Storystorm

I had a professor once who said that the second person rarely works as a narrative device.

I think it's important to remember here that much of what professors, other writers, our peers, and even blog post writers say about narrative, stylistic, and formal techniques is largely subjective, so take this for what you will.

But say it she did, going on to explain that the second person narrative often takes the reader out of that sublime state of believing and makes them too aware of what the writer is up to. It's a valid complaint. When done poorly, the second person can leave you with more questions than it answers. If the first line of a story, for instance, implicates the reader (“You are the bearded lady in a circus side show,” for instance), about 99.99999999% of your audience is going to pull back and say, “Um no, actually, I'm not.”

This sort of thing can make the second person a little sticky.

Personally, I love the second person when done effectively. But the times when it seems the most effective to me is when it is used as a spin on its traditional use—in a romantic address or elegy.

Lydia Peelle's “Sweethearts of the Rodeo” is a perfect example of how the second person can be more than a crafty, writerly trick, in this case by emphasizing the connection between the two main characters. The two unnamed and adolescent girls in the story—the “you” and the “I”—find themselves in a precarious situation, left to their own devices at a horse farm during the week with little to no adult supervision. What initially reads as a wild and liberating circumstance for these girls to be in is revealed to be one in which sexual, emotional, and physical harm is constantly lurking.

The use of the second person in this case seems particularly appropriate. It is a variation on the romantic address: one girl talking to her best friend. But had it been in the first or third person, the immensity of their love for and reliance on each other at this time in their lives wouldn't have come through as clearly.

In an episode of Girls, Hannah Horvath writes on an otherwise empty Word document, “a friendship between college girls is grander and more dramatic than any romance.” And it's true: when we are alone and in times of struggle, we rely on our friends to take care of us, to nurture us, to protect us. The friendships formed between the girls in this story—specifically because they, like college girls, are isolated and struggling to make sense of themselves and their surroundings—is more complex and concrete than any romance. To say that they are simply friends is too simplistic. The “sweethearts” in the title of the story gets closer to the true tune of their relationship, but it is the second person perspective that makes it clear: it is a romance, one full of love and affection, or protection and caring.

"Sweethearts of the Rodeo" is the third story in Lydia Peelle's collection Reasons for and Advantages of Breathing.