Space,Place,and Narrative Methodology: The Generative Potential of Interview Locations

Abstract

A considerable amount of the knowledge produced by qualitative research is constructed with the use of interview methods. In this methodological space, interview location is largely discussed pragmatically, reduced to a technical consideration for the data collection stage. Subsequently, the methodological importance of interview location is underexplored, and the generative potential of different interview sites undertheorised. This article draws on empirical work conducted in the field of criminology as an exemplar to inform other qualitative researchers in the social sciences – particularly those interested in narrative methodologies. Utilising conceptualisations of ‘space’ and ‘place’ the article illustrates how different locations influence the richness and depth of participant storytelling, and facilitate or inhibit the construction of spatially specific narrative identities. The contribution this makes is twofold. First, the article illustrates how conceptualising interview location as part of the methodological and analytical process enables the researcher to take seriously its role in the production of knowledge, contributing to the overall transparency and rigour of the research. Second, the article demonstrates how conceptualising participant safety in different spaces as having emotional and psychological dimensions enhances ethical practice for narrative work in particular.

Introduction

Interviews have long dominated the field of qualitative research across the social sciences (Clark et al., 2021; Elliott, 2005; Herzog, 2012). To address resistance to its non-scientific origins, how data is collected through interview methodology is interrogated at length. Feminist literature has encouraged qualitative researchers to critically examine the interaction between participants and researchers, and to account for how power dynamics play a fundamental role in the creation of interview data (Oakley, 1981; Thwaites, 2017). These discussions of researcher positionality and interactional dynamics – the ‘who’ and the ‘how’ – help to account for how the interviewer and their chosen approach shapes the data produced (see Anderson and Jones, 2009; Elliott, 2005). However, while a growing number of scholars are calling for greater exploration of the influence of interview location – the ‘where’ (see Leverentz, 2023; Sand et al., 2022) – such discussions are often missing from research methods textbooks and articles (Elwood and Martin, 2000). Where location is mentioned, it is often discussed in relation to participant and researcher safety, privacy, and the risk of being interrupted (see Clark et al., 2021; Wincup, 2017). Subsequently, interview location is generally viewed solely as the site where data is collected (see Bjørvik et al., 2023; Elliott, 2005; Leverentz, 2023).

This article draws on conceptualisations of ‘space’ and ‘place’ to illustrate the importance of interview location for narrative research, providing transferable insights for qualitative methodology more broadly. First, it will consider how different interview locations influence the richness of qualitative data, facilitating depth and nuance in some cases, while limiting the potential for insight in others. How different environments can help to provide a sense of emotional and psychological security will be explored, illustrating the need for a broader understanding of what safety means with regard to qualitative interviews. Second, reflecting on the influence of interview location for the construction of narrative, the article will explore how different sites can provide spatially specific prompts for remembering life events, and for constructing and performing different narrative identities. By illustrating the generative potential of different interview locations and considering their complex emotional dimensions, the article offers a valuable source of reflection for social science researchers.

Narrative methodologies and the sociology of storytelling

Falling under the umbrella of biographical methods, narrative approaches explore the interplay between individuals and society (Chamberlayne et al., 2000). Narrative approaches maintain that, through a constantly evolving inner narrative, we make sense of our lives and establish continuity between the past, the present, and the future (McAdams and McLean, 2013; Sandberg and Ugelvik, 2016). It is said that people establish a narrative identity that conveys ‘who they are now, how they came to be and where they think their lives may be going in the future’ (McAdams and McLean, 2013, p. 233). Subsequently, narrative researchers often turn to interviewing techniques that encourage participants to share their life stories (Elliott, 2005).

