The problem with unreliable narrators — and the thing that makes them so delightful to read in fiction — is that by design, you never quite know when they are telling the truth. Which makes it a stunningly poor choice of conventions to employ when writing about sexual assault, a crime that victims are often accused of fabricating, either wholesale or in parts.
Over at Salon, Erin Keane writes about why Lena Dunham may have made a mistake in declaring herself an “unreliable translator” in the chapter of her memoir dealing with sexual violence.
