Stories as Food: How Narratives Nourish Us

“You are what you eat,” but what about what you read, watch, or scroll through? Stories are sustenance. They entertain us, feed our curiosity, and challenge our assumptions, shaping the way we see the world. Some cater to our tastes while others expand them, and many do both… when we take our time to savor the flavor. In a cultural moment of constant content, where storytelling’s traditional gatekeepers are increasingly influenced by algorithms and paid promotion, now is the perfect time to get curious about fueling ourselves in a way that’s energizing and livening.

A Modern Feast

It’s the 21st Century. We have access to more stories than ever. Representation and publishing are reaching for new and broader horizons—and rightfully so, we think—that’s what F(r)iction is all about. But endless access begs new questions for modern readers. Is it okay to love The Lord of the Rings while critiquing its outdated tropes? Can we enjoy Alien’s gruesome thrills while dissecting its capitalist subtext? Are you a fanfiction-turned-erotic-fantasy convert, and have you ever been ashamed of it? (Psst–you shouldn’t be!) With our devices’ instant offering of stories both new and familiar, exploring our media palates enables us to discover the flavors in every piece. 

Fantasy Flavor 

Like many a word nerd, I’ve a lifelong love of fantasy. It is uplifting and transporting, taking us on sweeping adventures through vividly-imagined worlds. It’s also notorious for distilling moral complexity into binary extremes: noble kings versus monstrous baddies, pure heroes against irredeemable villains. This is the genre’s meat and PO-TA-TOES—simple and gratifying. But the real world is juicier, and the best fantasies know when to bake in that extra juice.

Tolkien’s moral contrasts in The Lord of the Rings are unmistakable, but its fans will tell you they’re not the whole meal. The epic’s power emerges in the fragile bonds between unlikely allies—alliances between elves and dwarves, the loyalty of Sam to Frodo, Middle Earth’s shared fight for a world worth saving. The legendary battles and enchanting magic of Tolkien’s world are revelatory, but its relationships—complex, messy, and deeply human—are the sustenance that keeps us coming back for seconds (and thirds, and fourths… I see you!).

Horror’s Aftertaste 

Horror is another genre ripe for the picking. These stories go all in to grip us with primal thrills—the shock of violence, filth, and the visceral dread of the monstrous Other. But there’s more meat to be had for the hungry. Horror holds up a mirror to mankind’s shadowy impulses and taboo topics, inviting us to reflect on what really frightens us: the monster, the conditions that created it, or ourselves? (Hint: yes.)

My favourite example is the films Alien and Aliens. They’re a masterclass in terror—xenomorphs bursting from chests, the iconic Ellen Ripley’s desperate flight through the Nostromo’s corridors. But the xenomorphs are weaponized by the Weyland-Yutani corporation, a human creation, to further their medical and military advancements. That origin story’s not all that, well… alien. Ripley and the xenomorph queen are eerily mirrored by their need to adapt to and survive the invasion of the same colonizing force. The facehuggers get your attention, but that message sticks to your ribs.

‘Mindful’ Self-Indulgence

Sometimes a story’s purpose is to thrill and delight, and at first glance, it kinda seems like that’s it. Is it, though? Sarah J. Maas’ A Court of Thorns and Roses series combines swoon-worthy tension with glittering worlds, for instance, offering the best of fantasy’s enchantment and romance’s emotional payoff. Oft criticized as indulgent, Maas’ emphasis on female desire and agency has galvanized a generation of readers while sparking censorship debates for her erotic content. Fan or no, it’s hard not to see the spice there.

Similar can be said for the staple horror franchise Friday the 13th. Some of us crave a good ol’ fashioned slasher, and Jason has faithfully delivered since 1980. The mask is emblematic, the kills are creative, and the most pressing question on our mind is who makes it out alive (if anyone). But Friday the 13th did something unprecedented for the genre–it distilled slasher horror to a single fundamental: no victim backstory, only killer mythos. This reduction, condemned as gratuitous, weaponizes the audience’s indifference, mirroring Jason’s psyche and providing viewers a brand-new experience in confronting fear. Jason is proof that even stories stuffed with tried-and-true stereotypes can yield surprising substance when we really sit down to eat.

At F(r)iction, we believe stories should nourish as deeply as they entertain. That’s why we publish stories with substance: the kind that tantalize your tastes while sustaining empathy, challenging assumptions, and leaving readers fortified for the world beyond the page. 

The Power of Stories is a limited blog series that dives into the ways stories weave themselves into the fabric of our lives. It’s an invitation to reflect on how narratives—whether passed down through generations or splashed across the big screen—shape who we are, how we connect, and the worlds we imagine. Each post peels back a new layer of storytelling, and next in the series delves into a F(r)iction favourite, the therapeutic power of stories.

Recommended Reading from F(r)iction

• ‘Colossal’ by Tara Laskowski, F(r)iction #16: The Monsters Issue
• ‘Final Girl’ by Lydia Gwyn, F(r)iction #21: The Unseen Issue
• ‘From Maiden to Evil Queen in Seven Easy Affirmations’ by Katrina Smith, F(r)iction #19: The Arcana Issue
• ‘To Fall and Fall and Fall’ by Hajrije Kolimja, F(r)iction #23: The Gods Issue