what is life history research

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FOUNDATION ENTRY Qualitative Interviewing of Older Persons
FOUNDATION ENTRY Saturation in Qualitative Research
FOUNDATION ENTRY Peer Interviewers
FOUNDATION ENTRY Oral History
FOUNDATION ENTRY Thomas, Dorothy Swaine
FOUNDATION ENTRY Documents of Life
FOUNDATION ENTRY Powdermaker, Hortense
Interviewing Elites
Qualitative Analysis of Repertory Grids: Interpretive Clustering
Silence in Qualitative Interviewing
Qualitative Interviewing of Elites
Interviewing Legal Elites
FOUNDATION ENTRY Problem-Centred Interview
FOUNDATION ENTRY Fine, Gary Alan
FOUNDATION ENTRY Group Interviews
FOUNDATION ENTRY Life History Methods
FOUNDATION ENTRY Focus Groups
FOUNDATION ENTRY Memory Research
FOUNDATION ENTRY Storytelling as Qualitative Research
FOUNDATION ENTRY Active Interview

Discover method in the Methods Map

Life history methods.

By: William G. Tierney & Michael Lanford | Edited by: Paul Atkinson, Sara Delamont, Alexandru Cernat, Joseph W. Sakshaug & Richard A.Williams
Publisher: SAGE Publications Ltd
Publication year: 2019
Online pub date: September 17, 2019
Discipline: Anthropology , Business and Management , Communication and Media Studies , Computer Science , Counseling and Psychotherapy , Criminology and Criminal Justice , Economics , Education , Engineering , Geography , Health , History , Marketing , Mathematics , Medicine , Nursing , Political Science and International Relations , Psychology , Social Policy and Public Policy , Science , Social Work , Sociology , Technology
Methods: Life history research
Length: 10k+ Words
DOI: https:// doi. org/10.4135/9781526421036750846
Online ISBN: 9781529745177 More information Less information
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This entry on life history research is separated into four distinct, yet interrelated, sections. First, it depicts the evolution of life history research by highlighting several impactful works of the past 100 years. Second, it defines life history by examining published articulations of the method. Third, it depicts the process of conducting a life history in detail by addressing methodological concerns, emphasizing that life history is a dynamic and recursive process between researcher and participant. Fourth, it focuses on the crucial subject of ethical issues and relationships. Through this discussion, the entry endeavors to accomplish four goals: (1) shed light on current and future research trends in life history research, (2) provide clarity about life history as a research method, (3) help those interested in life history research understand its methodological precepts, and (4) highlight the potential for innovative life history projects that can stimulate further dialogue about the intersection of the individual and society.

Introduction

An established method of qualitative research, life history is a dynamic and recursive process between researcher and participant that endeavors to provide a “full-scale autobiographical account” by “[allowing] interviewees to relate their entire life, from childhood to the present” (Ritchie, 2003, p. 40). The researcher and the participant construct a narrative in a collaborative fashion, utilizing multiple data sources such as one-on-one interviews and observations. A variety of artifacts, whether they are in hard copy (e.g., a diary) or digitized (e.g., an e-mail message), may also play a role in data collection and analysis.

In its finished state, a life history document should be a contextually bound representation of the life of the participant, along with his or her relationship with the researcher (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). Although a life history need not approach its topic with an explicit theoretical framework, researchers have used life history to formulate theory. Life history researchers also have eloquently engaged with existing theory, interrogating the ways individuals interact with cultural norms, navigate institutions, make sense of given phenomena, and live their lives. Frequently, the questions and findings highlighted by a life history have illuminated broader cultural and societal concerns that might have otherwise escaped scholarly attention.

This entry on life history is separated into four distinct, yet interrelated, sections. The first section depicts the evolution of life history research by highlighting several of the most impactful works since the early 1900s. The review starts with the humanistic Chicago School of sociological research at the beginning of the 20th century and concludes with more recent contributions to the literature from a broad array of disciplines and topics. By considering various avenues for conducting life history research and presenting examples in different contexts, this entry demonstrates the flexibility as well as the utility of the method.

The second section defines life history by examining several published articulations of the method. In addition, this section introduces three commonly utilized approaches to conducting life history research: the portal approach, the process approach, and the cultural biography. The goals of each approach are introduced, along with their comparative strengths and weaknesses. The purpose of this section is to outline life history’s assumptions, provide clarity about the different approaches to a life history, and explore life history’s utility for scholarly inquiry.

The third section depicts the process of conducting a life history in detail by addressing methodological concerns. This section begins with a discussion of life history’s place in social science research. Afterward, it discusses how researchers might select a suitable topic for a life history project. Data sources, data analysis, and data presentation are then each discussed in turn.

In the fourth section, the focus is on the crucial subject of ethical issues and relationships. Since the relationship between the researcher and the participant in a life history is much more robust than in many other methods of research, the researcher needs to exercise caution in considering trust, relationality, power dynamics, the time commitment of the participant, and data presentation. To demonstrate the types of ethical problems that can arise during the data collection and writing processes, this entry draws upon the authors’ personal experiences in the field. This section also outlines ethical guidelines that can help life historians plan the trajectory of their research. As a final matter, how trustworthiness can be established in life history research is considered. This discussion focuses on four criteria—confirmability, credibility, dependability, and transferability—that can be employed to determine the trustworthiness of a life history document.

