A Literary Study of Unreliable Narrators

On what makes an unreliable narrator and noteable examples

Unreliability is a known feature, not a flaw. And while I often fall victim to these narrators' traps (or the author's talent), I still find myself seeking these narratives more and more.

Anything written in the first person carries a whiff of suspicion. That “I” we trust so easily is always a little slippery, a little too eager to explain itself. Even if the narrator themself is not categorically unreliable, there will still be some omission or bias in their version of the story. Even the most earnest confessions are curated. A character’s interiority is not a clear window; it’s a mirror, maybe even a funhouse one.

But of course there are those who control their narrative. Think of The Bell Jar, The Catcher in the Rye, Atonement, My Dark Vanessa, Notes from Underground. These aren’t just stories told by people with perspectives; they’re performances of truth. Narrators like these don’t just misremember or withhold—they spin. They rewrite. Sometimes, they believe their own stories.

Substack will also feature unreliable narrators, it’s not just fictional characters that use these mechanisms. I think this is important to remember when reading anything.

Here, we write in the first person constantly. We essay our way through big ideas, small observations, heartbreaks, cultural takes. We tell stories of our lives with authority—and sometimes vulnerability—but it's always our version. That doesn’t make it false. It just makes it human.

There’s power in choosing what to reveal and what to leave out. In how we frame the antagonist (if there even is one). In how we cast ourselves—hero, victim, witness, sage.

So maybe we’re all unreliable narrators. But that doesn’t mean we’re not telling the truth. We’re just telling our preferred version of the story. Like I’m going to tell you some of my favourite unreliable narrators (although I detest some of them with my whole heart):

Atonement by Ian McEwan

Briony is perhaps the quintessential unreliable narrator—not because she lies outright, but because she authors reality, literally. When I finished the end of Atonement I was fuming. Absolutely fuming. I hated this book. Then I refound it a couple years later, a more experienced reader, a devoted McEwan fan. Now this is my most owned book and most annotated. It’s pure genius.

In the novel Briony recounts the events of a tragic summer in her youth, when her misinterpretation and overactive imagination lead to a devastating accusation. The kicker? The novel’s ending reveals that the story we’ve been told has been edited, softened, and reshaped by Briony herself. Her narration isn’t a confession—it’s a form of atonement. She's not just narrating; she's curating memory, morality, and guilt into something more palatable than the truth.

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

Holden is raw, reactive, and emotionally unstable. He may be toxic but as teenagers we cannot help but love him. His unreliability stems from his age, trauma, and deep mistrust of the adult world. He filters everything through a lens of cynicism, calling people “phony” while often being disingenuous himself. He withholds facts, contradicts himself, and frequently spirals into digressions that mask deeper pain. The effect? You start to care not because he’s honest, but because he’s so unfiltered in his dishonesty—it reveals more than the truth would.

Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier

This was one of the narrators that I was not fooled by, however I was uneasy. The power of Rebecca lies in the contrast between what the narrator thinks is happening and what’s actually unfolding around her. She’s so intimidated by the lingering presence of Rebecca and so insecure in her own role as Maxim’s new wife that she misreads nearly everyone. Her narration is colored by jealousy and self-doubt, which means we see the story unfold through a fog of assumptions. She's not malicious—just deeply inexperienced, which makes her revelations all the more jarring when the truth starts to surface.

Life of Pi by Yann Martel

Another one that had me fooled and my jaw on the ground. The heart of Life of Pi is the question: what story do you choose to believe? Pi tells two versions of his ordeal—the fantastical one with the tiger, and a bleaker, more plausible one with human violence and cannibalism. He asks the reader to pick the version “that’s the better story.” This is unreliability as artful deflection: Pi invites you to consider truth as a choice, as something narrative can shape or soften. It’s not just about facts—it’s about belief, survival, and storytelling as meaning-making.

The Remains of the Day by Kazuo Ishiguro

Stevens in The Remains of the Day is a masterclass in self-delusion. His narration is polite, precise, and emotionally muted—until you start to notice what’s not being said. He speaks in service of dignity and duty, but the gaps in his account reveal missed opportunities, buried feelings, and quiet complicity in moral failures. His unreliability stems from repression: he cannot admit his regrets, even to himself. As the narrative unspools, readers piece together the life Stevens has chosen not to confront—making him tragically transparent in his restraint.

Bunny by Mona Awad

To this day I am not quite sure what actually happened in this novel. Samantha is in the throes of intense alienation and possibly a mental breakdown, and the narrative slips quickly into the surreal. Is what she’s seeing real? Is the cult-like Bunny clique truly supernatural—or is this a dark metaphor for creative burnout, isolation, and rage? The novel blurs the lines between psychological horror and satire, making Samantha a narrator whose grasp on reality is unstable at best. Her perceptions are deeply unreliable, and yet emotionally resonant. You might not trust her facts—but you believe her feelings.

These are just some clearcut examples of unreliable narrators but as I said, don’t trust a lot of those narrators in novels.

My newsletters are all free to read (I gave up making them paid because I want everyone to read everything!) But please considering supporting a struggling 9-5 girl with just one iced latte!