Insights

11.8.26

3 min read

How Stories Shape Our Experience of Place

Laura Carroll

Managing Director

laura-carroll

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As an avid reader, I often like to look for novels connected to the places I’m visiting. There’s something compelling about arriving somewhere with a story already in your mind – not a guidebook or itinerary, but a narrative that offers a different way into a place.

On a recent trip to Cyprus, I read The Island of Missing Trees by Elif Shafak. In Vietnam, I travelled with The Women by Kristin Hannah. Both books shaped my experience of those places in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

Reading the descriptions of the landscape – the nature, the smells, the sounds – in The Island of Missing Trees made me feel connected not only to Cyprus as it exists today, but to its layered history and cultural memory. The novel gave emotional texture to the streets, coastlines, and communities I encountered.

In contrast, the far more desperate nature of The Women gave me a perspective on Vietnam that deeply shaped how I experienced the tiny communities I encountered while travelling there. The book added emotional weight to ordinary moments and places, reminding me that landscapes are never separate from the histories they carry.

It made me think about how stories shape our perception of place more broadly.

We never arrive somewhere empty-handed. Long before we physically experience a place, we often encounter it through stories – novels, films, music, family histories, news coverage, or collective cultural narratives. These stories influence what we notice, what we expect, and ultimately how we feel when we arrive.

A city can feel romantic, tense, nostalgic, resilient, or unfamiliar before we’ve even walked its streets. Narrative creates an emotional framework through which we interpret place.

This is one reason why some destinations feel instantly meaningful, while others can feel difficult to connect with. It’s not only about physical design or visual beauty; it’s about whether a place carries stories people can emotionally engage with.

In many ways, this sits at the heart of placemaking.

Great places are not defined solely by infrastructure, architecture, or functionality. They succeed because they create emotional connections. They hold memory, identity, symbolism, and shared meaning. People return to certain streets, parks, neighbourhoods, or public spaces not simply because they are practical, but because they feel something there.

Stories play a crucial role in that process. They help transform spaces into places.

Whether through local history, community voices, cultural programming, public art, or shared rituals, the narratives attached to a place shape how people experience and value it. The most memorable places often have a strong sense of narrative identity – something that allows people to feel part of a larger story.

Perhaps that’s why reading while travelling feels so powerful. Stories slow us down. They encourage us to look more carefully, to notice details, and to understand places as lived environments rather than simply destinations.

They remind us that places are not static backdrops. They are emotional landscapes, shaped by memory, experience, conflict, belonging, and imagination.

And sometimes, the right story can help us inhabit a place more deeply than any map ever could.