"... 'more and more impossible in our modern democratic society.' The ascendancy of science, Wilson argued, had made human beings less prone to viewing themselves as potentially godlike geniuses and more uncomfortably aware of their kinship with other animals and subjection to biological and physical laws. A democratic society was also less at ease with the idea of a 'natural aristocracy' of artists to match the hereditary aristocracy of landowners and rulers.... The prevalent idea in the 21st century is not that nobody is a genius but that everybody is — at least potentially.... That way of thinking is incompatible with the recognition of genius which requires humility, the awed acknowledgment that somebody is unfathomably better at something than you are. We prefer not to confront this uncomfortable fact, hence the extraordinary cultural premium currently placed on 'relatability.' A literary agent recently remarked to me that this has become one of the most sought after qualities in new novels. Not only do readers like to have their experiences reflected back at them but the gap between talented novelist and untalented reader must seem as flatteringly, reassuringly narrow as possible."
"Relatability" — referring to that emotional quality — is a pretty recent word. So is "relatable." Thinking about this is reminding of how common it used to be — when was this? 70s? 60? — to say "I can relate."
Here's a NYT "On Language" column from 2010,
"The Origins of ‘Relatable’" by Ben Zimmer. A teacher had written in to say that she'd "noticed among my students a growing use of the word 'relatable,' as in 'I like Sarah Palin. She's relatable' (meaning, 'I can relate to her')." The teacher declared it "odd" and wanted to know where that came from: