At first glance, ecological narratology may seem to be a subfield of narratology, yet its scope is far broader than narratology in the conventional sense. The reason lies partly in the term “ecology,” which derives from the ancient Greek oikos, meaning “house,” “dwelling place,” or “settlement,” and has since expanded to denote the human habitat conceived from a more cosmological perspective. Understood this way, ecological narratology is a narrative theory centered on inhabited environments and concerned with the interconnections between human beings and all living and non-living entities. Just as “ecology” has acquired new layers of meaning, “narratology” itself is undergoing a continuing expansion of its conceptual boundaries. 

Even a brief look at current scholarship on “ecology” and “narratology” suggests that the recent emergence of ecological narratology reflects the convergence of two major intellectual currents: the growing environmental sensitivity of our age and the continuing expansion of narratological inquiry. Although the term “ecological narratology” was first proposed by Western scholars, the contribution of the Chinese narrative tradition should not be overlooked.

As early as the Wei, Jin, and Northern and Southern Dynasties (220–589), Chinese literati had already begun to develop an awareness of wugan (an affective responsiveness to things). More than a thousand years before French poet Charles Baudelaire (1821–67) composed “Correspondances,” a poem evoking the mutual resonance of all things in nature, Tang poet Wei Yingwu (c. 731–c. 797) had written the line “All things naturally give rise to their own sounds, ” in which “sound” implies perceptual response.

This makes it necessary to examine the origins and essence of ecological narratology through a comparative cultural lens. Many scholars, when discussing ecological issues, often cite a well-known remark by American marine biologist and writer Rachel Carson: “We still haven’t become mature enough to think of ourselves as only a tiny part of a vast and incredible universe.” Yet when this statement is read alongside Daoist sage Zhuangzi’s idea that “Heaven and Earth and I were produced together, and all things and I are one,” it becomes evident that Chinese thinkers had long recognized the “indivisible unity” of human beings and the myriad entities of the world.

From this perspective, contemporary humans are not simply “immature” but have regressed from an earlier “maturity” into “immaturity,” thus placing the “small self” in opposition to the “greater self.” In thinking about human–nature relations, Eastern Jin poet Tao Yuanming (c. 365–c. 427) may be among the earliest figures to treat the inhabited environment as an object of affective projection. His reclusive pastoral world was, in essence, a return to the earth: Because human beings are products of nature, returning to nature is like a child returning to the mother’s embrace.

Extending the intellectual trajectories opened by Zhuangzi, Tao Yuanming, and Wei Yingwu, one may arrive at a further understanding: Human beings not only dwell on the earth but form a unity with it, representing a mode through which the dwelling place—and even the universe as a whole—comes to perceive itself. This view may strike some as radical, but in my view it captures the true essence of ecological narratology. Recognizing this is key to illuminating why humanity—as an intelligent species—came into being, and what the ultimate significance of human storytelling may be. In short, everything we narrate ultimately serves to make the story of humanity known to the universe.

This is the macro-level background against which ecological narratology should be understood. It is in this very sense that its scope of inquiry can be considered far broader than narratology as conventionally conceived. Narratology is, at its core, a “study of the human.” Eastern Han Dynasty (25–220) thinker Wang Chong long ago observed that “A person is a thing, and other entities are also things.” Therefore, the “study of the human” should ultimately be integrated into a more inclusive knowledge system—a “study of things.”

Some now suggest that human civilization may be a kind of “bootloader” designed to usher in a silicon-based era through carbon-based life. This idea poses a serious challenge to existing definitions of both life and ecology. Whether or not one agrees with it, ecological narratology is clearly facing an unprecedented transformation. While earlier research focused largely on overcoming anthropocentrism, future research will tell stories on a broader cosmic scale, exploring not the opposition between humans and their living environment, but their integration and unity. Its aim will be to ask how finite life can create infinite meaning—an academic journey that promises richer and more original insights.

Fu Xiuyan is a professor from the Institute of Foreign Literature and Culture at Guangdong University of Foreign Studies.