Far from being precise, impassive reiterations of past experiences, narratives are actively constructed by the narrator, for a particular audience (Freeman, 2010; Gubrium and Holstein, 2002). Owing to this co-construction of meaning, narrative researchers carry a particular responsibility to account of how knowledge is produced via their interactions with participants. Subsequently, a key question for narrative inquiry is ‘why, in the particular moment of the telling, that unique story is told to the researcher in that particular way’ (Gemignani, 2014, p. 129). However, with some notable exceptions (see Bjørvik et al., 2023; Elwood and Martin, 2000), narrative literature is yet to fully explore the significance of interview location in this process of co-construction. Some authors explicitly note that interviews were conducted in participants’ homes but do not explain in detail why this was case, or account for the impact that it had on research findings (Anderson and Kirkpatrick, 2015; Maruna, 2001). In some texts, location is discussed relatively briefly in terms of comfort and freedom to speak openly (Sandberg et al., 2019), and in others it is noted that different interview locations were used without a discussion of how this influenced participant narratives (Kras, 2022). Even in texts which provide detailed guidance on how to prepare for and conduct a narrative interview, discussion of location is largely absent (Elliott, 2005; Jovchelovitch and Bauer, 2000).

Space, place, and qualitative research

While interview location is often overlooked, a greater appreciation of the sensory and affective dimensions of qualitative research is emerging within the social sciences. Researchers are increasingly recognising how sensory stimuli impact memory, meaning-making, and communication, ultimately enriching interactions and thus, research findings (Herrity et al., 2021; Howes, 2022; Hurdley and Dicks, 2011). This growing interest in how nonvisual, sensory elements shape interpretation and meaning-making processes is an important step towards a more thorough interrogation of how knowledge is produced by qualitative research (Hayward, 2021; McClanahan and South, 2020). Furthermore, it has been argued that to foreground the sensory and the affective is to enhance participant agency and add an additional later of ethical care in research practice (Herrity et al., 2022). For those encouraging free association and the following of emotional logic in narrative interviews (see below), these are particularly important considerations.

It is within this dialogue that ‘space’ and ‘place’ can offer useful reflexive tools. Originally attributed to the discipline of geography, these conceptualisation offer a way of thinking about how people engage with their lived environments (Hubbard et al., 2004). Space is conceptualised as a site of both material conditions and of social relations (Hubbard et al., 2004). Place is conceptualised as ‘a particular form of space, one that is created through acts of naming as well as the distinctive activities and imaginings associated with a particular social space’ (Hubbard et al., 2004: 4). These ‘meaningful locations’ (Cresswell, 2015: 12) provide ‘a sense of belonging for those who live in them, and are seen as providing a locus for identity’ (Hubbard et al., 2004: 5). As such, places are political, emotive, and cultured; they are ‘humanised versions of space’ (Anderson and Jones, 2009: 293).

It has been suggested that, alongside space, place is ‘perhaps the key term of interdisciplinary research in the arts, humanities and social sciences in the twenty-first century’ (Cresswell, 2015: 1). Key thinkers such as Edward Said, Stuart Hall, Ulrich Beck, and Michel Foucault have each discussed the importance of space and place in their socio-political commentary of contemporary life (Hubbard et al., 2004). Conceptualising space and place as more than physical or geographical realities, they each highlight how they act as social, political, dynamic forces, with implications for identity, representation, and connection. In doing so, they critically interrogate the relationship between space, place, and power, illustrating the implications this has for practices and sites of exclusion, punishment, control, and resistance, for individuals and communities (see Beck, 1992; Foucault, 1965; Hall and Jefferson, 1976; Said, 1978).

Space and place have particular relevance when considering how interview data is collected, analysed, and presented. At the data collection stage, participants’ choice of where to be interviewed, and their responses to different interview locations, can be seen as a source of data (Leverentz, 2023). Considering the interview itself, Quinney et al. (2016: 3) explain that the ‘felt-space’ influences power dynamics, altering behaviour and responses at both a conscious and subconscious level. Simply put, interview location shapes what participants share, and how they share it (Bjørvik et al., 2023). At the analysis stage, Gangnon et al. (2015: 205) demonstrate how conceptualisations of space and place enable researchers to consider ‘how power dynamics, social relations, identities and meanings unfold during the interview process’. Indeed, Elwood and Martin (2000: 649) argue that the specific ‘micro-geographies’ of interview sites can offer important insights when researchers pay attention to how people interact and position themselves in different spaces. In sum, paying greater attention to the where of interview methodology can lead to richer data, and more nuanced engagement with social practise (Anderson and Jones, 2009; Quinney et al., 2016).

