Abstract
We are living today in the great age of narrative. I do not mean that we are living in the age of great narrative; it is far from certain that W. G. Sebald’s Austerlitz is aesthetically superior to Dante’s Inferno or that Milan Kundera’s Ignorance, stunning as it is, makes for a better nostos than the Odyssey. I mean simply that we Westerners are more obsessed with stories— good, bad, and indifferent—than ever before. We no longer have the slightest time for lyric poetry but instead consume infinite quantities of novels and films and television shows,2 and the programs we like most are
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