Who is the narrator, can she or he read minds, and, more importantly, can we trust her or him?
First Person (Central Narrator)
Our story is told, by necessity, in the first person. Otherwise it'd be a pretty weird diary. Plus, this up-close-and-personal dynamic is great for those times when Alice's interior monologue is compelling, like her angst about a pregnancy scare or her recollection of an LSD trip. For instance:
Then I noticed the strange shifting patterns on the ceiling. Bill pulled me down and my head rested in his lap as I watched the pattern change to swirling colors, great fields of reds, blues and yellows. I tried to share the beauty with the others, but my words came out soggy, wet and dripping or tasting of color. (45.8)
The disadvantage to this narration style, though, is that when Alice is the most out of it, we are expected to believe she still takes the time to write in her diary. For example, if you ran away while high and all you thought to bring with you was twenty dollars from your dad's pocket and the clothes on your back, do you think your diary would have somehow wound up on the packing list? We don't think so. Nor do we believe you would have taken the time to sit down, find a pen, and write this:
I haven't any clothes except these I had on when I left home and I'm getting so damned dirty I think they've grown on me. (149)
In other words, as much as the first-personal narration style is designed to foster intimacy and the sense that we are truly glimpsing the world of young girl gone wrong, the narration choice also accidentally raises red flags about the authenticity of the book as a diary. Oops.