The example study

The example study explored the long-term consequences of early-life criminal justice interactions for people living with criminal records in England and Wales (henceforth PWCRs). The research explored (1) how people make sense of life experiences, (2) how they construct a narrative identity to defend against the stigma of a criminal record, and (3) what meaning(s) they give to their criminal record as a result. Of particular relevance to this article, one area of focus was the complex ways participants constructed and reinforced a more ‘pro-social’ narrative identity (e.g. parent, professional, mentor) to articulate a moral core self which is distinguishable from their stigmatising criminal record (see Grace, 2022; Maruna, 2001).

The interviews

Fourteen participants were each interviewed twice. Free Association Narrative Interviewing (FANI) was used to encourage participants to share stories about their lives. This approach to interviewing maintains that people use emotional logic when storytelling, organically choosing what to share and how to share it (see Holloway and Jefferson, 2000). As noted by Frosh and Young (2008: 114), it is this emotional storytelling that ‘points to a person’s subjective meaning making’. Four key principles are used to facilitate this emotional storytelling: (1) only use open-ended questions, (2) elicit stories to anchor accounts to events or experiences that have happened to them, (3) avoid asking ‘why?’ questions, and (4) use the same ordering and phrasing as the participant when following up in the second interview (Holloway and Jefferson, 2000).

FANI is designed to give participants a higher degree of control over what is discussed, when, and to what extent (Holloway and Jefferson, 2000). The role of the researcher is to ensure the conditions of the interview are appropriate for eliciting ‘thoughtful conversation’ on topics most pertinent to the participant (Frosh and Young, 2008: 119). Subsequently, it is often claimed that the approach reduces the power imbalance between participant and researcher, and places the story as told by the participant at the centre of analysis (Frosh and Young, 2008). The first interview started with, ‘could you tell me about your life, living with a criminal record?’ and I prompted with non-verbal cues (e.g. nodding) and filler sounds (i.e. the mmm’s). The interviews were recorded on a small audio-recording device, placed to the side of us where possible. In the second interview follow-up questions also adhered to the FANI principles, framed as, ‘could you tell me more about X?’. Prompting is an important part of FANI as it allows the researcher to explore contradictions, missed details, and initial interpretations (Lukac-Greenwood and Bager-Charleson, 2024). In total, just under 30 hours of audio was recorded.

While steps were taken to reduce the power imbalance and create safe and comfortable space for storytelling (see the upcoming discussion), location was only given limited consideration when arranging the interviews. Participants were asked if they had a preferred meeting spot or if they would like the researcher to find an appropriate space, but this conversation largely revolved around logistics and privacy. This meant the discussion of ‘appropriate’ spaces was, in hindsight, oversimplified. Eleven participants suggested various spaces they were already familiar with, including workplaces, university campuses, and home locations, citing convenience and privacy as the main reasons. Three participants asked that the researcher find a meeting place and we met in well-known chain cafés and restaurants in their local area.

Analysis

Narrative analysis involves examining how a narrative is told, why it was told in that way, and what the narrative is ‘doing’ with regard to the construction of selfhood (see Goodson, 2013; Jones, 2008). Informed by psychosocial narrative approaches to qualitative research (see Gadd and Farrall, 2004; Goodson, 2013), a thematic analysis was conducted identifying: (1) investment in discourse and engagement with techniques of neutralisation, (2) biographically significant narrative lynchpins and life-course trajectories, and (3) experiences of criminal record disclosure. A pen portrait was written for each participant to provide an overview of the narrative shared, including any inconsistencies or contradictions, to enable multiple readings and interpretations (Gadd, 2012).

To explore how interview location shaped the knowledge produced by the research transcripts were reviewed for any references to the physical space or objects within it. I also looked for references to place attachments within the narratives and considered how participants spoke about the locations we met in, if at all. Finally, I revisited my field diary entries which were written immediately after each interview to seek any reference to the spaces I conducted them in. This allowed me to retrospectively account for how interview location played a fundamental role in my understanding and thus, presentation of, participant narratives, shaping my research findings overall. While interview location shaped each of the interviews, this article will focus on the most pertinent illustrative examples. Pseudonyms have been used in this article, as agreed with participants at the time of the interviews.

