UNRELIABLE NARRATORS....
I'm sure I've mentioned the fact that I live in a log cabin on an acre of lush greenery up in the Dandenong Ranges. The lawn slopes softly, paths meander around well tended garden beds. We wake to the gentle call of birdsong and a gentle breeze. Well that's the idea, the concept I aim for. Not the continual battle with weeds and grass (so NOT a lawn) and I WISH our lawn sloped gently. It would make mowing so much easier. I love the unreliable narrator. Writers ( think Edgar Allan Poe - The Tell Tale Heart ) who tell a tale from the POV of a narrator that we, the reader, come to doubt. At the beginning we are taken along for the ride, we believe what we are being told, we have no choice. Then we realise that things are all not what they appear to be. Agatha Christie did it with The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (to shouts of UNFAIR), she then did it again with Endless Night (one of my personal favourites- thanks Mum) And I must admit one of my all time favourite m...