What is Unnarratable?

When discussing the concept of narrative, addressing the concept of what is “unnarratable” serves as a useful tool in setting the parameters for narratives. According to Gerald Prince in, The Disnarrated, the unnaratable is something that “cannot be narrated or is not worth narrating” [1]. To expand upon this definition, Prince explains why something is unnaratable in three broad subjects. I find these subsets to have varying degrees of viability. In order to further engage in the conversation of what is unnarratable I will discuss these three aspects of the unnarratable.
The first explanation of why a story may be unarratable provided by Prince is “because it transgresses a law (social, authorial, generic, formal)” [2]. I agree with this aspect of Prince’s summation to a certain degree. I’m particularly intrigued where Prince mentions social law as a means to make something unnarratable. This reflects on social taboos as a hurdle in the creation of a narrative. While certain taboos may drive away audiences, I dispute that taboos actually have a niche in narratives. We as humans have a natural curiosity when we are told or led to believe something is not okay. To a certain extent, addressing a taboo could make a story more narratable by appealing to human curiosity towards an “oddity”. For example, the National Geographic Channel has a show called Taboo which has examined everything from “bloodsports” to addictions [3]. There is a certain market for this type of narrative, just not in large doses, which is why I propose Prince’s approach in this regard may be too restrictive.
The second approach to why a story may be unnarratable provided by Prince is that “it defies the powers of a particular narrator” [4]. This particular approach stood out to me in that it discusses the concept of the appeal to reality. It is very common to find stories in the media of people taking their abilities to the threshold to achieve something; however a story from the narrator about themself that seems far-fetched rarely has such appeal outside of novels. This is what separates a media narrative and the concept of narrative in fiction. This is another way in which I find Prince may need to be more careful with these guidelines of why something may be unnarratable, however this approach is mostly agreeable.
The final aspect of Prince’s explanation of the unnarratable is that the story “falls below the so-called threshold of narratability (it is not sufficiently unusual or problematic)” [5]. This to me has the most bearing amongst his criteria. While I don’t think a narrative needs to necessarily be a complete oddity or significant problem, a story does need to stand out enough to make it worth being narrated. For example, the story of how I brush my teeth in the morning is not worth being narrated. However if the story involved a deviation from the norm, such as me dropping my toothbrush in the toilet, it becomes more narratable. A narrative does not require an extreme circumstance, however if a narrative lacks individuality it loses its appeal and subsequently its narratability.
Overall Prince’s approach to the unnarratable is suitable. Authority can prevent certain stories from getting out as a means of control, making that story unnarratable given the circumstance. Far-fetched tales have more appeal in novels rather than the story of an individual’s real life. Narratives do need to have appeal in the sense that it addresses something outside of what is considered typical. However, Prince needs to be a bit more careful in his definitions. Particularly in deviating types of narratives and accepting the appeal of the taboo.

[1] Prince, Gerald. “The Disnarrated.” Style. 22.1. (1988): 1-8. Print. Page 1.
[2] Prince, Gerald. “The Disnarrated.” Style. 22.1. (1988): 1-8. Print. Page 1.
[3] “Taboo” National Geographic Channel. http://channel.nationalgeographic.com/series/taboo/5330/Overview
[4] Prince, Gerald. “The Disnarrated.” Style. 22.1. (1988): 1-8. Print. Page 1.
[5] Prince, Gerald. “The Disnarrated.” Style. 22.1. (1988): 1-8. Print. Page 1.