Exploring different interview locations

Home spaces

Ahad, Louise, Ben, and Glenn, each invited me to their homes. I conducted myself as a guest, following their lead on when and where to sit, and when it was time to leave (see Lydahl, 2021, for a discussion of researchers as guests). The start of these interviews felt relaxed with us making hot drinks and engaging in informal conversation prior to discussing the research. While Herzog (2012: 212) reminds us that ‘no interview takes place in a situation of total neutrality’, the comfort and familiarity afforded by the home environment can help reduce the power imbalance between the research and participant (Bashir, 2018) – an essential consideration for narrative methodology and FANI in particular. Ahad, Louise, Ben, and Glenn were each able to control the rhythm of the interview, revisiting the more difficult parts of their life stories at their own pace. Very little prompting was needed and the transcripts contained pages upon pages of uninterrupted flow. In this sense, it appeared that they were able to follow emotional logic, and in the follow-up interviews I felt comfortable asking them to ‘tell me a little more’ about the life events they had mentioned previously. A field diary excerpt after the second interview with Louise illustrates this well:

[the interview] felt very relaxed and there was time to stand and chat whilst coffee was being made. With [Louise] I felt I could prompt more than with other participants, partially due to being in her home.

The physical space played a fundamental role in shaping the ‘feel’ of these interviews and how I approached prompting. Indeed, as noted by Gangnon et al. (2015), interview location can impact on how easy or difficult it feels to ask and answer questions. There was just one sofa in the room at Louise’s, prompting us to sit together with the Dictaphone on the table in front of us. Naturally, we turned our bodies to face one another and, by the end of the interviews, we were sat with our feet up sipping our tea as we spoke. Whist being of a similar age and the same gender likely helped us to build a rapport (Leverentz, 2023), our physical closeness and body language gave the interview a very casual, intimate feel.

The home environment also provided prompts for storytelling in some instances. It has been noted that ‘the interview situation contributes to the construction of some memories and narratives as being at the centre of the inquiry and to position others at its margins’ (Gemignani, 2014: 131). This means that interview locations themselves set certain constraints and possibilities, shaping the data that is produced within them (Gangnon et al., 2015). Sitting in the living room with a television in our peripheral vision, Louise was prompted to discuss how depictions of shop lifting led to feelings of shame. She explained,

I watch a lot of police programmes [gestures to the TV] and there was one on yesterday, and there was a shop lifter on it, and it still brings that emotion up, and I was thinking, actually, I’m glad my mum isn’t here watching it with me because, if she was here, I would be thinking that she’s thinking ‘oh, that’s [Louise]’. So even still, it’s still coming up, not all the time, but whenever anything like that happens.

This reflection contributed to a key finding of the research – that criminal record stigma management extends beyond disclosure events (e.g. job interviews), manifesting in the everyday lives of PWCRs. While it is impossible to know if this conversation would have occurred in another environment, it is likely that sitting together on the sofa with the television in front of us prompted this discussion. Indeed, being in a home environment enables participants to draw on props and share materials that would not have been accessible if they travelled to another location (Caetano and Mora, 2022).

Professional spaces

Five participants met with me in spaces of either work or study familiar to them – referred to in this article as professional spaces. These spaces were more formal than the home environments but they did provide a similar degree of privacy, and we were able to talk with minimal disruption. Subsequently, these transcripts also contained pages of uninterrupted narrative and were among the longest recorded. Interestingly, the interactions within these professional spaces varied considerably, shaped by the participant’s relationship with the place.

Paul was a master’s student at the time of his interviews, studying, living, and working on his university campus. Having studied his foundation and undergraduate degrees at the same university, Paul was highly familiar with the space, and he booked us a private study room in the university library. While the standardised room was void of any personal items, his comfort with the space gave the interview a natural ease and he spoke in an animated way, laughing out loud, slapping the table, and raising his voice when exclaiming his points. Paul required very little prompting in his interviews, sharing considerable detail on his interactions with the criminal justice system, and his struggles with depression and suicidal thoughts. This indicated to me that space felt safe for Paul, allowing him to share emotionally complex life events through ‘thoughtful conversation’ (see above).

