As veiled first person, “you” is tied up with the ego or with troubles in a character’s relationship with herself. In Jay McInerney’s Bright Lights, Big City, the second person has an accusatory feel, as it narrates the self-destruction of its protagonist and implicates the reader at the same time. In Lorrie Moore’s Self Help, for example, the second person is cast in the imperative, taking the form of flawed instruction, crafting a warm-humored, self-deprecating parody of popular texts that purport to make living easier.
The pronoun “you” has often been used in fiction as a veiled first person, foregrounding a main character’s insecurity by putting the self at arm’s length. Or “you” could be specific to one of the story’s characters. “You” could be a single person, or many people, or could change over the course of a story.
When I encounter direct address in fiction, my first assumption is that the “you” is me-that the narrator uses the second person to create kinship with the “dear reader.” But on a deeper look, the second person has more potential for complexity.
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