1).
Similarly, reading times were greater when an object’s properties changed from early
in a story to later (e.g., a sweater described first as green and then as blue) and its
relation to a character changed (e.g., first too large and then too small; Kaup & Foss,
2005). Also, reading times were found to increase when characters’ traits and behav-
iors were inconsistent (e.g., a vegetarian eating a cheeseburger; Albrecht & O’Brien,
1993). In each case, reading slowed—apparently because inconsistencies interfered
with comprehension. Unlike a reader, a viewer of television or film cannot slow the
The process starts with viewers or readers constructing three types of mental
models in order to represent a narrative (see Figure 1). The situation model tracks
the events and actions of the characters, as well as spatial and chronological cues.
Character models contain the identities, traits, and goals of individual characters.
The story world model is a more static structure, defining the spatial and temporal
setting, as well as the story world logic that represents the rules of the specific
fictional world. Deviations from the actual world must be introduced by the narra-
tive and made to seem plausible. For each of the models, consumers of stories use
their general world knowledge as a point of origin or departure from the real world
and to fill in gaps that are not made explicit by the story. Genre schemas in particular
are useful because they provide information about typical patterns of story world
logic, typical plots, and characters.
In order to understand a narrative, and as part of comprehension, individuals
must shift the center of their experience from the actual world into the fictional
world and position themselves within the mental models of the story. This deictic
shift enables them to experience the story from the inside and to assume the point of
view implied by the story. Transportation is redefined as a fluent and smooth
construction of mental models or experiencing a state of flow in this activity. Viewers
or readers may for short periods or longer durations lose their awareness of the
actual world, which may result in phenomena such as forgetting one’s self or losing
the sense of time. Identification in the form of taking on the perspective of a character
is the third component of narrative experience.
Acknowledgment
The preparation of this article was supported by a grant to the second author from
the Deutsche Forschungsgemeinschaft (German Science Foundation).
Notes
1 This conundrum is often expressed as a fictional paradox consisting of three plausible
assumptions that together are implausible: (a) we feel emotions toward fictional char-
acters and events, (b) we know that fiction is not real, and (c) we only respond emo-
tionally to things we know to be real. For a full discussion of the fictional paradox,
see Worth (2004) and Yanal (1999).
2 For a recent review of the concept, see Böcking and Wirth (2005).
3 A variation of such a ‘‘simulationist’’ view is expressed by Currie (1997) and Oatley
(1999).
4 Iser (1993) uses the term tacit knowledge for the distinction between reality and fiction.
However, Iser refers to expert knowledge in the literary community in the sense that
the distinction between fiction and reality is widely used and taken for granted. His
goal is to question this tacit knowledge and analyze its usefulness and, however, not
apply the notion of tacit knowledge to the reader and the influence on story
processing.
5 In fact, this phenomenon that we adjust rules for a possible world is conceivable for real-
world stories, too, when we have to contextualize a story in another historic and cultural
context. For example, to kill a human who is not an enemy is illogical by today’s
standards in Western societies, but is explainable within a religion that dictates human
sacrifice to the gods.
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Rick Busselle
Helena Bilandzic
Résumé
Cet article propose un cadre théorique visant à expliquer les circonstances dans lesquelles
les perceptions d’« irréalité » affectent l’implication dans les narratifs et les jugements
des narratifs forme la base d’un modèle qui intègre la compréhension narrative et les
une réalité externe) et le réalisme narratif (cohérence d’une histoire). Nous réunissons ici
des preuves à l’effet que la fictionnalité n’affecte pas le traitement narratif. D’autre part,
les violations des réalismes externe et narratif sont perçues comme des incohérences dans
les structures mentales des spectateurs, puisque ceux-ci construisent des modèles
peuvent avoir pour résultats des évaluations négatives du réalisme d’un narratif sur le
Rick Busselle
Helena Bilandzic
Rick Busselle
Resumen
Este artículo ofrece un marco teórico para explicar las circumstancias bajo las cuales las
Por otro lado, las violaciones al realismo externo y narrativo son concebidas como
inconsistencias entre las estructuras mentales de la audiencia dado que ellos construyen
persuasivo de la narrativa.
故事体验中的虚构和真实性感知:故事理解及投入模式
Rick Busselle
华盛顿州立大学
Helena Bilandzic
德国 Universität Erfurt
摘要
本文提供了一个理论框架来解释在何种条件下“不真实”的感知如何影响对故事的投入以
及随后对所感知之真实性的判断。以解释叙事处理的心里模式为基础,本文发展了一个融
故事理解和现象性体验(比如超越和认同)为一体的模式。三种“不真实”的情况得以讨
论,它们包括虚构、外在真实(和外在现实吻合)、和叙述真实(故事内部的一致性)。
我们所收集的证据表明:虚构对故事处理过程没有影响。另一方面,当受众构建有关意义
的心里模式以理解故事时,对外在真实和叙述真实的违背在受众的心里结构中被视为不一
致。这些不一致可能引发对叙述真实性的负面的即时评估、中断对叙事的投入、造成对反
刍性真实判断的负面影响、以及减弱故事的说服力量。
경험적 이야기의 허구성과 인지된 사실주의:
Rick Busselle
Helena Bilandzic
요약
사실성의 판단에 있어 영향을 미치는 환경을 설명하기 위한 이론적 토대를 제공하고 있다.