{"id":4323,"date":"2012-10-02T06:00:28","date_gmt":"2012-10-02T10:00:28","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.allandouglas.com\/blog\/?p=4323"},"modified":"2025-04-21T01:56:41","modified_gmt":"2025-04-21T05:56:41","slug":"second-person-bully","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/second-person-bully\/","title":{"rendered":"Difficult Voices: Second Person in Fiction – Bully"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>Second Person as a writing voice is quite common in non-fiction, particularly instructive non-fiction: \u201cFirst you do this, then you do that, make sure you haven\u2019t forgotten to lock down the sniggletharp.\u201d\u00a0 Sometimes the \u2018you\u2019 is implied, \u201cInsert tab A into slot B and twist to lock\u201d. \u00a0But second person, though uncommon, can also be used in fiction and can be used quite effectively.<\/p>\n

In first person, the reader may choose to become the character or may simply \u2018listen\u2019; \u201cI noticed my shoe was untied and crouched to remedy the situation just as something whizzed close over my head.\u00a0 Had I been standing just then it would have caught me across my chest.\u201d The reader may interpret that statement as being the character or may accept it as though sitting across the table from a friend, each with a cup of coffee as he tells about an adventure.<\/p>\n

Third person is a detached view, but far more versatile, \u201cDudley noticed his shoe was untied and stooped to remedy the situation just as the length of pipe flew across the room.\u00a0 Had he still been standing, it would have caught him in the chest. Snydley snarled as the pipe missed its target, ‘Curses, foiled again.'”<\/p>\n

When used in fiction, second person forces the reader to become quite intimate with the story and its main character, for the reader has no choice but to identify with the POV character. \u00a0Unlike first person, the reader has no escape route.\u00a0 This can make for a very powerful reading experience \u2013 perhaps too powerful.\u00a0 The reader may not want to identify with the protagonist and the situation he or she is in, but lacks the escape avenue of first person.<\/p>\n

As such, second person is, generally speaking, best reserved for short fiction.\u00a0 Rarely is a look-length work done in second person able to become popular.\u00a0 Editors often have reservations about a book done in second person even before reading the manuscript because it often seems too \u201cgimmicky\u201d.\u00a0 But, when used properly, it can tell a powerful story.\u00a0 Perhaps the best known novel written entirely in second person is Jay McInerney\u2019s Bright Lights, Big City<\/em> which begins with:<\/p>\n

\u201cYou are not the kind of guy who would be at a place like this at this time of the morning. But here you are and you cannot say that the terrain is entirely unfamiliar, although the details are fuzzy.\u201d<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Second person uses the pronoun \u201cyou\u201d to place the reader at the center of the story and generally is written in present tense in heighten the immediacy of the action.\u00a0 The short story below was written as an exercise\/example of my point. I think you will see what I mean.\u00a0 You, as reader, may choose to endure it for a while, but if you knew you had another 300 pages to go, you might not persevere.<\/p>\n

BULLY<\/h1>\n

Murden and his goons have you surrounded. A crowd is gathering: drawn by \u201cthe blood in the water\u201d. \u00a0They know a fight is imminent.\u00a0 Some of the faces show concern: you\u2019re half Murden\u2019s size, they\u2019ve seen you around school, they know you to be quiet, bright, polite. Others show only anticipation: you\u2019re about to get pasted and they\u2019re going to be entertained by it.<\/p>\n

One of the goons shoves you. Stumbling sideways you fall against the chest of another goon, who shoves you away toward another.\u00a0 They toss you around the circle. Fear rises, you know what\u2019s going to happen, what always happens and you hate this; you absolutely hate this. Your heart pounds, breath comes in short, ragged snatches and you search for an avenue of escape. Not caring if others think you\u2019re a coward for wriggling out and running away, it\u2019s better than what you know is going to happen. The goons jeer, \u201cC\u2019mon, dweeb, what are ya gonna do; cry?\u201d<\/p>\n

A hand slaps the side of your head. Glasses fly off but you barely notice. Your vision goes to spangly blackness for a moment. You stumble and are allowed to fall to hands and knees. Tears well in your eyes, you hate this, you really hate this!<\/p>\n

The sparkly blackness and pain of impact changes to hazy red as adrenaline flows. The doctors say way too much adrenaline for your body size. \u00a0Reason slips away and hides in the back of your skull and something else takes over; something animal, something vicious. Something over which you have no control.<\/p>\n