Megan was conducting her own doctoral research at the time of her interviews giving us common interests and a mutual understanding of one another’s working life. She hosted me at her university campus, booking a room in the library which she rarely visited to keep her involvement in the research concealed from colleagues. Subsequently, Megan was in a simultaneously familiar and unfamiliar space, acting as both a host and a participant. She was delicate in her storytelling, choosing when to share and withhold detail. For example, when explaining the context behind her interactions with the criminal justice system, Megan indicated that she had been a victim of crime as a child, resulting in her being placed into foster care. She referred to this as a ‘traumatic period of time’ but chose not to go into detail, simply noting that ‘older men’ and ‘class A drugs’ were involved. In contrast, when talking about how her criminal record had impacted on her life opportunities and sense of self, Megan was deeply reflective and, at times, emotional. Hosting me as a researcher on her own university campus likely shaped Megan’s storytelling, encouraging her to share the information she thought was most useful for my research, while simultaneously withholding more personal details. Indeed, at the end of the interviews she expressed that she hoped the information she had provided would be ‘useful’, and we discussed the difficulties of conducting qualitative research.

Interviews with Kirsty and Simon offer an interesting contrast. Unable to find an affordable, pre-bookable space in her local area, I invited Kirsty to meet me at my university as she was concerned about privacy. Bjørvik et al. (2023: 5) explain that hosting participants on the researchers ‘home turf’ requires careful consideration as it can exacerbate the imbalance between the participant and researcher. To try and minimise this I booked a private study space in the publicly accessible library building instead of a research office, and reimbursed her travel expenses at the start of the interview. However, in my field diary I had noted that it was ‘difficult to build a rapport’ in the first interview, and that there was a ‘sense of mistrust’ between us. I also noted that she repeated herself throughout her storytelling and avoided eye contact, looking down at the table while anxiously playing with her hair. She worked hard in the interview to demonstrate the legitimacy of her narrative, showing me her driving licence, a photo of her at graduation, and Internet printouts pertaining to other criminal cases and medical issues she wanted to discuss with me. Reflecting on why this may be, and how the interview location could have influenced this, there are two key things to consider with Kirsty. First, she revealed in her interviews that she herself had embarked on a doctorate, but reluctantly withdrew due to a lack of support and uncertainty around how her criminal record would impact on her career. The profound impact of this became clear when she expressed that she was ‘grieving for what [she] could have been’, had she not received a criminal record. Second, Kirsty recalled how she felt judged and dismissed by medical professionals and the police when she was experiencing domestic violence, considered an unreliable narrator due to her struggles with alcohol addiction. These revelations were unknown to me prior to the interviews, but they meant that I, a doctoral candidate on a career path unattainable to her, was likely exacerbating the unequal power dynamics of the interview by hosting her at my university.

In contrast, Simon invited me to meet with him on-site at his Community Interest Company (CIC). Simon’s CIC was located in the city he had grown up in and later been forced to leave temporarily as a condition of his prison release. We met at the train station and travelled through the city together, prompting him to point out sites of interest and to talk about his love of the city. In doing so, Simon was welcoming me to his ‘home turf’ (Herzog, 2012) and providing me with contextual information which I later used to engage with his narrative (see below). Upon arrival at his CIC Simon introduced me to his staff, and later gave me a tour of his facilities while discussing his plans for the company. This was a continuation of him welcoming me to his ‘home turf’ and hosting me at his CIC created a unique power dynamic for our interviews. Simon positioned himself the expert, noting that I could learn a lot from his work and suggesting that I contact him for future work opportunities. In his interviews, the location served as a backdrop for Simon to present himself as a professional, credible, and successful entrepreneur – a clear contrast to Kirsty who appeared to struggle to establish herself as a credible narrator. Alongside the influence of the professional space, there was a gendered dynamic to the interview with Simon calling me ‘babe’, further subverting the power dynamic between myself as a researcher, and Simon as a participant (see Lefkowich, 2019; Pini, 2005).