Through this discussion, this entry endeavors to accomplish four goals: (1) shed light on current and future research trends in life history research, (2) provide clarity about life history as a research method, (3) help those interested in life history research understand its methodological precepts, and (4) highlight the potential for innovative life history projects that can stimulate further dialogue about the intersection of the individual and society.

The Evolution of Life History Research

Life history in the 20th century.

At the outset of the 20th century, many of the first life histories were collected by anthropologists interested in producing autobiographies of Native American chiefs (Radin, 1926/1999). The anthropologists behind such works frequently referred to themselves as “editors,” rather than as “authors,” to underscore their participation as faithful transcribers of a verbalized life story. Radin’s (1926) autobiography of Crashing Thunder, a Winnebago chief from Iowa, is especially notable for two reasons. First, Radin did not incorporate any personal interpretation or analysis in the published version of Crashing Thunder’s life story. Second, Radin ostensibly gathered his data in a single 48-hr time period—a remarkably condensed time frame for a life history venture.

A multivolume work published in five installments from 1918 to 1920, The Polish Peasant in Europe and America by W. I. Thomas and F. Znaniecki, is frequently cited as a landmark achievement in the development of life history methods. At the time of its publication, The Polish Peasant was revolutionary for its integration of theory with empirical evidence. Central to the approximately 2,000-page opus is a 300-page life story of Wladek Wisznienski, a Polish immigrant to the United States. Additional data were drawn not only from the autobiographical accounts of other Polish immigrants but also from existing diaries, letters, and other assorted primary materials. While justifying their methodological decisions, Thomas and Znaniecki provocatively argued that “life records, as complete as possible, constitute the perfect type of sociological material”:

If social science has to use other materials at all, it is only because of the practical difficulty of obtaining at the moment a sufficient number of such records to cover the totality of sociological problems, and of the enormous amount of work demanded for an adequate analysis of all the personal materials necessary to characterize the life of a social group. If we are forced to use mass phenomena as material, or any kind of happenings taken without regard to the life histories of the individuals who participated, it is a defect, not an advantage, of our present sociological method. (pp. 1831–1833)

Buoyed by the success of Thomas and Znaniecki, a “Chicago School” committed to analyzing the city milieu through life histories of “everyday people” emerged as a dominant force in sociological research from 1917 to 1942. Associated with the University of Chicago, the leading figures of the Chicago School were Robert E. Park and Ernest W. Burgess. Under the stewardship of Park and Burgess, the University of Chicago produced a remarkable number of powerful life histories and purportedly trained over half of the world’s sociologists by the 1930s (Deegan, 2001). One of the distinguishing characteristics of the Chicago School was its focus on individuals who were compelled to struggle for limited resources within an “urban ecology” that resembled similarly competitive environments in nature. Particularly notable life histories that emerged from the Chicago School’s theoretical lens included The Hobo (Anderson, 1923), The Gang (Thrasher, 1928), The Ghetto (Wirth, 1928), The Jack-Roller (Shaw, 1930), and The Professional Thief (Cornwell & Sutherland, 1937). The Jack-Roller , a life history of a “delinquent” boy named Stanley who physically beat and robbed individuals imprudent enough to wander through sections of a city marked by homelessness and poverty, has been singled out for special praise. For instance, Howard Becker (1970), a prominent sociologist of the second half of the 20th century, enumerated the Jack-Roller’s impact on sociology with the following appraisal:

The Jack-Roller enables us to improve our theories at the most profound level: by putting ourselves in Stanley’s skin, we can feel and become aware of the deep biases about such people that ordinarily permeate our thinking and shape the kinds of problems we investigate. By truly entering into Stanley’s life, we can begin to see what we take for granted (and ought not to) in designing our research—what kinds of assumptions about delinquents, slums, and Poles are embedded in the way we set the questions we study. (p. 71)

After the university retirements of Park in 1936 and Burgess in 1952, a second Chicago School of sociology examined similar issues of poverty, inner-city communities, and crime; however, the practitioners (Howard Becker, Erving Goffman, David Riesman, among others) employed different qualitative methodologies and tested new theories, such as symbolic interactionism. As a result, life history fell out of fashion for several years as a methodology, even though methodological treatises on how to conduct a life history continued to be written (e.g., Dollard, 1935).

In 1959, C. Wright Mills penned a persuasive defense of biography and life history in his highly influential treatise, The Sociological Imagination . Lamenting that “ordinary people do not possess the quality of mind essential to grasp the interplay of man and society, of biography and history, of self and world” (p. 4), Mills called for sociologists to develop a “quality of mind” that would enable a simultaneous understanding of “history and biography and the relations between the two within society” (p. 6). In a famous justification of his position, Mills argued that “neither the life of an individual nor the history of a society can be understood without understanding both” (p. 3).