You rear back up, fists balling, and turn to face your attacker.\u00a0 It\u2019s Murden.\u00a0 He looms, a grinning mountain, thinking he\u2019s won. He always wins; he\u2019s Murden. No one messes with Murden. But he\u2019s wrong \u2013 this time.<\/p>\n

Everything happens in slow motion for you now. You leap up, wrap legs around his waist and your arms beat out a staccato rhythm. Arms deemed scrawny and weak by others are turned powerful by hormones and deceptively wiry muscles. Left, right, left, right, your fists smash into Murden\u2019s face. Flesh crushes and splits, blood flows.\u00a0 His eyes now go wide in surprise and terror.\u00a0 He falls over backward and you ride him down, continuing to pummel him. Blood spattering. His head hits the floor with a hollow thud.<\/p>\n

Someone grabs your arm and jerks you around. You plant your feet, use your legs and your arm to drive your right fist up under his rib cage, his eyes go round as his breath is driven out of him with a \u201cwhoof\u201d: he falls to the floor, on his side, and stays there clutching his belly, moaning.<\/p>\n

A fist is coming at you, your left arm snaps upward, forearm hits forearm, deflecting the blow as your right arm fires a punch to his jaw.\u00a0 His eye\u2019s roll back in his head and he crumples like a house of cards.<\/p>\n

The others are backing away now, eyes like saucers as realization sets in.\u00a0 The bullies; so brave and confident when they believe they have the advantage are bewildered now. Fear is a stink on them as they try to press back into the crowd and hide.<\/p>\n

The crowd is still trying to assess what just happened.\u00a0 Only a few ticks of the clock have passed and everything changed.<\/p>\n

A hole opens in the crowd and you bolt through it.\u00a0 They step away and let you whiz by.<\/p>\n

*****<\/p>\n

When normal consciousness returns, you are in the weight room of the gym, leg-pressing 300 pounds. It gets harder and harder as the adrenaline wears off until you can no longer budge the pedals.\u00a0 You\u2019re trembling, almost vibrating, sweaty and sick to your stomach.\u00a0 You don\u2019t remember the fight, but you know there has been a fight.\u00a0 You will learn about it in a while.<\/p>\n

A girl slips through the door and cautiously approaches. You\u2019ve seen her around.\u00a0 She\u2019s pretty and popular, but she\u2019s never given you so much as a glance. Her face a mixture of wariness and awe, she approaches slowly, comes just close enough, but poised to run.\u00a0 She extends her arm. In her hand are your glasses. You can just reach her hand.\u00a0 You accept them with a grateful nod.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow did you DO that? She asks quietly.\u201d<\/p>\n

You can\u2019t speak yet, you\u2019re shaking too hard, so you just shrug.<\/p>\n

She nods, turns and exits the room, tossing a curious glance back at you as she leaves.<\/p>\n

You are relieved to see that your wire-frames are not broken, just bent.\u00a0 As the trembling eases you work at straightening them.<\/p>\n

Three of the goons step through the door, but just barely through the door.\u00a0 One points at you, \u201cIf you EVER do anything like that again, we\u2019re gonna kick your ass!\u201d then quickly slip back out the door and disappear.<\/p>\n

You chuckle, in spite of yourself, \u201cYeah, right.\u201d<\/p>\n

You\u2019ll have no trouble out of these guys \u2013 or anyone else \u2013 for the rest of this year.\u00a0 Over the summer your father will be transferred to another base and you\u2019ll start over in another school.\u00a0 Every year a different school, every year a different set of bullies. But bullies are the same everywhere you go. Scared little boys in big bodies, trying to command respect and loyalty through intimidation. Because you are small and appear weak, they will target you early.\u00a0 You will escape them as long as possible, but eventually they will force you to fight.\u00a0 And someone will get hurt.\u00a0 But it won\u2019t be you.\u00a0 And you hate hurting people. You just hate it.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Second Person as a writing voice is quite common in non-fiction, particularly instructive non-fiction: “First you do this, then you do that, make sure you haven’t forgotten to lock down the sniggletharp.”  Sometimes the ‘you’ is implied, “Insert tab A into slot B and twist to lock”.  But second person, though uncommon, can also be … Continue reading “Difficult Voices: Second Person in Fiction – Bully”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[10],"tags":[28,29],"class_list":["post-4323","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-tools","tag-fiction","tag-writing"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4323","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4323"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4323\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":19179,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4323\/revisions\/19179"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4323"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4323"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/pineymountainfoster.org\/thoughts\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4323"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}