Commercial spaces

Interviews with Rachel, Yasmeen, and Martin, were conducted in commercial spaces open to the public. Rachel and Yasmeen each met with me in hotel chain restaurants in their local areas and we gravitated towards secluded tables. These spaces were more unpredictable than others, providing varying degrees of privacy and comfort as the interviews progressed. For example, the restaurant was relatively empty when Rachel and I met, and we were initially able to find a table away from others. However, as more customers arrived Rachel became hesitant to speak, shifting around in her seat and looking over her shoulder. She glanced across to a nearby family and apologised for ‘speaking a bit too quiet’ for the audio recorder, prompting me to suggest we move outside. While this was necessary for Rachel’s comfort and emotional wellbeing, moving disrupted her storytelling and we only stayed for a short while longer. This impacted her overall narrative as, by her own omission, she had already spent considerable time ‘skirting around’ the more difficult parts of her life story.

Yasmeen and I were also fortunate at the first interview, finding a table tucked around a corner away from other customers. Yasmeen spoke with confidence, counting on her fingers the three key issues she wanted to discuss as we sat down. Having felt comfortable with the space in the first interview she suggested we return for the follow up, but we were disrupted by building work and made an impromptu decision to move to the train station cafe next door. The station was considerably busier and we relocated to different tables as new customers arrived. Yasmeen displayed the same tense body language that Rachel had, and the interview only lasted around 30 minutes – one of the shortest recorded. As we left the café and exited onto an empty street, Yasmeen took my hands and hastily shared what she was not comfortable saying inside the café before rushing off to work. This confirmed to me that the interview location had limited her ability to share important parts of her narrative, potentially leading to shortcomings and misunderstandings in my understanding of her.

Martin’s interviews add further nuance to our understanding of how public spaces influence the sharing of personal narratives. Martin suggested that we meet in his local beer garden and was already sat reading a book when I arrived. Noticing his close proximity to other customers I asked him if he would like to move elsewhere, but Martin insisted that he ‘didn’t care who overheard’ and gestured for me to join him at his table. This was surprising as he had already told me that he had served two custodial sentences, and I was apprehensive meeting in a public space after the interviews with Rachel and Yasmeen. However, Martin spoke with confidence, displaying similar body language to Paul (see above) and speaking in an animated way. His accounts were detailed, and he reflected on the impact of being labelled ‘a violent ex-con’ and subsequently never being able to ‘reach his potential’. People can develop personal attachments to different places over time (Bailey et al., 2016), and even public spaces can become ‘meaningful location(s)’ providing people with comfort and familiarity (Cresswell, 2015: 12). Martin repeatedly referred to the town itself as ‘home’, noting that he was always ‘drawn back to’ the area despite several attempts to relocate elsewhere. Subsequently, while I experienced the location as an open public space, Martin was hosting me on his ‘home turf’, allowing him to speak openly about his life experiences as other customers came and went.

The contrast between Martin’s interview and those of Rachel and Yasmeen problematises the distinction between ‘private’ and ‘public’ spaces often discussed in research methods literature (see Jenner and Myers, 2019). Nonetheless, other factors which shape participant storytelling must also be considered. To varying degrees, Rachel and Yasmeen each explained how their interactions with the criminal justice system were linked to past experiences of trauma and victimisation. It is widely recognised that interviews can be re-traumatising for participants (Rutter, 2024; Todd-Kvam and Goyes, 2023), and research has shown that women are more likely to experience and internalise stigma when compared to male counterparts, even when they have committed similar offences (Barlow, 2015; Grace, 2022; Worrall, 1990). While I gave participants the opportunity to choose where to meet out of consideration for their privacy, this conversation was largely framed around logistical considerations rather than how the interview location may support their emotional needs when storytelling. As demonstrated above, it was clear that the interview spaces used for Rachel and Yasmeen did not adequately provide a sense of safety for them to share their life experiences. ¹ This is problematic, and literature on trauma-informed practice emphasises the importance of emotionally and psychologically safe environments which help support trust-based relationships (Covington, 2014, 2016; Rutter and Eden-Barnard, 2022).

Discussion

Thus far, this article has provided a detailed account of how different interview locations shaped the storytelling interaction between myself and the participant, and has alluded to some of the ways this contributed to the overall research findings. This discussion will now outline the two main ways in which location played a generative role in the knowledge produced by this research. First, it will demonstrate how some interview locations facilitated the sharing of rich, nuanced life stories, and provided environmental stimuli to enrich my understanding of participant narratives. Second, it will illustrate how being situated in different social spaces during their storytelling prompting the construction of spatially specific narrative identities.