Two years later, Lewis (1961) heeded Mills’s call for deeper investigation into both the life of the individual and the history of a society with the publication of The Children of Sánchez . Lewis’s stated purpose in reporting the Mexico City–centered stories of Jesús Sánchez and his four children was to “give the reader an inside view of family life and of what it means to grow up in a one-room home in a slum tenement in the heart of a great Latin American city which is undergoing a process of rapid social and economic change” (p. xi).

In doing so, Lewis demonstrated that a compelling life history could have a substantial impact on public policy. Even though his depiction of a “culture of poverty” has been the subject of criticism, his work renewed scholarly interest in life history research with its effective use of multiple histories, engaging style, and literary conventions.

From the 1970s to the 1990s, a dynamic life history tradition was cultivated in Europe by Daniel Bertaux and Paul Thompson. Both sociologists—hailing from France and the United Kingdom, respectively—demonstrated a talent for completing ambitious life history projects. Bertaux first became known for collecting the life histories of French artisanal bakers who thrived despite the prevalence of industrial baking in other countries (Bertaux & Bertaux-Wiame, 1981); during the early 1990s, he led a research team (with Thompson) that gathered in-depth life histories of individuals from the Soviet Union who persevered under Stalinist rule. In the 1970s, Thompson (1975) compiled the life histories of more than 400 individuals who were born during the reign of Edward VII (1872–1906); later, in Living the Fishing (1983), he explored the links between Scottish fishermen, their families and communities, and their capacity to adjust to changing economic conditions. Bertaux and Thompson (1997) were not only adept at collecting life histories, they shared a belief that contemporaneous sociological approaches, focused on “quantifiable formulae” and “survey instruments,” were too limited for a comprehensive understanding of social mobility:

Unconscious pressure from the technical requirements of the sample to focus on an ideal type of mobility through long-term employment is further reinforced by the strait-jacket which the need for standardization imposes on the interview itself… . Thus typically the same closed questions will be posed to an unskilled worker and a businessman, to a farmer, a civil servant, or a manager in private enterprise… . Yet these different occupations do not share life chances or careers with the same kinds of logic. (p. 9)

Hence, as described by Bertaux and Thompson, the value of life history resides in its ability to explore unanticipated issues; better understand the relationship between individuals, families, and their communities; and develop meaningful theory about social mobility, as well as other sociological themes of interest.

Life History in the Present and Future

The topics for contemporary life histories have continued the 20th-century trend to focus on individuals who might otherwise be left voiceless, overlooked, and/or marginalized by other forms of research. One such life history has used the perspective of an 85-year-old sugarcane farmer in Barbados to launch a critique of the European Union trade regime and neoliberal reforms (Richardson-Ngwenya, 2013). Marya Sosulski, Nicole Buchanan, and Chandra Donnell (2010) combined life history with feminist narrative analysis to contextualize the experiences of a Black woman in the United States who struggles with severe mental illness. Elise Kenter and colleagues (2015) provided a comprehensive overview of the barriers that older adults face in engaging with increased physical activity.

Other recent life histories have been collected in challenging environments where questions might touch upon extremely sensitive topics and/or power dynamics. Two examples include Ronald Berger’s (1995) portrayal of two brothers who survived the Holocaust, and Doris Kakuru and Gaynor Paradza’s (2007) studies of African women in Uganda and Zimbabwe communities where HIV and AIDS are a part of daily life. A common thread emerges among these approaches to life history: They provide much-needed context about the ways in which individuals make sense of their lives within the environments that shape human experience.

In future years, a confluence of technological innovations (including social media), sociopolitical developments, and globalization could compel researchers to reconsider their notions on how life history research should be understood. To cite one example, Kenneth Gergen (1991) has maintained that today’s postmodern individual is exposed to an unprecedented number of relationships, life opportunities, and sources for information about the world—resulting in a “saturated self.” While this milieu facilitates opportunities for increased cultural exchange, it can also complicate self-identity, causing individuals to adopt several socially constructed roles that are dependent upon time and place. Furthermore, the contemporary rise of a neoliberal political-economic environment, in conjunction with the dynamic nature of globalization, threatens to fundamentally alter the relationship between the individual, the nation-state, and society. Subsequent generations may be less concerned about their relationship with the cities and communities examined by the first Chicago School and more concerned about their place in an ill-defined social hierarchy that is largely enacted in virtual space.

Recent examples of innovative life histories grapple with these recent scholarly challenges. William Tierney and Nidhi Sabharwal (2017), for example, note that a paucity of life histories currently exist about the young, especially in schools and universities in locations other than the United States and Europe. Indeed, life histories undertaken in developing countries often portray an “exotic” culture in ways that circumscribe identity. Hence, Tierney and Sabharwal present four life histories of male adolescents in India who attend elite postsecondary institutions, thereby challenging preconceptions about universities, identity, and the life history undertaking itself.

Mirka Koro-Ljungberg and Justin Hendricks (2017) similarly invite their reader to reassess assumptions about life history research by arguing that “life is about singularities, a set of connections which cannot be traced back to a particular individual or subject” (n.p.). Building on the philosophical work of Henri Bergson (1946/2007), Koro-Ljungberg and Hendricks encourage the reader to “think of time as a-centered and multiple rather than the homogeneous and linear. Thinking of time in this way opens up new possibilities for what we think of as history and life” (n.p.). Through interviews with young adults who progressed through the foster care system, they demonstrate how present-day conceptions of the self may be fragmented in unanticipated ways. Future researchers may take up the call of Koro-Ljungberg and Hendricks to build “fragmented” and “heterogeneous” narratives that are linked by the focus on a single individual’s life history but are nevertheless destabilized by temporal factors that complicate narratives focusing on a single historical progression.

