The Allure Of The Unreliable Narrator (& Why I Couldn't Resist)

Note: This blog was first posted on March 28th, 2015.

Everyone has a moment when the world breaks. At its core, life is about perception. Veils lift, and an accepted truth transforms into nothing more than illusion. Those times are chaotic, even brutal, but in a way, freeing. Fiction-wise, a truly great unreliable narrator evokes a similar sensation in the reader.

Life is full of liars (even unwitting ones). Who hasn’t listened to a fabricated version of events from a friend who forgot you were at the party/dinner they’re describing? Narrative distortion, textually or otherwise, is endlessly fascinating. I’m not the only one who thinks so: #unreliablenarrator appeared on my social media feed repeatedly while this blog was coming together.

For those unfamiliar with the idea, at its core an unreliable narrator is pretty much what it sounds like: a narrator who, by the end of the novel, you realize cannot be trusted in some way. And it seems, in the fictional world at least, we’ll never tire of people who can’t be trusted.

What makes the unreliable narrator such a powerful tool is our tendency to blindly trust in the perspective of the storyteller; readers invariably become invested in the protagonist (who is more often than not the unreliable narrator). Not even consciously choosing to place our faith in said character, we just assume the person steering the story is telling the truth. In a way, on some level, the narrator and the reader merge: after all, they’re our gateway to the experience. Who else would we trust?

Gone Girl is a recent example of this type of storytelling, as is Life of Pi. For many, Fight Club was a one-two knockout introduction to the wonder of an unreliable narrator. My eye-opening (or should that be mind-opening?) reading experience was A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick.

To say I was blown away by the reveal in that book would be an understatement. (Maybe I should say spoiler alert, but come on, ASD was written in the seventies!) The novel reveals drug user Bob Archer is also Agent Fred working undercover in narcotics. Substance D has screwed with his brain so badly he’s completely unaware he’s living a double life, to the point where the protagonist investigates himself without knowing it.

For me, Bob/Fred will always be the ultimate unreliable narrator.

Before A Scanner Darkly, manipulating conventional literary expectations to mess with the reader had never occurred to me. The novel opened my mind to the possibilities fiction offers when you’re both (narratively) brave, and clever enough to pull off a wild idea. Challengingly left of field, the novel imprinted deeply on my psyche, forcing me to re-evaluate my entire understanding of fiction, and  inspiring a lifelong hunt for “unusual” novels that would expand my (mental) horizons.

Safe to say, as a teenage reader, it changed the fiction I was exposed to, and as a writer, it changed the direction/style of my prose. Looking back, I don’t think it’s a coincidence my favorite Charles De Lint novel at university was Memory and Dream: once again, a story with a beautifully conceived unreliable narrator at the centre.

No surprise, then, that my novel Sound has an unreliable narrator. I’m proud of the book, and glad I tackled a literary trope that has always enthralled me, but creating the lead character was harder than expected. Turns out, from the other end of the spectrum (writer rather than reader), the unreliable narrator messes with your head just as effectively.

Think about it: you’re writing a story with knowledge about the narrator the reader doesn’t have, and isn’t supposed to have, until late in the game. The character has to feel true, but post-reveal, in retrospect, the inferred “truth” has to feel believably unreliable. No simple task.

Some would argue the best way to work this trope is to use a storyline that seems obvious (in some sense) from the outset. I didn’t do this. Fiction in a futuristic setting that sweeps the reader along and isn’t overly expositional is my preference, but that’s a stylistic choice; whether it works in conjunction with an unreliable narrator, well that’s the reader’s call.

To compensate, I did plant a smattering of clues throughout, ensuring the narrator (and therefore the reader) was imbued with a growing sense of unease. I think it’s important the person following the story is already a little unsettled when the unreliable narrator element becomes obvious. I played with a distorted perception of reality in more ways than one in my novel, which probably adds to the jarring impact; maybe that’s ambitious, but it’s the kind of fiction I like.*

To segue: Finishing a blog with tunes I’ve been listening to while writing is my favorite way to sign off. New artist Ty is my current musical preference. Tracks of electronic origin that feel organic, lyrics that feel like poetry. You sense layers and emotions, shadows and slivers of light; music sourced internally that makes my own potential wake up and flow onto the page (in word form). This is a demo, with the album still to come, but the track Bubbleguns is my go-to song so far. http://www.tysmusic.com/

*On a side note: If you’re into novels with an unreliable narrator, I recommend Memoirs OF A Master Forger. The author is listed as William Heaney, the name of the protagonist, but it’s actually written by Graham Joyce. One of the few novels I’ve read in the last couple of years that managed to echo the sudden sense of confusion I felt when reading A Scanner Darkly. The character of Heaney isn’t as extreme an example as Archer, but you still feel sucker punched in that moment where it’s revealed what you believe to be true is in fact a misrepresentation, and it’s beautifully done.

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