Meaningful locations and narrative depth

Participants who hosted me in home spaces went into considerable detail when recalling the life events and circumstances that led up to their interactions with the criminal justice system. This included vivid descriptions of childhood neglect, bullying and self-harm, physical and emotional domestic abuse, and struggles with alcohol addiction. It has been argued that home spaces in particular help to reduce power dynamics, facilitate trust-based conversations, and help people to discuss more personal and intimate aspects of their lives (Bashir, 2018; Bjørvik et al., 2023; Caetano and Mora, 2022; Pink, 2004). The narrative accounts of Martin and Simon (see above) add further complexity to this, illustrating how public and professional spaces with meaning can also shape power dynamics and facilitate ‘thoughtful conversation’ (Frosh and Young, 2008: 119). This is important for narrative researchers – particularly those using FANI – as the ability for participants to share their life stories is a key methodological and ethical concern. Overall, the detailed accounts elicited in subjectively ‘meaningful’ environments (Cresswell, 2015: 12) helped me to understand the varying degrees of agency participants attributed to themselves at different points of their life course, the discourses and techniques of neutralisation they invested in, and the moral frameworks within which they made sense of their lives.

Such meaningful locations also aided me when engaging with the inherently contradictory elements of participant narratives, helping me to understand participants as complex individuals who adopt a range of identities, behaviours, and rationales. Indeed, Quinney et al. (2016) highlight that the creation of thick, rich, qualitative data is highly influenced by the space in which the interview is conducted. Glenn was a self-proclaimed ‘professional burglar’ who admitted to using ‘considerable violence’ in the past. However, sat in his living room, we laughed together as he reminisced on the humorous ‘cat and mouse’ between him and the police, and held the silence together when he spoke about the devastating loss of his partner. Like Louise (see above), he used his home environment as a prompt, gesturing to his book collection as he discussed his love of literature, and turning my attention to the plants and decorative features in his home when talking about his love of art and nature. This allowed me to develop a more nuanced understanding of Glenn, and the distinction he made between himself – a professional burglar who used violence as a last resort – and modern day ‘petty criminals’ who ‘have no respect’ and enjoy using violence. I was able to avoid reducing Glenn to a singular identity and, having engaged with literature on the intersection between entrepreneurialism and criminality (see Hobbs, 1988; Smith, 2013), I presented him in my research as a self-aware, business-like offender who operated within his own moral framework, but was aware of the harm he had caused.

Finally, how participants engaged with the interview space gave insight into their stigma management and disclosure strategies. While participants were able to carefully consider their participation in the research, the interview itself resembled a criminal record disclosure interaction – something many participants actively avoided in their everyday lives. Indeed, Megan explained that she would often self-exclude from legitimate opportunities if they involved criminal record disclosure, fearing judgement and discrimination. Her choice to meet me in the library to conceal her participation from colleagues was an example of this, and it prompted me to consider the use of space as a mechanism of stigma management. Similarly, Louise noted that she had arranged her interviews for when her mother and partner would be busy, enabling her to conceal her involvement in the research from them. This, alongside her discussion of depictions of shoplifting (see above), revealed how Louise’s stigma management revolved around ensuring those closest to her were not reminded of her past.

The crafting of spatially specific narrative identities

In many cases, there was a notable relationship between the nature of the interview location and the narrative identities constructed by participants. As explained at the start of this article, when constructing narratives people position themselves as ‘the protagonist in an evolving story’ (Presser, 2009; cited in Fleetwood, 2016: 175). However, this positioning of self is fluid and dynamic, and Elwood and Martin (2000) explain that people speak from different perspectives depending on where the interview takes place. Similarly, Cresswell (2015: 71) argues that place provides a ‘stage for performance’ for the construction of identity. Subsequently, different locations facilitate insight into different aspects of a participant’s personality and life experiences (Leverentz, 2023). As noted by Herzog (2012), when interviewed in the home the participant is placed in the context of their family and local community. Indeed, participants who hosted me in their homes tended to construct identities around familial roles, prompted by their immediate environment. For example, while Ahad took pride in his professional life and discussed his career as a ‘well-respected’ health and safety officer, his identity as a grandparent dominated his interviews. Ahad walked me around his garden which had been professionally landscaped into a play area for his grandchildren, enthusiastically pointing out where his newly purchased trampoline and climbing frame were going to go. Ahad’s home environment provided a setting for ‘the enactment of self’ helping him to construct and convey his identity in the interview (Hurdley, 2006: 718). Without this spatially specific interaction, it is likely I would not have appreciated the significance of him being unable to take his grandchildren to Disneyland in America, and could have underestimated how his criminal record infringed on his participation in family life. Ahad himself made the connection between his home environment, not being able to take his grandchildren to Disneyland, and his ability to fulfil his role as a grandparent:

I really wanted to take [her] I mean, can you imagine how much I love my granddaughter, and how much I’ve been dying to take her to Disneyland? You know, oh so much. I mean, if you look at our house I mean, that’s just a little bit [nodding towards a collection of toys in the corner of the room] when I take you outside and I show you what I’ve had done for her, you’ll beggar belief. You’ll think bloody hell, I don’t remember any grandparent doing this for their grand kids.

This depth and nuance was ascertained by interviewing Ahad in his home – a space of significant meaning (Hurdley, 2006) which contained biographically meaningful objects Reckwitz, 2002). As noted by Bjørvik et al. (2023: 4) when conducting interviews in private homes the researcher can gain insight into the lives of participants, providing ‘additional and contextualizing knowledge’.

In contrast, participants who met with me in professional spaces tended to focus their narratives on their working lives, and their narrative identities revolved around the construction of a law-abiding professional self. Gangnon et al. (2015) note that workplace interviews may encourage people to tell stories related to their employment rather than social or personal events. Indeed, their ‘stage for performance’ (Cresswell, 2015: 71) is a professional one. Sitting in the boardroom on-site at his CIC, Simon focussed on his role as a professional when constructing his narrative identity, only sharing minimal detail on his family and personal life. Rather than construct a narrative identity which was fundamentally different to that conveyed by his criminal record, Simon explained that the same skills that once helped him with his ‘criminal enterprise’ now helped him to run his CIC. He positioned himself as having ‘made good’ from his past (Maruna, 2001), returning to the city where he was once a prolific offender to support vulnerable people via his CIC. The influence of gender was also notable in Simon’s narrative, with him invested in highly gendered discourse regarding criminality and entrepreneurialism (Gottschalk, 2019; Seet et al., 2008).

While this article has focused on face-to-face interactions, it is important to acknowledge the shift towards online interviewing in the social sciences. Digital techniques alter the interaction between participant and researcher, shaping power and relational dynamics, and presenting different considerations for emotional safety and storytelling. Digital techniques also alter what is observable to the researcher (e.g. a participant’s use of spatially specific prompts) depending on the platform used, quality of the hardware, and background visibility. This presents different considerations for interacting with and listening to participants, and for interpreting narratives and presenting their accounts in research findings (see, for example, Johannessen et al., 2025; O’Quinn et al., 2024; Weller, 2017).

Conclusion

This article has demonstrated how the material qualities of different spaces, and the participants’ relationships with different places, shape the storytelling interaction within interviews and encourage the construction of spatially specific narrative identities. It has demonstrated how different locations facilitate or hinder thoughtful conversation, ultimately shaping the researcher’s understanding of participants and how they are later portrayed in research findings. The contribution of this for qualitative researchers in the social sciences is twofold. First, conceptualising interview location as part of the methodological and analytical process enables the researcher to take seriously its role in the production of knowledge, contributing to the overall transparency and rigour of the research. Second, conceptualising participant safety in different spaces as having emotional and psychological dimensions enhances ethical practice for narrative work in particular. Indeed, as the article has demonstrated, safety is not just physical, it is emotional and relational, influenced by how participants feel in, and relate to, different interview locations. It is hoped that this article provides a compelling argument and detailed exemplar to help inform other qualitative researchers in the social sciences.