Defining Life History

Multiple definitions, multiple approaches.

Life history is one of many narrative forms that can be used effectively to depict an individual’s story. Hence, the broad category of narrative research contains many related genres including autobiography, autoethnography, life story, and oral history. Although an autobiography and an autoethnography are both told from the viewpoint of the subject, the difference between the two involves the purpose of the text. An autobiography is focused on using the narrative as a vehicle for greater intimacy and deeper understanding about a specific individual, while an autoethnography attempts to place the individual narrative within a sociocultural framework. An oral history is similar to a life history in that both approaches can concern the “process of conducting and recording interviews with people in order to elicit information from them about the past” (Abrams, 2016, p. 2). An oral history project, however, may have a goal of capturing as many pertinent perspectives and recollections as possible about a given event or series of related events. In addition, any recordings and transcriptions that are gathered for an oral history are often preserved in archives, so that other scholars can utilize them for subsequent research projects. Hence, two ways in which a life history differs from an oral history involve coverage (a focus on an individual life vs. the systematic collection of testimonies for reconstructing history) and product (the creation of a document centering on individual experience vs. the collection and preservation of publicly accessible knowledge).

There is even less of a clearly drawn distinction between a life history and a life story. Some researchers see the terms as synonyms, while others formulate a difference that makes sense for a given project. James Peacock and Dorothy Holland (1993) offer their own justification for using the term “life story” instead of “life history”:

“Life story” is meant simply the story of someone’s life. For our purposes, “story” is preferable to “history” because it does not connote that the narrative is true, that the events narrated necessarily happened, or that it matters whether they did or not. (p. 368)

Peacock and Hollard make a common distinction here—namely, that a “story” could contain false or unverifiable information. Hence, the story represents a subjective, if not admittedly biased, retrospective of past events. Even if a life story is not an objective retelling, however, the memories of a single individual can be extremely valuable. They can provide useful insights into how individuals remember past phenomena, understand their place within society, and react to current and future events based on that information.

A life historian may similarly encounter suspect information in the narratives of their participants. For the purposes of scholarly research, a life historian need not correct the participant, as if a phenomenon only has one valid interpretation. Instead, the life historian should make every attempt to understand the broader perspective of events that are narrated by the participant through related primary and secondary sources. In doing so, the life historian can present, to both the participant and the reader, alternative viewpoints and explanations about a phenomenon. The participant may even engage with this information, observing where it triggers deeper memories and/or noting where it is lacking in firsthand knowledge.

In short, the process of conducting life history research defies one single established procedure. Moreover, life history methods have largely developed in an organic fashion, with researchers focusing on a holistic (not selective) accrual of empirical data and a writing style that plays to the strengths of the researcher and the participant. Given the multiplicity of their approaches, it is understandable that researchers have conceptualized the method in similar, yet distinct (even idiosyncratic), ways. The following sample presents three respected definitions of life history from different time periods to convey a sense for this diversity of approaches:

“Life history … [refers] to an extensive record of a person’s life as it is reported either by the person himself or by others or both, and whether it is written or in interviews or both” (Langness, 1965, p. 4).
“Life histories are distinguished from biographies in fields other than anthropology—such as history or literature—by choice of subject (usually ordinary people, rather than public figures, often non-literate members of traditional societies, ethnic minorities, or urban sub-cultures); by fieldwork methods involving face-to-face interaction (collaboration with a living subject through interviews that are usually tape-recorded and transcribed and the use of observations and sometimes personal documents, such as diaries or historical records); and formal attention to topics of theoretical interest in the discipline (such as how individuals acquire a particular cultural, gender, or political identity)” (Frank, 1996, p. 705).
“The life history, like the autobiography, presents the subject from his own perspective. It differs from the autobiography in that it is an immediate response to a demand posed by an Other and carries within it the expectations of that Other. It is, as it were, doubly edited, during the encounter itself and during the literary re-encounter” (Crapanzano, 2009, p. 4).

As stated at the outset, the definition used in this entry starts with the notion that a life history is a dynamic and recursive process between researcher and participant. It combines elements from each of the three aforementioned definitions to stipulate four additional conditions for defining a life history:

The narrative is jointly constructed by the researcher and the participant, using multiple data sources (which are delineated in the next section).
The activities of data collection and analysis, often treated in a discrete fashion in other methodologies, occur simultaneously.
Context is important in the final document, as both the participant’s life and the participant’s relationship with the researcher need to be disclosed in detail.
Some authors of life histories may not choose to explicitly engage with theory, analysis, and/or interpretation, but a systematic documentation of each step in the research process is necessary for credibility.

