Note:
I recommend reading the previous post first. It's alright if you don't follow the story, you can ignore the plot and glean the literary ideas discussed instead.
How often you see the second-person point of view in a narrative? Very seldom. Almost every narrative puts you in the seat of either a first-person or a third-person observer. This is understandable -- if you have read some of second-person narrated works, you get this peculiar feeling, which is very different from those evoked by the other two points of view. My former English teacher assured me that we would not get a second-person narrative in our unseen prose -- it is an indication that the literary effect is quite special and takes up much discussion by itself.
Let's recapitulate the other points of view first.
First, it's important to point out the existence of the narrator, the voice that tells the story. This sounds trivial and obvious, but sometimes the narrator and the character may get very difficult to distinguish.
In first-person narrative, the reader is inside the main character's head. We see, hear, taste, smell, feel -- through the character's senses. His thoughts and feelings are accessible to us. The narrator and the character can be said as one and the same person. You can see some ramifications of a person inside another: you may not agree with what the character is thinking; given what the character sees, you may understand more what's happening. The example of the latter is Mark Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, in which Huck is a naïve narrator; he is still a child. The mature reader would understand more than Huck does. This disparity in knowledge creates dramatic irony -- in which one of the effects is that we feel for Huck because of his innocent ways of thinking.
On the other hand, if you are inside somebody's head, you can understand him or her better. The author may choose to reveal the logic, the train of thoughts that leads to certain consequences, which are, more likely than not, disastrous ones. But the reader sympathises and laments along with the character because he is the character himself -- the writer's persona and the reader's persona are melded together, if you will. Such is the power of the word 'I': the reader is invited to take a seat, to snug himself in someone else's shoes (sometimes without realising), to enjoy the ride.
In third-person narrative, the main character is referred to as 'he' or 'she'. This creates some distance between the reader and the character. The narrator may be a character himself, which means there are limits to what he can see and hear, which in turn limits the reader's perceptions of the main character. The narrator may also be omniscient, having a bird's-eye view, free to look inside a person's heart or mind. You can see that there are certain advantages and disadvantages over the first-person narrative. Distance may sound problematic but some authors can use this to their advantages. Surely there are some characters who do not need to be sympathised; and you can see that a first-person point of view may disclose too much information to the reader. In certain genres like horror, mystery, detective, third-person point of view may be more suitable to employ, to maintain that aura of tension and secrecy. Of course, by no means this is a rule written on stones. An example of an exception would be having an unreliable first-person narrator. This means that the narrator may divulge wrong information or not tell the whole truth; he is unreliable. Let's say there is murder later in the story; how about if our narrator is actually the murderer, but this is only apparent near the end? Our normal expectations of a protagonist (hero versus antihero) will not be fulfilled. Done correctly, this has quite an impact on the reader.
Distance may also be useful for other purposes. More distance usually translates to more objectivity on the part of the reader. If the reader is inside the character's head, he is more easily swayed by the character's thoughts and feelings and tend to resonate with the latter; as most authors most likely will design such a character: evoking pity, sympathy, resonance -- now he is already biased and tends to side with the character. Third-person omniscient narration is usually devoid of emotions and thoughts, aside from those of the author's persona. It tends to be more objective. For this reason historical accounts are in third-person.
An epic usually tells of heroic feats performed by the character. It is necessary to put some distance in order to put the character on the pedestal to admire, in order to hide certain aspects that may crumble the heroicity. Some writers actually make use of this aspect: that if the reader is put deep down in the recesses of the heart and the mind of the character, the character's fragile humanity is exposed -- again, this creates intimacy, connection, sympathy, between a human and another. For this reason fairytales are narrated in third-person. Fairytales must remain distant since they are not real; the only connection is the omniscient Being who somehow witnessed the story in another dimension and narrates it to us so that we can learn the truths inside, the moral of the story.
Finally, the second-person narrative. There are at least two styles of a second-person narrative, each to achieve different effects.
The first invokes a lot of common stereotypes so that the reader feels familiar, so that, like in the first-person narration, the reader can relate to the character and is comfortable in the character's skin. This is useful when you are writing something that applies to anyone, or you are implying that it does. If you use first-person, the experiences, thoughts and feelings of the character are localised to the character himself. If you use third-person, it feels too distant, and the connection is lost. Second-person would be best to convey this: the narrator thrusts the mould, which does, or can, fit anyone. A good example would be this description of the afterlife:
You walk into the country where the light is slanted and soft. Brown leaves dance on the ground as raindrops fall on them. The northern lights blaze in the sky. You have come so far north that it is always night. You walk on water, feeling the pulse of waves beneath your feet. You walk on bare stones, on ice glowing blue in the starlight. There are others now ahead of you, around you, drawn from other longitudes.
-- Bruce Holland Rogers, I'm Not Saying It Happens Like This,
The Sun Magazine, Feb. 2009, Issue 398
In this case, because no one knows what it feels like in afterlife, this experience can fit anyone. So, again: experiences that are either familiar (fit anyone) or totally unknown (can fit anyone).
The second is the opposite: the character is an atypical person who has a unique way of thinking about and seeing the world. The previous post, of course, belongs to the second. Alphonse is not your average person and his opinions are quite radical. The reader, 'you', is supposed to feel uncomfortable because 'you' doesn't fit into Alphonse's mould. This is unlike the first-person narrative which, in most cases, fits the reader snugly into the character's shoes. But, you also feel for Alphonse's emotional rant, understand that he is a being distinguishable from yourself, having different thoughts and feelings, yet on par with yourself, with the same fragile humanity and whatnot. You can see that the second style here requires delicate balance between the character's idiosyncrasies and familiar stereotypes.
It is important to note that in both second-person narrative styles, it's like you are following a set of instructions from the narrator. It's like a role-playing game. You are to do this and that, which sounds almost like the imperatives. You are constantly reminded that you are 'you', a different entity from the character himself. Contrast this with the first-person narrative where, if the author is good, you may resonate a bit too well with the character and may get a bit carried away and become the character himself (happens to me sometimes). The second-person maintains closeness between the character and you -- since you are to do what the character is doing, see what he is seeing, think what he is thinking, feel what he is feeling -- but at the same time maintains that separateness of entities. One but two, a paradox that adds to literary complexities, as you can imagine it does.
It's also worth noting that second-person narration, which is all about forcing a mould on the reader ending up in identity paradox, is most fitting fir the previous post because Alphonse himself is having an identity crisis, if you notice. Also note that in the last few lines the narrator is slowly taking Alphonse's mould off the reader, addressing the reader directly, "Who are you?" You who have been fitted with Alphonse's mould for the last few paragraphs, who are you?
This is actually the effect I intended to have on the reader: that identity is a curious thing and you better hold it closely while you still can. It invites the reader to rethink about his own identity, just like Alphonse is questioning his own identity.
Now, knowing all this context I have so painstakingly built, re-read the previous post and answer it properly if you haven't:
Who are you?
