In fiction (as implemented in literature, film, theatre, etc.) an unreliable narrator (a term coined by Wayne C. Booth in his 1961 book The Rhetoric of Fiction) is a narrator whose credibility has been seriously compromised. This unreliability can be due to psychological instability, a powerful bias, a lack of knowledge, or even a deliberate attempt to deceive the reader or audience.

This Unreliable Narrator (Jen) likes the idea of technology existing in nature. You know, like cell phone towers on forested mountaintops and that kind of thing; it’s probably because they glow at night. She likes glitter, confetti, and the color pink. Jen's into pears and okay with sequels but unsure of trilogies. She likes people who fulfill all those cliches you read in books – people who toss their heads back when they laugh, who can purse their lips and look determined and not just pissed off, who can be nonchalant without counting to ten and taking a deep breath first. She thinks tall, skinny, dark haired men are attractive, thereby making her unable to breathe and look at Adrian Brody at the same time. But then Tom Hiddleston happened, so just between you and me, she's going through a real tough time. For the moment, Jen lives in Nashville, TN.

They say we Southerners live in the past. That, they say, is our problem; the past is dead, Faulkner or no Faulkner. I guess I could try to explain, to tell them that for us memory is not an inventory, not a catalog of events, but a time machine. It lifts us off the dull treadmill of grown-up responsibilities to a time of adventure and wonder. The past is not dead, and so the dead are never really gone. We resurrect them, daily, for one more story, one more buck dance or ball game, or one more cast into the cool water.
— Rick Bragg