The definition—and its allied conditions—outlined here may not be an ideal fit for every life history endeavor. As demonstrated by the definitions proposed by Lewis Langness, Gelya Frank, and Vincent Crapanzano, researchers are likely to tweak their conceptualizations of a life history to match the specific nature of the relationship between researchers and participants, the perceived strengths of their work, and the expectations of their disciplines. For this reason, some scholars contend that life historians need to make the methodological framework, as well as the research assumptions scaffolding their work, evident from the outset of the narrative.

Three Common Approaches to Life History Research

Today, researchers generally utilize one of three approaches to a life history project. The first approach views life history as a “portal” through which a single individual’s understanding of their life experiences can shed light on a larger cultural process or narrative. As described by Charlotte Linde (1993), “the portal approach attempts to use the life history to learn about some reality external to the story, which the life history is presumed to mirror” (p. 48). Research by Kristin Haglund (2004) and Peter Davis (2006) has employed the portal approach to help the reader understand adolescent health–related issues and the dynamics of poverty, respectively. While a portal approach may be attractive to researchers due to its potential for generalizable claims, such an analysis can overlook vital contextual information that makes the life history unique in its own right.

For this reason, several scholars have advocated for a “process” approach that employs thick description and emphasizes contextual elements which inform the life history. Under such an approach, the roles of the individual under study, the life historian, and the reader are each scrutinized in detail. The analysis of these roles is of particular importance, as the life historian’s use of language invariably shapes the reader’s understanding of the narrative; as a result, the researcher is recognized as the conduit through which the life history is revealed to the reader. While this approach acknowledges multiple constructions of reality and meaning, as represented by the mutability of language, it can also be potentially frustrating for policy makers interested in more generalizable data. A writer adopting a process approach needs to have considerable faith in the readers’ willingness and ability to consider how the ideas and concepts presented in the text resonate with their lived realities.

A third approach, the “cultural biography,” focuses primarily on the evolving relationship between the interviewer and the informant. Two key distinctions of the cultural biography involve (1) the amount of time devoted to research, which can often involve years and (2) how emergent themes develop over time. Cultural biographies can provide useful insights into phenomena that unfold in a temporal manner (such as the implementation of an educational reform). Another salient aspect of the cultural biography concerns the necessity for reflexivity on the part of the researcher, particularly if the researcher’s presumptions are challenged in a meaningful way. Since the relationship between the researcher and participant takes center stage, a cultural biography requires arguably more negotiation and revision than the other two approaches. Nonetheless, it is important to note that the amount of time required for data collection, analysis, and presentation in a cultural biography may limit its attractiveness to scholars concerned about grant applications and the publication expectations of their respective institutions. These methodological concerns are the focus of the ensuing section.

Methodological Matters

In recent years, many legislators and policy makers have consistently expressed a desire for evidence-based research in the social sciences. Although “evidence” is a concept that can be interpreted in numerous ways, the term “evidence-based” has become a code for quantitative research that employs a randomized controlled trial methodology and is replicated by other researchers. Whenever possible, researchers are encouraged to use large-scale surveys and/or data sets, even if the data include markedly different cultures, societies, or value systems. The impetus behind such research is understandable. Educational researchers, for example, have the opportunity to meaningfully influence public policy by identifying a variable that increases student persistence or by testing an intervention that improves teacher performance and seems scalable.

The intention here is not to argue that either quantitative or qualitative studies are superior for research in the social sciences. Both approaches are essential for a greater understanding of phenomena and should, therefore, be viewed as harmonious contributions to human inquiry rather than as adversarial camps producing dissonant forms of knowledge. The strengths of large-scale quantitative research concern its potential for offering clarity on complex topics and for producing findings that are generalizable across a given population. Just as qualitative research cannot generalize due to its sample size, quantitative methodologies also have limitations. One major limitation concerns the reductive nature of quantitative analyses. This is not a criticism of quantitative research, as nearly every field of academic study employs similarly reductive methods in the pursuit of greater understanding. In the field of music theory, for instance, a researcher may employ Schenkerian analysis to establish hierarchical relationships between musical notes, eliminate the pitches that seem superfluous, and produce a final graphic representation that reveals the Ursatz —the work’s basic underlying structure.

One weakness of such reductive methods is that they fail to capture important material that is pertinent for a comprehensive understanding of a multifaceted topic. Upon seeing a Schenkerian analysis of Beethoven’s Symphony No. 3 (“Eroica”), Arnold Schoenberg, an acclaimed composer of the 20th century, is reported to have asked, “Where are all my favorite notes?” (Epstein, 1981, p. 145). A well-conceived life history offers an established methodological technique to access and give voice to those otherwise neglected notes. In a contemporary space in which the voices of the marginalized and the underrepresented are under attack by neoliberal reform measures and populist political movements, qualitative methodologies, such as life history, assume even greater significance. For certain topics, life history may, in fact, offer the best avenue for examining the effects of policy and public discourse on individual lives over time.

Therefore, some scholars offer that researchers, before embarking on a life history project, should carefully consider several factors. They should assess the suitability of the proposed topic or participant to the method. The viability of undertaking a time-consuming life history that will likely involve multiple hours of interviews and several types of data sources should be deliberated. The epistemological perspective of researchers also comes into play, as a positivist may not feel comfortable with the constructed nature of data analysis and the interpretation of evidence. Finally, the ability of the researcher to translate data into a persuasive, cogent story that does justice to the participant’s life and the larger issues under study is key in determining whether or not a life history will have impact. In the remainder of this section, each of these factors is addressed in turn.

