3 Ways Lousy Stories Create Thin Souls

What's the difference between practical stories and classic fairy tales?

Photo by Bradley Pritchard Jones on Unsplash

In the 20th century, people began telling radically different kinds of stories from those around for hundreds of years. Practical, relevant, hyperrealistic stories replaced the myths, legends, and fairy tales that once dominated. The timeless Arthurian cycle gave way to psychological problem stories—murky examinations of realistic daily human dilemmas. 

Simultaneously, fairy tales were pushed aside to the nursery. Once regarded as universal, timeless, and ageless, they were now deemed childish and inferior, barely worth the attention of sophisticated minds. 

G K Chesterton summed it up this way: “Modern educators have not been well disposed toward traditional fairytales, and they’re like… They favor practical and realistic stories. Stories about the lives children live today. Stories that easily lend themselves to distillation into useful themes, principles, and values. What some educators can’t find, they create… These stories are of the disposable kind, they can be discarded… once the important stuff in them has been removed. Values clarification, not character, is regarded as the goal.”

On the surface, this shift to practical, realistic stories seems appealing. Stories that meet children where they are, dealing with the daily issues they face —problems on the playground, in the cafeteria, and with friends. Why not give children stories they can instantly resonate with?

But centuries of Christians, scholars, and storytellers felt something deeper at work in the stories of old. Why did Lewis, Tolkien, Chesterton, and others feel so strongly that fairy tales, myths, and legends should be reclaimed? Why did C.S. Lewis believe, as he titled one of his essays, that “Sometimes Fairy Stories May Say Best What's to be Said.”

What did they think modernity was missing?

While I plan to discuss the importance of fairy tales and mythical stories more in future posts, for now, let’s take a closer look at the kinds of practical stories we tell today. Here are three characterizations of modern stories that I think are worth considering.

1. Realism and Nihilism

Nihilism is the belief that life has no meaning—nothing matters, and we’re just pond scum that lives, dies, and returns to the void. All the in-between stuff is nothing more than a fleeting grasp at whatever’s on offer, a game of Whac-A-Mole before time runs out. 

This worldview has crept into our stories. If ultimate reality is meaningless, then stories become preoccupied with this world and its problems. They turn inward, dealing only with the here and now.

By contrast, in fairy tales, almost every object, character, and event has a double meaning, pointing to something beyond the material world. They speak a symbolic language, teaching us to see the transcendent in everyday life.

Practical stories, what C. S. Lewis dubbed “school stories,” are stunted from the outset. They become narrow, focused only on fixing what’s right in front of us. As a result, modern stories reflect our obsession with pragmatism and utilitarianism.

2. Obsession with the Inner Life

This leads to the second point: modern stories focus intensely on the self.

I’m not saying stories should never focus on down-to-earth, everyday reality. In fact, most good stories do just that. Even fairy tales are grounded in the ordinary. The ordinary life of hobbits frames The Lord of the Rings, and Harry Potter—a modern fairy tale—features plenty of relatable problems. Harry was bullied in the cafeteria, but we would have missed out on something more significant and profound if that was the whole story.

The point is that there is nothing wrong with stories that deal with the practical side of life. But a good story shouldn’t leave us there. It should lift our eyes beyond the immediate to the spiritual reality that is always present, whether we see it or not.

Modern stories, however, are often trapped in a loop of self-reflection. For example, the titles in this series all start with “I… I am brave, I am honest, I am talented… etc.”

The results are clear. Recent generations' self-obsession has produced the most anxious and depressed generation yet. A preoccupation with self and with only highly relevant problems robs life of meaning, reducing it to a glorified vending machine. Even morality tales can teach kids to view life as transactional.

They turn inward, focusing on personal problems and moral dilemmas, reducing life to a series of transactions—problems to be solved, feelings to be examined. As Chesterton pointed out, these stories often become little more than “values clarification” exercises—lacking the depth needed to build character or soul.

3. The Transcendent and the Sacred

Finally, as I’ve touched on, good stories point to the transcendent. They lift us out of ourselves and point us toward a higher mission and a greater meaning. For example, a tree in a story holds layers of symbolism and meaning, representing far more than leaves, roots, and bark.

My husband, who is pursuing a degree in classical Christian leadership, recently visited Italy. He was struck by how the architecture in the ancient cities constantly pointed to something sacred. Churches were filled with stained glass windows that weren’t just beautiful—they were designed to remind people that every image, every detail, had a deeper, spiritual significance.

Fairy tales, like stained glass windows, point to something beyond the material world. The Chronicles of Narnia or The Lord of the Rings certainly deal with individuals and their personal struggles. But those struggles are part of a greater journey of the soul—one that points us to sacrifice, redemption, and the pattern of life we find in the Bible.

Fairy tales help us see the world with new eyes. They teach us to read more than just the material facts of life; they help us read the story behind the story. They make children feel they are a part of something much bigger than themselves.

Without this, we may look at the story of the Garden of Eden and think God was simply being cranky about a weird tree. We lose the ability to see the deeper symbolic meaning behind the images, both in Scripture and in our own lives.

So, let’s reclaim the stories that feed our souls—those that are full of rich symbolism, deep truths, and transcendent meaning. Let’s feed our children—and ourselves—on the hearty bread and full-bodied wine of good stories, full of life, light, and meaning.