Identifying a Topic

The identification of a suitable topic for a life history is not always a clear-cut decision. At times, researchers may be inspired to pursue a life history after meeting someone who is especially memorable and well-suited to speak about a given phenomenon. At other times, they may be motivated by dissatisfaction about the current state of research on a specific topic. Radin (1913), a folklorist and cultural anthropologist of the early 20th century, memorably expressed his frustration with the methodologies his colleagues used to study Native American communities and his decision to take a different approach:

They represented but the skeleton and bones of the culture they sought to portray; that what was needed, if we were ever to understand the [Native American], was an interpretation of his life and emotions from within … . I happened to run across one of those serious and sedate middle-aged individuals whom one is likely to meet in almost every civilization, and who, if they chose to speak in a natural and detached manner about the culture to which they belonged, could throw more light upon the working of a [Native American’s] brain than any mass of information systematically and carefully obtained by an outsider. (pp. 293–294)

In short, there are many reasons for conducting life history research. One common goal, however, is for the researcher to help overlooked or disenfranchised individuals make their stories known. The choice of a life history topic incorporates this desire to engage the reader with a narrative of deep resonance and share new information that has the potential to transform contemporary thought about a topic of social relevance.

Data Sources

Multiple data sources can inform the analysis and presentation of a life history. The following presents three of the most common sources utilized in life history research: interviews, observations, and artifacts.

One-on-one interviews constitute the majority of data for most life history projects. In many qualitative studies, researchers choose to structure their interviews with a carefully developed and organized list of questions that are addressed to each participant. The goal of these structured interview protocols is often to compare answers among participants and analyze the resulting data based on similarities and differences that are observed in the transcribed responses. Kvale (2007) describes the role of the interviewer in such a structured setting as that of an “excavator” motivated by the desire to “unearth” data from the participant. This strategy is particularly useful in instances when researchers specifically know what information they hope to gather.

For the life history interview, however, a different type of protocol may be more propitious. Over time, the researcher should become familiar with many personal details about the participant. To build trust with the participant, the researcher may even choose to share personal reflections and experiences during one of several interviews conducted over a period of time. Thus, a semistructured interview protocol, based on broadly conceived themes, may be preferable, as it acknowledges the mutually constructed nature of a life history. At times, a life historian may even need to be prepared to concede control over the narrative, as the participant will possibly want to guide discussions in an unanticipated direction. Rather than viewing the interview from a scientific perspective that accentuates control over the environment, a life historian might be better advised to approach interviews as an art form that one develops after considerable practice and expertise.

Observations

Insofar as a life history is likely to extend over time, the researcher has the potential to observe the participant in multiple settings. Unlike some interviews that may be brief and held in a researcher’s office, the life history is an undertaking in which the participant should have the agency to suggest locations for meetings and engage the researcher at times and places of his or her choosing. Researchers might find themselves invited to assemblies or rituals in which the participant regularly participates. Observations may therefore occur in environments where a great deal of interpersonal communication takes place, or they may involve a delicate balance between human engagement and note-taking as the participant purposefully shows the researcher an item or a location of personal significance. The setting may provide as much beneficial data as individual statements made by the participant during an interview. Oscar Lewis, for example, conducted his study in the village and the home of his participants. With most life histories, observational data accordingly play a key role in data collection and analysis.

Artifacts can include a wide range of documents including diaries, field notes, letters, photographs, and video recordings. Depending on the life history topic, other forms of documents may also be included. In educational settings, written feedback from an instructor or a syllabus can be a useful artifact. For researchers investigating a foreign environment, all kinds of artifacts may carry symbolic meaning or personal significance if they are considered in a reflexive fashion.

Digital artifacts are becoming an increasingly important form of communication, particularly for Millennials. Many of the most influential interactions for people of all ages take place on social media platforms like Twitter, Facebook, and Yelp. A LinkedIn page can provide useful data about how an individual constructs his or her professional online identity. When collecting data, researchers should be mindful that digital artifacts (such as websites) are prone to instantaneous mutability and change. Some individuals regularly delete old posts, especially if they are concerned that an “ancient” exchange may be viewed retroactively in a negative light. Institutions clear their backup systems from time to time. Any digital artifact of significance should be preserved by researchers on a password-protected backup system, as long as they have the approval of their participants.

Data Analysis and Presentation

Data analysis is frequently done in step with data collection. That is, rather than a linear process, data analysis is an ongoing project between researcher and researched. The researcher is trying to make sense of what the subject has said (or done), and sensemaking comes not only through traditional forms such as triangulation but also through ongoing dialogue with the interviewee. Codes, categories, and themes evolve from the data, and because the history generally evolves over time, they will change as the researcher gains access to new data or by way of clarification and further discussion with the research subject.

To organize events and ensure accuracy, the researcher also has the ability to invite the participant to jointly construct a time line. This technique enables the interviewee to have an increased degree of ownership in the emerging narrative. Another possibility is that the narrative is co-constructed to such an extent that the interviewer and interviewee are joint authors. A third possibility, the testimonio, is that the author of the text is actually listed as the subject of the study and the interviewer is secondary. The testimonio is perhaps the most overtly political of tracts where the historian is making the point that the words of the text are not the researcher’s but the speaker’s. Accordingly, authorial power is in the hands of the subaltern.

One subject of appreciable discussion about life histories pertains to the audience for whom the text is intended, as well as its purpose. Because life histories do not have to be overly dry or academic, they have the potential to reach broad audiences that traditional academic texts cannot. The result is that many who pen a life history pay increased attention to presentation and the narrative form in terms of the structure and internal grammar of the text. A life history can make for compelling reading insofar as it involves the real-world events of an individual. Most academics neither have the predilection nor talent to write in a manner akin to a novelist. Certainly, quantitative research and a great deal of qualitative work might make for superb nonfiction, but the underlying premise is to avoid anything that might seem fanciful. A life historian, nevertheless, has the ability to create a story that compels the reader to think through multiple ramifications of a person’s life. The richer the data—as long as the research process adheres to criteria for trustworthiness—the more likely it is the reader will not only understand that life but also want to read the text.

A further point pertains to the purpose of life history. A life history will reflect the focus the author has assumed, so that one who adopts a portal approach will try to enable the reader to understand a life perhaps very different from their own. Others who adopt a psychological framework might wish to enable the reader to understand how a person acts in a particular manner, based on that person’s psychological makeup. Still others may wish to portray a life in order to stimulate the reader and affect change. Life histories of homeless youth, for example, may not only provide understanding to a life that the reader has never experienced, but they may also push the reader to create more humane approaches to homelessness in his or her city or town. And the testimonio is perhaps the most politicized of life histories, whereby the author acknowledges and validates the person who has been marginalized and silent by helping them produce a witness account of the challenges and oppression that they have faced.

Ethical Issues and Relationships

Robert Atkinson (2012) argues that “the interviewer’s primary job is to be a sensitive, respectful listener in guiding the life storyteller’s narration” (p. 2). While some might quibble with the notion that the interviewer should “guide” the storyteller, they likely would agree with the basic premise that sensitivity, respect, and trust are essential for a life history project to be fruitful. Sara Lawrence-Lightfoot and Jessica Hoffmann-Davis (1997) have eloquently depicted the relationship between researcher and participant as “central to the empirical, ethical, and humanistic dimensions of research design, as evolving and changing processes of human encounter” (p. 27). One strategy to engender trust and acknowledge the humanistic dimensions of life history research is to invite the participant to engage in participant review, a form of feedback that invites commentary from the participant. Often, participant review (also known as “member checking”) is assumed to be most useful once a full draft has been completed. However, Jacquie Aston (2001) describes the value of participant review, at an early transcription stage, in building trust with participants:

The stories that Paige shared in our first meeting held a lot of emotion. My custom was to provide complete transcripts of the conversations shortly after each conversation. When Paige saw in words what she had shared, she was concerned as to whether she had been too negative about some people in her life. We looked together at how she might modify the text without changing the essence of the meaning and how she would want to represent different people in her life. A sense of trust that stories will be treated with sensitivity is essential in this style of working with people. (p. 147)

The benefits of participant review and collaboration move beyond issues of trust and respect. Language is a metaphor for human experience. As a result, collaboration between the researcher and the participant in the use of language can result in amplified sensitivity to depictions of individuals and events, as well as increased accuracy in empirically observed phenomena.

Inevitably, the standpoint of the researcher comes into question. The sociocultural background of the researcher is likely quite different from that of the participant. Virtually all of the life histories mentioned in this entry, for example, involved authors whose life experiences were radically different from the experiences of their participants. Generally, White American or European males gathered data from generally non-White indigenous males and females. The authors held advanced degrees and hailed from a middle- or upper-class background; meanwhile, the participants frequently were illiterate and poor. Such difference was purportedly irrelevant. Mimicking social and natural science, the assumption was that a researcher’s background ought not to matter if the data were collected and analyzed in a scientific manner. The challenge was simply that the researcher needed to learn the language of the researched.

However, recent work has pointed out the critical importance of one’s standpoint in not only how one obtains data but also interprets it. The point is not that sociocultural difference invalidates data or makes its analysis impossible but that it changes the text. The result is that one needs to be forthcoming about how the data were collected, and in some manner, the author’s voice is likely to be present in ways that it is usually absent in more standard texts.

Atkinson (2012) has suggested that a life story interview should be a “mutually equitable” relationship. However, power relations inevitably play a role. The objectivity that is fundamental for scientific research gets changed here. One needs to empathize with participants in a manner that frequently is the opposite of what one does in more traditional studies. Rather than assume a stance that is distanced from the research subject, the researcher is more likely to seek a closer identification with the participant. Indeed, even the use of words such as “subject” or “participant” is brought into question insofar as they imply a dualism that will not always be self-evident. Instead, as with Gelya Frank’s work, Venus on Wheels , the author may become intimately involved in a way that generates data that strengthen the reader’s understanding of the person whose history is being told.

Thus, a few strategic choices need to be made, such as:

1. Explain clearly and exactly the purposes of and time commitment necessary for the research project. All of the information should be included in a consent form, of which the participant and the researcher keep signed copies.
2. Recognize that power dynamics exist between researcher and participant. The researcher should not coerce or place the participant in difficult circumstances where the participant feels obliged to contribute or partake in an activity.
3. Prioritize the participant’s well-being above the research project.
4. Protect the participant’s identity and privacy.
5. Present data accurately and obtain feedback from the participant throughout the writing of the text.

Establishing Trustworthiness

To establish trustworthiness and rigor in qualitative research, four criteria have been identified as particularly valuable: confirmability, credibility, dependability, and transferability (Lincoln & Guba, 1985). Confirmability is often presumed to be a problem for qualitative researchers hoping to extend the applicability of their findings, since a constructivist perspective presumes that different researchers will bring unique perspectives to the field under study. Therefore, a researcher can establish confirmability by keeping records of all memos, notes, protocols, and transcripts that are accumulated over the course of a life history project. In addition, researchers should be prepared to provide multiple types of evidence—in the form of quotes, written feedback, and other documented interactions—to support their findings and assertions.

Credibility—the extent to which interpretations of the data seem plausible—can be established through three methods. First, one can triangulate multiple forms of data including primary and secondary source materials from the literature review, transcripts of interviews, personal memos, artifacts, and descriptive statistics. Second, the researcher establishes prolonged engagement with the participant. Sustained contact helps to build trust, so that data from interviews are able to provide rich data for analysis. Third, the researcher should share preliminary drafts with participants. Due to their own busy lives, some participants may provide less extensive feedback than others. Regardless, this process of participant review not only ensures that the researcher captures the voice and the perspective of a participant in a faithful manner, but it also can engender a considerable degree of self-reflection on the part of participants. Participant review encourages individuals to reflect on their previous statements and the topics under study, making follow-up interviews more likely to elicit additional data for analysis.

Dependability is largely reliant on the researcher staying attuned to changes in the research setting. In 2016, one of the authors of this article, Michael Lanford, was conducting research in an area impacted by a large hurricane. The hurricane caused considerable damage to many participants’ homes and the surrounding metropolitan area. In particular, infrastructure related to technology and online coursework was impacted. Hence, access to technology, already a topic of considerable interest (and dismay) to many of the study’s participants, became even more of an imperative. In the presentation of data, the author acknowledged and discussed this environmental change, as it may have affected the perceptions and observations of his participants, as well as the results. By discussing similar developments that impacted the local community, other researchers can feel confident that the results and conclusions, while not necessarily replicable by the standards of quantitative research, represent an authentic portrayal of the events that transpired.

Transferability is a key criterion that provides qualitative research with an analogue for the concept of generalizability in quantitative research. The most common way to establish transferability is through the use of “thick description” (Geertz, 1973). For a life history, the researcher should be careful to detail descriptions of participants, their interactions, and developments that influenced the direction of the research.

As demonstrated here, life history is an increasingly popular qualitative research methodology with several distinctive features. It offers researchers the opportunity to explore lived experience with a level of flexibility, depth, and pertinence that is difficult to experience with other methodologies. Nevertheless, a researcher interested in employing life history needs to feel comfortable with its foundational assumptions, methodological process, and ethical concerns.

A primary assumption of life history research is that understanding the specific context and actions of one person is paramount to developing and refining theoretical frameworks pertinent to social science inquiry. To be clear, research is not focused on why someone acts in a particular way but on how it is that person has come to act in a certain fashion. Although much policy assumes that individuals are reactive, life history research presumes that individuals have agency. Indeed, they are creators of the world in which they reside.

From a methodological standpoint, life history is a dynamic and recursive process between researcher and participant. This methodological process is faithful to the assumptions behind life history research; it allows the participant to have considerable agency in depicting and understanding life experiences. Another distinctive methodological feature of life history is that data collection and analysis takes place simultaneously. While collecting data, the researcher develops and tests codes, categories, and theories. As a result, the completed life history should be replete with context, depicting the relevant historical, social, and cultural circumstances that make up the participant’s environment. The relationship of the participant with the researcher should also be described in considerable detail. For these reasons, the life history researcher needs to adopt a writing style that embraces reflexivity, empathy, thick description, and a dedication to the craft of writing.

Finally, the utility of a life history is grounded in the belief that an individual’s life can be descriptive of larger realities. Whether one adopts a portal, process, or cultural biography approach, a life history should afford the reader an opportunity to understand the effect of larger processes, such as globalization, that are difficult to comprehend through large data sets and cross-national studies. To this end, an effective life history should not reduce individuals to singular identities, as if they embody certain characteristics that one might find in abundance within a given population. Instead, a successful life history documents the multivocality and multidirectionality of a person’s identity while offering a unique perspective on contemporary social issues. Such an approach is especially useful in giving voice to marginalized individuals who might be otherwise disregarded in public policy debates. Hence, life history research not only has the potential to impact the viewpoints and actions of the researcher and participant, it can inform public policy and transform societal conditions that marginalize many and privilege others.